Saturday, May 16, 2009

100 Years


Today marks the 100th anniversary of my father’s birth. Born of serf parents in a central Russian wheat field, his words still reverberate. He remains alive in my mind and memory even after his funeral nineteen years ago. We live, he said, as long as others care to think and remember us. Memories eventually fade but the resultants of our deeds last forever.

1 comment:

Teri said...

I can hardly believe it has been 19 years. And many more than that since I actually saw him. The things I remember most clearly about him is aromatic pipe tobacco, his cheerful, upbeat disposition, and the way he gave his full attention to you when speaking to him. I remember a front porch with stone pillars and a porch swing. A dollhouse sized kitchen with an old fashioned stove, and a tiny Christmas tree that sat on a tabletop. Wish I had more stored away in the memory banks.