Caring is a political act

Dear Readers,

I hope that you are being cared for and that you have somebody to care for you. Here, my family has been taking care of each other and we've been reaching out to our neighbors by phone and, occasionally, in person. Thankfully, everyone is well and seems to be coping as well as can be.

Central Minnesota Political is intended to be a political commentary. Caring is a political act. So is not caring. That fact is clearly demonstrated by the President. He simply doesn't care. Whereas, most of us care enough to vote, advocate for change, protect the natural environment, and treat others with respect and compassion.

What is going in this country regarding coronavirus is largely a matter of politics. The political, and social, structures that brought us to this moment regarding this virus are pretty much the same as those that created the climate crisis. When the crisis from the virus is over those structures will likely be largely intact. Unless we act to change them.

So, while we care for each other and ourselves we must do so while thinking about, and acting for, a new politics. It must be a politics of caring.

Here, at Maple Hill, we've been caring for the land, each other, and ourselves for the last thirty-six years. Yesterday was our weekly fire wood making holiday. Firewood Fridays, you might call them. Colin and I work in the woods and then we all have popcorn and a beer. Yesterday I couldn't keep up with Colin so I reverted to collecting kindling. He did that as a little boy. Not surprisingly, our roles are reversing.

That reminded me of this essay that I had in Senior Perspective several months ago:
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At this time of year I light a fire in the stove every day.

To light those fires, and others, I’ve made firewood most every year of my life, excluding infancy and a few years while residing in a downtown Minneapolis condominium. It’s always been dangerous and hard work and today, as I was working to fill the pick-up box with blocks and logs to take to the firewood lot, I wondered about the wisdom of a seventy-year old continuing this kind of work.

The great Japanese mountain climber Tamae Watanabe seemed to be suggesting that making firewood builds character when she wrote these words:

“We as children went up the mountain to find feed for livestock, like goats, cows and horses, and because in the winter time we would light the fire in the house, we would climb the mountain to collect firewood as well. Because of that, I suppose I became used to climbing mountains.”

I wonder if my dad had in mind teaching us boys how to climb our life’s mountains when he took us out into the woods to cut, split, and stack firewood. I do remember those outings for how they taught me how team work can accomplish a lot in a short time - even if more is demanded of you than you think you’re capable of.

But, do I need more mountain climbing at age seventy?

Over the years I spent quite a bit of time in the woods with my dad and brother making firewood, fence posts, and saw logs. I imagine that hard work was character building for all of us; even my dad. It was companionable too. To this day my brother and I have common memories of that work with our dad.

But I’ve spent a lot of time working alone in the woods. Felling a tree with a chain saw, or even bucking it into logs or firewood, is dangerous work. I’ve seen seriously injured men carried out of the woods by their co-workers. But there is a deep pleasure in listening to your own breathing and your own heart beating while you move a heavy log or load a truck with blocks. There is no need for conversation.  There is your beating heart and the work and that is good enough. Besides that, there is the deep silence outside of yourself where, in the punctuation between one task and another, you stop and hear the raven, see the squirrel, or hear the neighbor harvesting a crop in the distance. Why, just yesterday, after loading the truck, I stopped. And listened. Trumpeter Swans were flying over head. They were above the gray clouds. They sounded like whooping dogs.

But, at my age, should I be working alone in the woods?

Like my dad, I taught my son how to make firewood and how to make a fire. Now he is teaching his son those things and the child is a good student. I enjoy my grandson’s companionship and am honored to be the assistant instructor. 

We start first with lessons in gathering kindling. It seems like child's work but a fire is only possible with good dry kindling, well placed on top of crumpled newspaper. My grandson is learning that and his dad is teaching him how to carefully stack the split firewood so it will dry. We three enjoy each others company as we do these things together, just like I enjoyed my dad’s company all these years ago.

Soon, a time will come when my grandson, like his dad before him, will want to learn how to use the saw. His dad will teach him that but I’d like to be in the woods with them when that happens. Perhaps I’ll have something to add. And meanwhile we’ll work together to make the fire wood. My grandson, as he grows, may pick up some slack for me. That’s ok. I’ll just keep doing what I can and enjoying the companionship.

And I think I’ll need to keep climbing mountains. Their contours will just be different than they used to be.

Tim
Central Minnesota Political