A couple of weeks ago I went to a writing/storytelling/yoga workshop. It was amazing, and life changing. So much so I have been struggling with the right words to talk about it. I wanted to write about the experience first, so I could put the resulting piece from the workshop in context. At the end of our workshop I had to get up and read this to the group. Today is Father's Day - so it feels appropriate to post this story. So no context for how this story came up through my work in the workshop, but hopefully you don't need it - and it can stand on its own. It's a little piece, but it means a lot to me, and something I am very proud of, so I hope you like it too.
This story
is about Minnesota’s native prairies, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and little bit about
Prince. You’re going to have to take it on faith that I can get you to all
three places.
Did you know
native prairies in Minnesota are going extinct? It’s true. Over the last 150 years more than 99% of the Midwestern
tallgrass prairies have been lost to
homesteads, agriculture, and highways. If you didn’t know this, that’s ok. My
family didn’t know either, but when I was about five some naturalists came to my
grandmother’s house and were interested in her land because it had native
prairie grasses that had never been farmed. My grandpa had used the land to
graze his cows instead of growing crops.
At
five I didn’t really know what this meant, I just knew that Little House on the
Prairie was the coolest show ever, and clearly I was the embodiment of Laura
Ingalls because my grandma lived on a for real prairie. My parents are awesome.
My dad read me the books, and my mom had sewn a pioneer dress complete with pinafore and bonnet. I would put the dress on, twirl around, and then throw myself down a
hill all Carrie Ingalls style.
I would beg my dad to play Little House on the
Prairie with me. I would make him pretend to be Mrs. Olson, and then I would
grapple him around the ankles and wrestle him to the ground pretending to beat
the crap out of him. He’d put on a mock falsetto and say, “Oh Laura, you wicked
girl, I’m telling your Pa!” and I’d pile drive myself into him and say “And
this one’s for Nellie!" I don’t know why we didn’t go for the obvious, he was Pa
and I was half-pint, but he indulged me. I think since he only had daughters it
was an opportunity for him to rough house while I forced him to play house.
About
15 years ago my parents moved out to my grandmother’s land and built a house.
The landscape was already changing from when I was kid and the prairie was
slowly being overtaken by cedar trees and lake homes with manicured lawns.
About
three years ago my dad decided to take back the prairie. He and my mom were
reading up on different native grasses and flowers. The neat thing we learned
about prairies is how deep the root systems go. They can reach eight feet below
the surface to ensure their drought resistance. If you clear the trees and burn
back the non-native grasses, what will emerge are flowers and grasses that have
been dormant for nearly a hundred years.
Together
they both start ripping out cedar trees and they even do a controlled burn. My
dad starts a make-shift nursery for some of the prairie plants he’s purchased
and wants to propagate. That first spring, after the burn, he takes me on a
tour. Introducing me to all the flowers and plants we had no idea had been
there all along, just below the surface.
We
stand back and survey their handy work and he wistfully says, “Man, I wish I
had started this sooner. Imagine how much more I could have done. I wish I
could see it finished.”
This
utterance floors me for two reasons.
First,
my dad is a total goofball. This is the guy who encouraged me to give Mrs.
Olson The People’s Elbow; we don’t brush up against issues like mortality and regret when
we talk.
Second,
my dad is a Jehovah’s Witness. He did not come to this faith later in life
after I was grown. What I mean is, I was raised this way too, but have since abandoned him in that
shared faith. Now that story, of me leaving his faith,that’s too long a story for today.
So instead, the cliff notes on Jehovah’s Witnesses that you need to know for this story is
that they believe the end of the world is coming. God is going to destroy this
messed up world, and his true followers will be saved from this total
destruction. They won't be raptured to heaven, but instead left on earth to care for it and
restore it to its original Edenic state. Their reward for this toil and faith is
that they will live forever on a paradise Earth. As a guy who wants to restore
a prairie, I totally get why this message resonates with him.
Here is the part where we talk about Prince. Did
you know Prince was a Jehovah’s Witness? (I told you we were going to get to
Prince.) So when Prince died, people were shocked at not only his death, but how
does a guy like Prince not have a will? This was easy for me to understand.
Prince didn’t have a will because he was never supposed to die. I don’t mean in
the way we think celebrities can never die. I mean he literally thought he
would not die, and he was going to live forever on a paradise Earth.
For Jehovah's Witnesses the end of
the world is coming and soon! The end of the world was coming before I would
have to go to kindergarten. The end of the world was coming before my parents
would retire. The end of the world was coming before Prince was going to die.
When
I abandoned my faith I came to grips with the fact that I was going to die. I
made peace with it. Pretty quickly actually. It honestly made more sense to me
than assuming I was going to live forever planting prairies wherever prairies
were needed.
So in this moment, while my father and I are looking out at these fragile yet resilient little flowers, when my father voices his mortality and potential regret it shocks
me. It shocks me in the way nature can shock you. Like when you come upon
something in nature that when you see it you know it is magical and it is fleeting.
And you’re scared to move because it might break the spell. Like coming upon a
fawn nestled in tall grasses, or seeing a stag emerge from the tree line and
locking eyes with him. You don’t know what to do but just bear witness. Being
there in that moment and feeling it.
In
this moment I know that my dad and I are in the same place. We’re together. On
the prairie sure, but we’re also together in the same place philosophically for
just the briefest of moments, and we haven’t been in that place together in a
long time. It won't last, this shared space, but I will always remember it. We’re looking at a re-born prairie but seeing mortality. We’re
thinking about those deep prairie roots, and understanding legacy.
4 comments:
Jo, this is utterly amazing & thank you for finally sharing it outside the workshop.
I love your family so much and this pulls me back to so many of the discussions I've had with my own parents. You made me tear up in the best possible way. Please keep writing.
Thanks Bee. :)
I love you and your writing very much, Jojo. I can read your ramblings endlessly but this was eloquent, thoughtful and incredibly deep. When you show yourself in your writing, it's a truly beautiful thing. You have such wonderful stories and a brilliant sense of humor.
To echo Bee: Please keep writing.
Also, please post this on Twitter so I can retweet the shit out of you.
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