Born of the sun, they travelled a short while towards the sun, and left the vivid air signed with their honor. – Stephen Spender
A couple more deaths have touched me this week. One, a former county commissioner and a guy I rode motorcycles with for many years, died over the weekend when his transplanted heart suddenly quit after giving him ten extra years of life. The other, a former school board member and farmer who just recently stepped down after 12 years on the board, died in a head-on car crash yesterday. I didn’t know him well.
The quote is a line from Spender’s poem “I Think Continually of Those Who Were Truly Great.” I wouldn’t characterize either of these guys as ‘truly great’ in the usual sense. But they both were regular Joes who contributed a significant amount of their free time towards the common good. [In a rural area like this, the pay for a county commissioner or a school board member averages to about 11 cents an hour.] Both grew up, made a living, and raised their families in the area. And now they’re planted here, too.
It’s sad that they died before reaching old age and it’s sad that their loved ones have to go on without them sooner than normal. But if what I know about them being good men is actually true, then in some ways, it’s not so sad. They left a legacy that’s honorable, a modest but real contribution to the community that’s going to live on after them.
After living in this town for 26+ years, and raising my kids here, I’ve said that I want to die here. But more than that, I want to live my life in a way that it can be said of me, “The vivid air of Rice County has been signed with his honor.”
My moist eyes as I write this tell me that these untimely deaths offer more than a little inspiration for that. Thanks, Stan. Goodbye, George.