…but there is no ending.

I really didn’t know how to begin my interview with a 96-year-old United Church minister whose congregation was now the world at large, “And this [his] life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.”

I didn’t have to. He did it for me. He and his wife finished the guided tour of their new apartment comprising one bedroom, one all-purpose sitting room with a galley kitchen in the corner close to the dining room (the table for two) bringing us to the library, an impressive floor-to-ceiling wall-length bookcase with double rows of books on each shelf including a staggering number of bibles. I must have looked surprised—no—astonished.

“Those are my study books,” he explained. I guess he’d been watching my face. “Our daily Bible is on our bed table.”

“I’m studying Hebrew, “ he said. “Finally, I’ll have time to really understand the OLD TESTAMENT. (I could hear the capitol letters.).

He noticed my face again and went on to explain. “You see, I’I’m preparing for it. If I have the language, if I have the words, then I can put my time to use. I’m being given this pre-ultimate gift to get ready for my after-life. What other proof do I need to be certain that I will be busy?” This is paraphrasing. His belief has stayed with me all this time

I’m going to look up my book (No Two Alike), and check what he said.

I have to swim now.

to be continued

It’s late now but it’s still the 12th. I spent all afternoon with a new basket of files and I’ve thrown away more than I have been doing, but also discovering more.

I have a new pile with a new label, a category I recognize that is just for me, for me to keep and re-read and savour until I leave. Then my successors can throw the whole file away, out, into the dumpster. I’ll take what I learned with me.

Years ago I wrote a book for the United Church about people gathered but not used for a TV special created for the Centennial to celebrate “The Human Journey”. I was assigned to interview them, two from each province, and write a prose presentation—”No two Alike”. One of my subjects was a retired United Church minister who had recently moved with his wife into a retirement home (assisted living). They were like newly-weds, excited about their tiny new apartment, crammed with the furniture and mementos of their long life together, plus new curtains and cushions in fresh colours to decorate or mask signs of age and lovely new dshes to set their table for two.

It’s coming on tomorrow. I’ll finish my story then.

Actually, therre is no end.