PRAIRIE DUST, Chapter 10
Ashes to Ashes, Starstuff to Stardust
”We are Stardust, We are golden…”
I’m taking a step back in this chapter- my detour into music and how it’s been central in my life is certainly important to me (and the detour is far from done).
But life has gone on- the music came from places within and without me, and I want to explore some of that.
In these memoirs, I’ve taken pains to show that I am “Prairie Dust”- a child of the prairie of south-central Kansas, a person born to Christ-believers into a family of thoughtful siblings (and parents), a member of a singing and instrument-playing group known as Conrads (who themselves have come from somewhere)- and set within a rather small and insignificant prairie town: Hesston.
Yet, Mortal
Observable universe…so, how many more outside the observable universe?
The Anglican Book of Common Prayer suggests this for use at a funeral service: “In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother Stephen Conrad; and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless him and keep him, the Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious unto him and give him peace. Amen.” (Emphasis mine).
Among the far-flung, nearly infinite, astonishingly- and expanding- enormity of space, we are almost literally specks of dust as human beings, Although this author suggests the Carl Sagan term "Starstuff" is more accurate: "Maybe “stuff” has less magical connotations but the grit of it has more power. Stars burned to make us, became giants, and went supernova. The densest stars in the universe merged to make bits of us, and the molecules that make us formed in burning atmospheres and freezing interstellar clouds. We are star-stuff, a patchwork of elements and molecules formed in a huge variety of cosmic environments. But we are more than just dust or stuff, we are the sum of universal processes that came together in what we call a human being.”
And still, mortal, as Shakespeare writes in MacBeth: “Out, out, brief candle! /Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player/ That struts and frets his hour upon the stage/ And then is heard no more. It is a tale/ Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury/ Signifying nothing.”
Kenny
My first, strongest, and most lasting impression of my mortality was Kenny’s death, soon after he received his driver’s license learning permit, which was issued age 14.
My friend Kelvin and I were at the sale barn snack shop having a coke when we heard the news.
Kenny had been driving on a sand and gravel country road, lost control, and wrecked the car.
He was the eldest child of our beloved pastor at Hesston Mennonite Church, a year older than I was.
This hit close to home- the Wiebes were friends and neighbors and fellow students- and just like that, Kenny was gone.
“I Don’t Know Who I Am…
…But you know life is for learning” (Joni Mitchell, “Woodstock”).
So here’s one dusty memory, me kneeling age 13, alongside friend Rex (now dead), friend Wendell down the line (still living), friend Jerome in the back row (now dead).
My greatest talent in basketball turned out to be keeping the pine shined, or warming the bench, if you prefer, called into action with 1 minute left in the game, 25 points ahead or behind, moving with the grace and speed of Donald Duck with lead weights on his webbed feet.
“…(F)ull of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
But I longed to ‘belong’, to matter in the scheme of things in school, in Hesston, in that dusty prairie town.
I Keep Trying
I was a real trendsetter in Cross Country- keeping last or next to last place firmly nailed down, secure from all or most comers.
It was a major accomplishment in my first formal competition to overtake the other guy who was panting and doggedly doing his best, and right at the end, getting a nose-whisker ahead of him!
Next to last!
I did have one decent race- for me- on a cloudy day with light rain. I was actually in the middle of the pack, and did my personal best on time.
I’ve always liked cool, rainy days.
We were the Mighty Swathers!!
It was the Swather that caused our little town to grow and to explode in size and influence.
A local Mennonite farmer and a Holdeman Mennonite welder fabricated an unloading augur onto an early 1950’s combine and more and more farmers wanted one- the grain unloaded more quickly.
Thus, our school mascot.
And thus, we ‘mowed down’ our rivals- but in a nice, peaceful way (since Mennonites were known as pacifists in that era).
Sports teams were Swathers, the band was Swathers, all of us were Swathers cruising the halls of Hesston High School.
“We are stardust, we are golden”, even Swathers.
So I’ll close this chapter. As always, I’m Mose Lee Gropin’, AKA Steve Conrad.