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The CyberSenior Review Volume 3 Number 3
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* THE
* CYBERSENIOR
* REVIEW
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VOLUME 3 NUMBER 3 JULY 1996
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The CyberSenior Review is a project of the Internet
Elders List, an active world-wide Internet Mailing
List for seniors. The Review is written, edited and
published by members of the Elders for interested
netizens worldwide. Contributions from non-Elders
are welcome. Please query one of the editors first.
Contents copyrighted 1996 by the Internet Elders
List and by the authors. All rights reserved by the
authors. Quoting is permitted with attribution.
The editorial board of The CyberSenior Review:
Elaine Dabbs edabbs@ucc.su.oz.au
Pat Davidson patd@chatback.demon.co.uk
James Hursey jwhursey@cd.columbus.oh.us
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CONTENTS, Volume 3, Number 3, July 1996
EDITORIAL by Pat Davidson
THE VALLEY OF THE CROW by Jim Olson
Indians, rebellions and carefree summers. Jim reminisces
about the Minnesota valley where he spent his childhood.
ETHIOPIA by Quentin F. Schenk
Quentin, who lived there for some years, gives us an
interesting and enlightening analysis of the recent
history of this troubled African nation.
HISTORY THROUGH MAORI PLACE NAMES by Horace Basham
Omanawanui, Kaingamaturi, Puke-aruha Pa. Horace tells us
the romantic stories of Maori place names.
GRAND CHILD a poem by James Hursey
Jim ponders the different emotional experience of a
grandchild and the birth of one's own children.
==============================================================
EDITORIAL
by Pat Davidson
It is summer here in the UK, with flowers everywhere, striped
green lawns and Pimms on the terrace! As I write, Wimbledon
tennis fortnight is taking place, and we still have a Brit
playing in the fourth round of the Men's Singles. Mind you, by
the time you receive this, he could have been knocked out! At
least we'll have had one moment of glory.
The longest day has passed, and we're now beginning the long slow
march towards winter, while our southern cousins look forward to
their summer.
In this issue, we look at the lands and people of the past; the
Sioux and Ojibwe of the Valley of the Crow, the Amhara, Gallena
and Nilotic of Ethiopia, and the Maori of New Zealand. It is
right that we should look back, and realise that though these
peoples lived far different lives from those we lead today, they
too were human beings with their hardships and problems, yet
survived them, not as individuals, but as a race. They found
their strength in their lands. When, however, they had their
lands taken from them by superior forces, sometimes by people of
their own race, they were left weak and destitute.
We too need our "land", the place of our childhood, even though
it might not be in a country house but in a town apartment; we
need the "roots" from which we can grow in experience and wisdom,
to become the mature adults that we are.
Nowadays, we have a better appreciation of the territorial rights
of the indigenous peoples of the Americas and Australasia. As
Quentin shows us in his article on Ethiopia, however, it is not
enough to provide aid for those who are weak and destitute. We
need to encourage them to use their lands and resources wisely,
and to ensure the population does not grow, by limiting the
number of births.
How can we do this? Better heads than mine have not yet found a
solution to the problem. We ALL look to the future of the family
through our children and grandchildren. Jim Hursey in his poem
"Grand Child," epitomises our delight in them.
I look back to my own "land" for understanding, to Scotland. In
Victorian times, there were large families, with no birth
control; many infants, and indeed their mothers, died in
childbirth. Today, most families are small, with one or two
children, infant and maternal mortality almost non-existent.
Perhaps education for the women and a better standard of living
is the way forward in Ethiopia. All we can do is wait and hope;
as Quentin says, the alternative is too horrible to contemplate.
===============================================================
THE VALLEY OF THE CROW
by Jim Olson
There is, I believe, a connection between the essence of our
lives and the places we have lived, a kind of bond with a
location and its history. Most of us have roamed about somewhat
during our lifetime, but there is for each of us some key
territory, perhaps a land of our beginnings, a place where we
achieved or lost some part of ourselves. It returns to memory
most strongly as we survey the past in an effort not just to
remember but to seek answers to questions about our identity,
questions about our source, what drives us, our destiny.
For me that land is the Crow River Valley in west central
Minnesota where I was born and spent my childhood and early
adolescence and where I felt connected not just to my immigrant
ancestors who lived in and around the town but to the races of
people and the elements of nature that had touched the land
before me and left their traces for me to ponder.
The Mdewakanton Dakota (Sioux) people, who lived there briefly
and contested the land with the Ojibwe driven south and east by
still other tribes, called it the Valley of the Crow. But I
recall most vividly the Red Tail Hawks that soared over the
area, the fall flocks of migrating Blackbirds stretching
almost from horizon to horizon, the skitting salamanders that
raced along and through the puddles near the prairie pot holes,
and the slithering inhabitants of a cemetery just north of us
that we christened "Snake Heaven."
As a boy my main connection with the earlier tribal occupants
of the valley was through retracing their steps on the Indian
trail along the river bluff, one of the few elevated spots in
this generally flat and fertile valley. A short stretch of the
trail had escaped temporarily the development of homes along the
the pond formed by an early dam and feed mill. It passed a
very small cave in the bluff that had traces of having been
used as a shelter, but in our imaginations was as large and
mysterious as the cave where Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher
played out their adventure with mystery, fear, and discovery.
The trail ended upstream by a burial mound left by an early race
of mound builders in the area. The cave and the mound have long
since been destroyed by a housing development and the only
physical acknowledgment of the earlier inhabitants of the valley
is a bronze statue in a town park by the dam, and I think there
is some talk now of removing it.
It is a statue of Chief Little Crow, who was ironically the
leader of the so-called Sioux Uprising that threatened the town
in 1863 and resulted in the massacre of many nearby immigrant
farmers and non-combatant Indians. The statue was part of a WPA
artists project in 1936, the product of the adolescent
imagination of a young artist I knew who was several years my
senior and with whom I shared an art teacher, but not an
artistic talent. He won a contest to design a statue appropriate
to the river site of the new park.
A restored water wheel at the site of a glorious mill fire that
lit up the sky all of the way up to our farm represented the
pioneer days and his statue the tribal peoples of the area. The
town treasured its youth and extolled those who appeared
precocious. To the town we were all like the mythic youth of
Garrison Keilor's nearby Lake Woebegone, all "above average."
But not necessarily to our parents. The artist's father once
told my uncle, "That damn kid aint going to amount to anything.
He's late getting up to catch the bus and comes home from school
too late to do the chores. All he does is day dream and
scribble."
Later he was quite proud of his son. I don't know what my uncle
said. I daydreamed, too, but did make it back for chores
although my uncle milked four cows in the time it took me to do
one. I can remember the sounds, the slow erratic sounds of milk
jets hitting my tin pail vs. the steady quick rhythm of the
streams of milk filling his. Mine would stop sometimes and I
would talk to the cat, "Here kitty, you want some. Open your
mouth." A white moustache appeared on the cat's face and a
long tongue came out to lick it off.
The artist later went on to become a prominent wildlife painter
in Minnesota and abandoned sculpture. One can perhaps sense
why by noting the lack of proportion and awkward pose of Little
Crow as he peers up the valley in a wooden, cigar-store-Indian
stance. At the time I shared the artist's enthusiasms and
heroic concept of Little Crow and greatly admired the statue. He
did do one more statue as he replaced Little Crow with a new
much improved version many years later and donated it to the
city.
I hardly ever passed it as I walked from town to our small farm
just north of town without stopping to refresh myself at the
nearby drinking fountain and peer up the river as he did,
wishing, as the plaque read, for "Peace for all peoples of the
Valley of the Crow," a quote from one of his many speeches made
as he negotiated treaties with the Great White Father whom he
also told, "I come to speak like a man and not a child."
The message of peace was a relevant message in 1937. My father
had not many years before fought in the Great War, and many of
the town's young men were, by 1940, when we moved from the town,
volunteering for service in preparation for an impending war
that was eventually to involve me.
Little Crow's war started when a band of young, undisciplined
braves, incensed by failure of the government to honor a treaty
and assist the tribe through a difficult winter, attacked a
nearby farm family and killed most of them. Little Crow spoke
for peace and reconciliation in a speech that lasted most of the
night, and failing in that, became one of the principal and most
persistent leaders of the war.
The war was ineptly fought on both sides and dragged on to the
inevitable end with the defeat of the insurgents. The Sioux
were removed from the state, those who fought on the side of the
militia as well as those who fought against; and a mass hanging
of war prisoners, again some friends along with the foes, at New
Ulm, Minnesota, brought an end to the episode.
Little Crow who had fled into Canada returned in a vain attempt
to get support and renew the war. He was shot in the back by a
local farmer who discovered Little Crow and his son picking
berries just north of town. It was early in July and the body
was taken to town and paraded down the main street on the 4th,
decapitated, and the torso sent to the state historical society
where I viewed the bones in 1938 in a dark basement exhibit
while on a field trip for honor students. Being an honor
student was a distinction I seldom held, my penchant for
questioning authority often stronger than my ambition for
academic honor. But on this occasion I had achieved it partly
with an essay about Little Crow's diplomatic skills and desire
for peace.
If the statue by the river had been turned left slightly it
would have faced up the Main street toward the town square where
a plaque on a large boulder marked the spot of one of Little
Crow's main frustrations as a warrior. It was here that the
settlers, along with some tribal members who had sided with them,
built a stockade and thwarted a brief attack from a band led by
Little Crow early in the war. I recall the tea in the library on
the square where the honor students were recognized. I also
recall the time when I met a girl there, the Becky of my
imagination, and our walking hand in hand by the stockade site,
past the ghosts of settlers and Indians who fought and died
there.
But mostly I remember one last day of school in the spring when
Little Crow looked out at a group of us boys who celebrated our
freedom with a quick swim to the diving raft on the mill pond.
We slipped off our shorts, mounted the raft and ran naked across
to the other side, waved at the statue and dove into the cold
water, swam back to retrieve our wet underwear, swam ashore, put
on our school trousers and shirts, and walked dripping,
shivering, homeward.
It seemed to me at the time that his upraised arm was not to
shade his eyes as he searched for peace in the Valley of the
Crow as my essay had indicated, but a return of my salute, a
gesture from one independent spirit to another. My gesture of
independence resulted in a nasty head cold that I soon recovered
from, that hot, barefoot summer of 1938.
=============================================================
ETHIOPIA
by Quentin F. Schenk
In all my travels throughout the South Pacific, Europe,
South America, and Africa, Ethiopia is the most fascinating
place I have ever seen. It is about the size of California,
has a population of about 50,000,000, lies just above the
equator, has altitudes from below sea level to over 10,000
feet, with a climate ranging from an average of 70F to over
100 degrees. Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia, where I
lived for three years, has a population of over 1 million.
Our home was at an altitude of 8700 feet. My office at the
National University was at 9200 feet. The altitude posed a
problem for many foreign visitors and workers who previously
lived at lower altitudes. Over half who came to Addis Ababa
to live had to leave because of their inability to adapt to
the altitude.
Ethiopia is composed of three major ethnic groups: the
Amhara, the Gallena, and the Nilotic. There are 22 major
language groups in the nation. Over the years this has
posed a major obstacle toward melding Ethiopia into a single
society and political entity. Over his protracted reign,
Haile Selassie made progress in the direction of true
unification, mainly through education, but he was only
modestly successful.
The Amhara are the highland people, and have been the
historic rulers of Ethiopia, but always tenuously. The
recent war with Eritrea is rooted in the long-standing
cultural and ethnic differences among Ethiopia's ethnic
groupings. The Amhara wanted to unite all of Ethiopia under
its rule and impose its culture and political system on
others. Its greatest failure in this regard is the recent
secession of Eritrea after a bitter civil war that lasted
from the middle l960's to 1990.
The Amhara speak a Semitic language and do not consider
themselves Africans, but identify themselves with Egyptians,
Israelis, and Arabs. They are Coptic Christians, having
been converted to Christianity by Egyptian missionaries
about 400 A.D. Their patron Saint is St. Mark, who brought
Christianity to Egypt even before St. Paul's missionary
efforts that are chronicled in the New Testament. They are
fierce warriors, and this coupled with their highland
inaccessibility enabled them to escape European colonization
that was the tragic fate of most of the rest of Africa.
The Gallena occupy the southeastern quarter of Ethiopia, and
are similar in culture and language to the rest of East
Africa. They are primarily Muslim. Haile Selassie was most
successful in integrating the Gallena into the Ethiopian
nation mainly by coopting the Gallena elite into prominent
positions into his political and economic system.
The Nilotic live in the remote interior of southwestern
Ethiopia and are the most "primitive" of the Ethiopian
groupings. They have no written language. They are pagans,
and have little concept of what we define as modern
civilization. Haile Selassie shrewdly used European and
American missionaries to "Ethiopianize" the Nilotic. He
permitted missionaries in Ethiopia, but only with the
understanding that they would not work with the Amhara or
Gallena, but confine their efforts to converting the
Nilotic. He monitored their efforts carefully to see that
they did not teach the "pagans" anything antithetical to his
goal to create a unified Ethiopian nation. He was so shrewd
in this tactic that I do not think many missionary groups
realized how he co-opted them to his own nationalistic ends.
Ethiopia is divided into provinces, each with a governor.
Up until the time of Emperor Menelik's reign (Haile
Selassie's predecessor) the governors were princes of quasi
independent duchies. There were numerous wars over the
years to establish dominance, and gradually the prince of
Shoa province, in which Addis Ababa is located, became the
lead prince and eventually was able to declare himself
emperor. Emperor Menelik, one of the great rulers of
Ethiopia, consolidated the various duchies into the
provinces that today comprise Ethiopia.
There was no hereditary nor constitutional means of
succession, so when an emperor died the nation was plunged
into chaos and often war until a successor could by fair
means or foul be chosen. After Emperor Menelik died, it
took Haile Selassie almost twenty years to win the
succession. He immediately set out to appoint his own
governors to bring the provinces under his control, and was
quite successful at this effort.
It was during Emperor Menelik's reign that European nations
completed the colonization of Africa. Not to be left
behind, Italy set out to grab her own piece of Africa, and
chose Ethiopia. Italy acquired a foothold in Eritrea in
extreme northern Ethiopia, and planned to conquer the rest
of Ethiopia from there. However, in 1898, at the battle of
Adowa, Italy was soundly defeated by the Ethiopian warriors,
who were outnumbered and outgunned, but well organized by
Emperor Menelik and fiercely determined not to go the way of
the rest of Africa. This single victory assured Ethiopia's
reputation as the "jewel" of Africa, and made Italy the
laughingstock of the European powers. Years later Mussolini
attempted to avenge this humiliation by occupying Ethiopia,
but succeeded mainly in raising the stature of Emperor Haile
Selassie. His speech at the League of Nations made him
world famous as a courageous, lonely figure standing against
the immoral exploitation of his country by a greedy European
power. Haile Selassie spent his exile in England. He used
his persuasive powers to convince Britain that Ethiopia must
be liberated at all costs, so in 1939, very early in World
War II, Britain invaded Ethiopia and drove the Italians out.
After World War II Haile Selassie decided that the only
future for his nation was to open it up to the outside
world. He gave amnesty and full citizenship to the Italians
who had settled in Ethiopia during the brief occupation, for
they were skilled artisans that the nation needed to
"modernize". He invited foreign investment to develop
coffee production, mining, and manufacture. He encouraged
foreign aid, primarily in health care and education. A
number of nations responded, notably Sweden, Yugoslavia, and
the United States. Sweden concentrated on primary and
secondary education, Yugoslavia governmental planning and
development, the United states on higher education and health
services. As the cold war intensified, the United States, in
conjunction with Israel, furnished resources and manpower to
develop the military and internal security forces of the
nation. Ethiopia gradually found itself becoming a client
state of the United States, which the United States felt was
necessary since at the time Somalia and Egypt were client
states of the Soviet Union.
The development of a modern nation state was a formidable
task. One of the requisites is a shared scientific
language. At first the Ethiopians attempted to modernize
Amharic, which Haile Selassie declared to be the official
language of Ethiopia, but this proved impossible. So they
chose English as the modern language. Therefore, when
students entered school they were first taught Amharic upon
the Emperor's insistence so they could learn the official
culture. Then about the sixth year they switched to English
so they could participate in the modern world. English was
used exclusively at the National University, and students
had to be proficient in English to matriculate. Given the
difficulties encountered, language teaching was surprisingly
successful, much to the credit of the Swedes.
Tito of Yugoslavia and Haile Selassie became fast friends
during World War II for they were the "little guys" fighting
the Axis powers against terrible odds. After the War Tito
developed a modified communism which included central
planning spanning five year periods. Haile Selassie
embraced this approach, and had his government expend much
effort to develop these plans. They looked wonderful on
paper, but the task was enormous and the resources scarce.
The lack of infrastructure precluded the realization of much
what was projected, even though infrastructure development
was the primary goal of the planning effort.
The United States poured major resources into the National
University through AID and the Ford Foundation. During the
post war years of the Emperor's reign the Ford Foundation
was an important arm of American foreign policy in Ethiopia,
both in terms of resources furnished and determination of
results. One of the major efforts was to develop a university
modeled completely on the American pattern, so the National
University became the only university in Africa to develop
along these lines. All other institutions of higher
learning in Africa patterned themselves along either the
British or the French model. Since Ethiopia was an
American client state it was important that the educated
elite accept American ways, and no more effective way
existed than to make it easy for Ethiopian students to
make a smooth transition from undergraduate education
in Ethiopia to graduate education in the United States.
The United States poured substantial resources into military
development to counteract the potential threat of Egypt and
Somalia, then client states of the Soviet Union. Israel, at
the behest of the United States, strengthened the internal
security forces of Ethiopia. Seeing this, the Soviet Union
armed Eritrea which was particularly restive under the
Emperor's control and wanted to become independent. In the
late l960's hostilities broke out between Ethiopia and
Eritrea, with Eritrea being supplied with arms by the Soviet
Union and Ethiopia by the United States.
The United States also led the effort to introduce western
medical practices into Ethiopia, building clinics and
hospitals, educating medical personnel, and encouraging
religious groups to send their medical personnel. As in the
rest of Africa much of the effort was concentrated in
lowering the infant mortality rate. Because of the
extremely high rate of infant mortality the birth rate was
at the physical maximum, approximately twenty children per
adult female. Since the mortality rate was roughly equal to
the birth rate the population was close to equilibrium, with
a slight growth over the years. The upset of this balance
without careful consideration of the consequences could be
calamitous. I will deal briefly with the unintended
consequences of this and other changes later in the article.
Because of the inherent difficulties of succession in
Ethiopia, Haile Selassie could not guarantee a successor.
He tried several strategies. He tried to retire, but did
not like what he saw happening so did not retire. One of
his sons tried a coup which failed. So the aging Emperor
kept on until an American trained colonel, Haile Mariam,
overthrew him in a bloody coup. At this time the political
scene shifted, with Egypt and Somalia pulling away from
Soviet control. Haile Mariam saw himself as a dictator in
the Russian mold, so the influence of the United States
waned. Ethiopia became a client state of the Soviet Union,
and Egypt and Somalia came under the influence of the United
States.
Haile Mariam was an Amhara, so could not tolerate an upstart
province such as Eritrea trying to break away. He
intensified his effort to defeat Eritrea, which eventually
resulted in Haile Mariam's defeat and overthrow and
independence for Eritrea. Ethiopia presently is
experimenting with a decentralized, somewhat democratic
political system, the outcome of which is too early to
discern.
I am pessimistic of Africa's ability to prosper in the long
run simply because it is difficult if not impossible to
predict and control the consequences of change. I will give
one telling example - the unintended consequences of the
introduction of western medicine.
All change comes encased in the cultural and social
characteristics of the change agent. The effort of the
United States and European countries to lessen infant
mortality without lowering the birth rate resulted in a
population explosion in Ethiopia which preceded the famines
that have beleaguered the nation. This is also the case
with the rest of Africa - an uncontrollable population
explosion. It is not that life expectancy is greatly
extended but that more infants live to suffer malnutrition
and disease, and increase the ratio of young to older
members of the population.
Unless the world finds some way to control explosive
population growth, the unrest which I witnessed among the
young in Ethiopia and which is evident in the rest of Africa
as well as other parts of the globe spells trouble for the
twenty first century. Continued population growth may
eventually result in the disappearance of the human species
altogether from the planet.
==========================================================
HISTORY THROUGH MAORI PLACE NAMES
by Horace Basham
Since living in the Waitakere City district of the Auckland
region, I have followed my interest in local history. There
is much to learn from the plethora of Maori place names that
abound in this region.
Take for instance Opanuku. Opanuku is the name of the road
on which I live. The Opanuku stream flows down the valley at
the bottom of this road. The story of Opanuku takes us back
to pre-European times and tells of an incident of local
importance. Opanuku means "the place of Panuku."
Panuku was a chief of a tribe living in the Waitakere range
at Te Henga (Bethell's Beach). Legend has it that Nihotupu,
a Turehu (or those seen by the Maori as the first
inhabitants of New Zealand) invaded Panuku's plantation at
Te Henga stealing gourds and Panuku's wife, Parakura.
Parakura not being a willing party to this enterprise pulled
white feathers from her cloak leaving a trail that Panuku
would follow. When Panuku came upon the encampment of
Nihotupu an unholy battle took place resulting in the deaths
of Nihotupu and his followers. It was at that site of battle
that the nearby stream was named for Panuku, and another
stream and the hill nearby was named after Panuku's wife,
Parekura.
This area has been inhabited by the Maoris for more than a
1000 years, as shown in the many archaelogical sites found
throughout the Waitakeres, in Pa and food storage pits. One
such site near my place of residence is called Puke-aruha Pa
(or the hill of the braken fern root) and is to be found on
a high ridge overlooking the valley. The remains of the Pa
and the food storage pits are evident today. Much of the
site was demolished by bulldozing in 1975.
Braken roots were a staple of the Maori diet in lean times.
The tribes did not live permanently at one site, moving
around to where food was to be found. Areas were burnt off
and left so the braken would grow. Then they would return
later to dig up the roots.
The Opanuku Valley is now called Henderson Valley, after a
prominent sawmiller merchant of that district who arrived
from Dundee Scotland in 1845. The stream is still the
Opanuku, until it reaches Henderson township and runs into
the Henderson Creek.
The most famous ancestor of the whole of West Auckland was
the Turehu chief Tiniwa, who gave the ranges and the West
their name. After the Turehu came Panuku's people, the
Maruiwi, who arrived in the Kahuitara canoe in Taranaki. The
legendary explorer Kupe also left many important place names
on the west coast between the Manukua and Hokianga.
Maori Tradition has it the earliest inhabitants of the
Waitakere Ranges were the fairy folk -- the Turehu, who
dwelt in the forested hills and only ventured out at night
or in the fog or mist to fish and search for food. It is in
these tales that many of the place names of the Waitakeres
are mentioned and explained.
The following story gave Kaingamaturi, or Maramaturu as it
is called today, its name:
A local youth became enamoured of a chieftainess of a
Waikato tribe who used to come to Huia for the fishing
season. To while away the evening hours they used to play
games of skill. These games, which began in a competitive
spirit, soon developed into mutual feelings of love. But the
time came when the tribe returned to the Waikato.
Next season, when the tribe returned, the feelings of love
were as strong as ever. But in the meantime the chieftainess
had been betrothed to an older but influential warrior
chief. At first sight, the two hearts beat with joy, and
realising that their love had survived the intervening
absence, they sought a way to ensure they would not be
parted again.
Behind a high waterfall up the valley was a deep cave. The
youth, knowing of this, stocked the cave with supplies and
bedding where they would hide until the hue and cry would
end. After a long interval the pair, knowing the Waikato
tribe would have left, emerged from the cave. They found,
because of the thundering noise of the waterfall, they had
become deaf and had difficulty conversing with other people.
From this incident the stream was named Kaingamaturi, the
home of the deaf lovers. But it is now named Karamatura -- I
know not why.
Omanawanui Peak was named by this incident: Several
centuries ago two lovers were forbidden by their parents to
continue their love affair. They decided that, rather than
be parted, they would die together by jumping from a high
cliff on the seaward side of the peak of this name near
Whatipu. The man was killed outright, but the maiden was
critically injured and lay for two days before she was
discovered. Her injuries proved fatal, however, and in
memory of this tragedy, the peak was named Omanawanui,
the place of long suffering.
There are many romantic place names in Maori country and all
of them tell a story. This has been just a few of them.
===========================================================
GRAND CHILD
by James Hursey
How I remember my own children's birth.
So giddy, truly, was I on that day
That, indeed, my feet hardly touched the earth,
And I felt that I would simply float away.
In those days fathers waited down the hall,
So I wasn't in the room when they were born,
But I cannot forget when I first saw
Them squalling in the nursery that morn.
Twins, of course, one so wrinkled, ugly red
That I thought surely something wasn't right;
But they were fine, both screaming in their bed,
Indignant being brought into the light.
After visiting their mom I danced away,
Accosting perfect strangers on the street:
"Twins," I said, "O two perfect girls. Hooray!"
The ground, I'm sure, never touched my feet.
Truly, it was an intoxicating
Time, the birth of one's first, in my case two,
And now, after thirty years of waiting,
The elder twin has dropped the other shoe.
I'd just about lost hope until that day
(I tried to tell myself I did not care);
It was a new experience, in a way,
Seeing my little namesake lying there.
It's different, somehow, when a grandchild's born:
This time it's a quieter elation.
While our own are conceived in joy, then formed,
A grandchild is true procreation.
Some grand eternal cycle's consummate
And we, as grandpas, know that we've fulfilled
Our urgent task as species' advocate,
Upon which the generations build.
Ordinarily, it's said, they're much more fun,
Since you can hand them back to be attended;
I think the pleasure is a deeper one:
It's not a child, but, now, a descendant.
Pleasure without responsibility,
We sometimes say, even as we anoint
The child into our loving life, but surely
Responsibility is not the point;
Nor is the joy that the little one
Gives us growing up; the real pleasure
Is knowing, as we age, he'll carry on:
Therein, I think, lies grandpa's greatest treasure.
Nature provides us with the impetus
To reproduce, but life's not true complete
Until our own child has provided us
A happy grandchild playing at our feet.
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end cybersenior.3.3
