I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. 2 Timothy 4:7
This Biblical verse readily comes to mind as I sit at my keyboard today. I am 68 years old and have had a father up until a few days ago; now his absence is deeply felt. Somewhere I read that when a person dies it is as a library with all its knowledge having burned down. In Dad’s case the library was large. I learned much from him but now no longer can go to him to search his historical, biographical, political, economic, or social knowledge. His mind operated well except for the final two weeks. He read two daily papers - The MInneapolis Tribune and The Fargo Forum - and two county papers - Enderlin and Lisbon - plus assorted magazines. He read many books during his lifetime. He told me as a youth that whenever he could gather a few cents together he would order a book through the mail. A history book club furnished him many hours of reading, and he loved western stories like those written by Zane Grey. Before electricity came to our farm he read each night sitting with his white forehead and weathered face by light of a gas lantern while I sprawled on the floor within the lit circle to draw my pictures or read my own material.
The picture of Dad I placed on the front cover of my last book of poems also hangs on my office wall along with a photo of his dad and his dad. Beyond those men we have little or no knowledge. I can only hope he is in a place now where he can visit with them and acquaint himself with the unknown fathers.
… I have kept the faith. He never wore his religious beliefs on his sleeve, but I know he held them. He spoke to me about his doubts of whether or not he’d ever been baptized. He’d never seen record of it, and it must have bothered him enough to keep bringing it up. A couple of years ago while he was hospitalized and when a pastor from his church dropped in, I suggested baptism. Both Dad and the pastor were willing. So it was.
