More thoughts on my dad - Father's Day 2010

My Fathers’ Son

I am in truth my fathers’ son
Born of a long and storied line
Not one of whom was grand or famed
But all became the man I am

In life they strived to build their weal
To help their own, to ward their homes
In life they strived for Kin and kith
That Worth might come and make their name

We find that we have many roles
Which come to us within our years
Child, sibling, partner, parent
Friend or foe, teacher or taught

Upon my hand there is a ring
White gold it is, plain thin and old
It sat upon my father’s hand
A sign of Troth when he was wed

He was a man who seldom spoke
But words he gave were rich and wise
He was a man who seemed withdrawn
But gave of self when need was there

His work was hard, his days were long
But seldom did he stay away
From home and hearth, from wife and kids
He knew his place was in our lives

And as years passed, the world did change
But not his care for family
Nor for his friends, or for his deeds
As he worked in community

He lived to see his children wed
Some well, some not, but all survived
And from this he saw grandchildren
To carry on the long Kin-line

And at the end of all his years
When illness laid him weak and low
He took the hit, but carried on
And sang his last few days away

And as we stood on sacred grounds
Where kin-bones slept beneath the sod
And as we laid him in his grave
My thoughts flew high, and far and wide

I looked to hills he loved to roam
Beneath the trees beside the stream
A place he shared with many boys
My sib and I foremost of these

So long old scout, your time has come
To walk those trails, unseen, unknown
Beyond the bounds of daily life
A new frontier to seek and see

I am in truth my fathers’ son
Born of a long and storied line
Not one of whom was grand or famed
But all became the man I am

In life they strived to build their weal
To help their own, to ward their home
In life they strived for Kin and kith
That Worth might come and make their name

(January 2011 -  Dad's Wedding Ring...which was mentioned in this poem...I lost it when I was blown off the road during bad storm conditions on my way to work.

I was trying to dig out the tail pipe, so I wouldn't smother myself by running the engine from time to time to keep warm. My glove came off, as did the ring...)

Life lesson from dad, and then, to Asatru? (Original 11 June 2010)

Hail all;

I have been corresponding with a fellow with whom I have had good words for several years.

He lost his dad within the past few days and I have been trying to guide him through this leg of life's journey.

One thing I wrote, I think is appropriate to the discussions we've been having about our worldview...

"We fill the hole by fighting onward, by building and by leaving our Family Name in better shape than when our fathers gave it to us; that is the duty we owe." - Steven Stewartsson

Our Name, is not just ours, but our parents', their parents', and on back...it is our siblings', our children's, their children's and on forward...

A Name is a weighty part of life's Burden.

I'm old enough, and come from a "conservative" enough background, that I was taught to never dishonor the Family Name,  to always live my life so that our Name was a source of pride, of smiles, of glad tears, not shame, or scowls, or sorrowful weeping.

My dad told me he was proud of the way I've lived my life thus far...he was aware of my beliefs, and my foibles.

Pride and shame, our two-edged social sword.

One of our great concepts, surviving all these long centuries, lightly covered, but never buried.

A poem from my youth - Poul Anderson - F&FS 1958

Ballade of an Artificial Satellite by Poul Anderson

Thence they sailed far to the southward along the land, and came to a ness; the land lay upon the right; there were long and sandy strands. They rowed to land, and found there upon the ness the keel of a ship, and called the place Keelness, and the strands they called Wonderstrands for it took a long time to sail by them.

Thorfinn Karlsefni’s Voyage to Vinland

One inland summer I walked through rye,
a wind at my heels that smelled of rain
and harried white clouds through a whistling sky
where the great sun stalked and shook his mane
and roared so brightly across the grain
it burned and shimmered like alien sands.-
Ten years old, I saw down a lane
the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.

In ages before the world ran dry,
what might the mapless not contain?
Atlantis gleamed like a dream to die,
Avalon lay under faerie reign,
Cibola guarded a golden plain,
Tir-nan-Og was fair-locked Fand’s,
sober men saw from a gull’s-road wain
the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.

Such clanging countries in cloudland lie;
but men grew weary and they grew sane
and they grew grown - and so did I -
and knew Tartessus was only in Spain.
No galleons called at Taprobane
(Ceylon, with English); no queenly hands
wear gold from Punt; nor sees the Dane
the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.

Ahoy, Prince Andros Horizen’s-bane!
They always wait, the elven lands.
An evening planet gives again
the thunderous light on Wonderstrands.

An editorial comment on our political process...

...in particular how we choose our elected "leaders."

Knights of Mayhem

 Hey all;

Out of the Woods again...thought I'd begin with a non-Asatru essay.

As this blog develops, I'll be pulling in stuff from all the other sites where I've been dispersed over the years.

I finally saw the "Knights of Mayhem" program on NatGeo...the main character around who the program revolves, Charlie Andrews, wears a Mjolnir, however I can find nothing to indicate he is Heathen.

I participated in one form of fully armored, full contact, unchoreographed foot combat for over 25 years.  At some events I spent 5 or 6 hours in armor; fully loaded, I weighted about 70# more than being in street clothes.  Some fights (one on one kind) would be over as quickly as a pass in the list on a horse; "One Shots" we called them.  The longest bout I ever had with one opponent went over 20 minutes, with no time outs.

I've participated in battles with 3000 or more fighters on each side.  It is a great adrenaline rush, because as the two "armies" come together it seems every one of the other side is charging straight at you.

It is not a sport for one is does not have a lot of self-confidence, nor for one who is not physically healthy or fit...and it can breed the sort of arrogance you see in these professional jousters.

I was lucky, only one broken bone in all that time, but I lost count of the dislocations, strains, sprains, muscle tears, bruises, the several concussions, heat exhaustion...if I still had good joints, I'd still be fighting (I'll be 55 in March).

Put that on astride a horse, not me; takes bigger brass ones than I have.