*****
"PAPAW'S DIRT"
Before the package of Sassafras
root arrived, cousin Eva Ray emailed me that the roots were still a little
dirty but, she added, "It's Papaw's dirt."
What she meant was that the roots
were dug from land that used to belong to Papaw Conrad, and therefore to us
older folks in the family it was invested with a touch of sacredness. This was
the dirt that Papaw plowed with a team of horses, the dirt on which he'd set
his rabbit traps, and the dirt that stuck to his shoes when he just wandered
around looking at things, which people used to do.
Maybe the two most profound ways to
divide humanity into two parts are these:
- Those who do and those who don't have a feeling for family
- Those who do and those who don't have a feeling for the land
In the old days nearly everyone fit
into the "do" part of each grouping. Nowadays the trend is definitely
toward the "don't" sides. That's too bad, for my impression is that
people living in emotional solitude are generally unhappy and dysfunctional in
one way or another. Similarly, those with no feeling for the land tend to live
their lives without regard to the environmental consequences, the cumulative
effects of which, done by so many who also have no feeling, is to threaten all
Life on Earth.
Of course there are remedies for
this state of affairs, and they are simple and well known ones. Most religions,
most philosophers, most Black mammies and backcountry Papaws all agree on them:
"Live simply"; "don't be a hog"; "be decent to one
another." But there's something in the human character that causes us to
choose other paths.
Anyway, Papaw's dirt on the
sassafras root was a double-barreled hello from my family and from the Earth.
Many a good, hot cups of tea I have enjoyed this week ruminating on the
thoughts these dirty roots stirred up.
*****
PICKLE JUICE
Monday morning I awakened groggy and annoyed because the Eastern
Woodrats introduced in the December 9 Newsletter had thumped and
bumped all night beneath the trailer. This was unusual because the rats have
done this all winter and usually I find their presence good company. Often I
have to laugh, imagining what shenanigans must be going on below for such
unlikely noises to be produced.