Shades Gone Away
I looked over and through my pockets, sitting in the front driving seat of the van, after I had driven to pick up the family in Harper's Ferry, nearer the Potomac River by the tourist shops. Sunday evening-- not too hot. Hot enough to make me sweat a few times that evening, from the Antietam Battlefield sites we had visited, to this historic area of the convergence of the rivers and the states. Maryland and West Virginia. First time visits for two of our guests. The train tracks, the Shenandoah and the Potomac.
No, the sun glasses were not on me, not found in any of my multiple pockets, not in the vehicle. I had walked fast to get where I was going, back to the parking lot up the road, outside of town. The same lot where we had parked in chilly 2006, the first time we as a family had alighted on historic and picturesque Harper's Ferry. The Toyota Minivan was new; we had two little girls and the wife was pregnant with our third, who was to be our first boy, later that warm summer. Good memories. Not a ton of money, work, or stability, but we were newly moved and things were all right. No debts, little health insurance, but the future lay ahead. We were making it. We did not do a lot of vacationing or traveling that year living in Ashburn, but we made some in-roads, created some roots or links, and learned and grew and prepared for the future. What would it be? To be determined, 19 years later...
In 2025, July, I was lamenting the loss of a small item that had been close to me. Shades.
We were far from life and death, as some people have to face. Like the 50 year-old John Marshall who died at the battle site of Sharpsburg, September 17, 1862. His lone grave by a battle scarred tree is supervised by a couple others. The photos is large and impressive. Did they bury him and and memorialize him so quickly after the fighting, because of his more advanced age? Born in Ireland, hailing from Wisconsin, I believe. He, a white man, provided his life as ultimate sacrifice. Five days after the bloody carnage, Abraham Lincoln declared the enslaved ones free.
Finally. It had to be done, as I added in a note that I dropped into the collection box asking for comments, in the basement full of placards and displays at the visiting center. Free at last! Free at last? Are any of us really, true free? Freedom is relative. We got in "free" (of charge) because of my military status. Not a free thing, certainly. Paid for.
My old sun glasses, found freedom last night, according to my wife. "They needed a break." (Turns out, she need a break, too, in regards to a kidney stone.)
They had served me well, for a long time. These brownish shades. Fit well, comfy. Useful. I cannot recall where or when I acquired them. One of the best runs I have had with shades, I think. Shades come and go. So do eye glasses of the prescription kind.
I lost a pair last year in the West; I think I wrote about it. That is frustrating. However, they were old, they were smudged. I found a replacement over the winter that seems to do the trick. Life moves on, small cookies. I left the old pair at the airport car rental return, absent mindedly leaving them in the ceiling holder. Oh! Small potatoes. Besides, the Army has bestowed a couple pair of prescription glasses on me, too. If I have not explained before, there are now six reasons that I wear prescription glasses. Not for here, but simply keep in mind. Perhaps I have shared it before.
Sun glasses, shades, are a luxury, but very helpful. Without them I know my eyes and maybe brain would be more addled. Last month a guy from work commented that this dark brownish pair that I was wearing looked a bit tactical. I did not think of them as such, but I did get a good practical used from them. Did I have them a year ago? I think so. Maybe longer? Two years is possible. I got a lot of good use from them. Now I have a back-up pair, that are black and not bad. Just not quite as comfortable.
We lose things. Stuff breaks down and falls apart. This summer we did a fix on our old Honda four door sedan, which was the air compressor, identified by our oldest son, who was the fetus of our first Harper's Ferry visit. Not too expensive a fix; my wife and I did most of the labor of the replacement. Hopefully makes the car last a lot longer. The miles are piling up. 160,000 thousand miles? More? Our dryer upstairs died a while ago, (back when it was cold, in the winter?); we tried to diagnose and fix it. It was not the heating element, we think, or two other malfunctions related to it, but likely the starter, that was bad since we inherited the machine back in 2017. The mechanical starter of the dryer, bad from the get go when we arrived.
What else? The front door floor jam had a gash in it, which required some work. Replacement screws and a plate. And our neighbor's horse sense. What else? The lawn mower. We changed out the oil, the spark plug, bought some starting fluid (is that the name?), and figured out that it is likely a dirty carburetor. We think we will get another for about 50 bucks, or maybe much less.
Dollars and sense. Freedom. Things that we all care about, most days of our lives. Wars are driven by both, when you analyze it properly.
Oil. Power. Influence. Wealth. Freedom. Sovereignty. Biblical values. Moral imperatives. Conservation or preservation of our world, our earth.
We went through the old stomping grounds of John Brown, heroic or crazed freedom fighter. He was a white abolitionist who cared about humans being free more than his own life. He brought feelings, ideas, rights, and laws to the fore. He was an extremist but his gut intentions were right. No bondage for anyone.
An epic hero, really, in the scheme of things. As I explain to the younger guys around here the whole story line of the fictional Rambo series. Let us talk about real people and heroes.
Lee and McLellan, who lead the deadly battles back in the 1860s, for the South and the North. Fighting, literally and spiritually, for the freedom and lives of our citizens. They, the commanders, get most of the credit and blame. Meanwhile thousands of lesser knowns wage the combat with huge, awful cannons, a National Ambassador tour guy named Mike, a retired doctor, explaining to our group how the batteries operated and fought. Quite the process. The flames of the cannon barrel were not easy nor simple. Well, maybe simple, once the process was perfected. It took a lot of teamwork, and in the pitch of the fight you would hope your partners are not knocked out of it. Eight or so guys had to make the battery work.
The toll was bad. The most casualties for the country in the whole war, from 1861 to 1865. This was loss. Tragic losses led us closer to a war triumph.
Here I am, almost two decades later, complaining of losing my sun glasses! Small losses, small things. Not life, not body, not soul. Human bonds are so much greater than the material. I have not lost much in this incident.
Not even love and loss of people in relationships, who we love and cherish, the jealousies or envies of how others are living, or who or what they love, or succeed, or fail. We lose in such thoughts. We are imperfect, true. All the dramas and traumas of real life do not compare at all to these items to protect my eyes. And my mind, I guess.
But in a small fashion, the loss of anything, something that had become particular and attached to me, as these shades, represent the wistful longing of losing. The melancholy and heartache of loss. It happens.
Losing, failing, not succeeding, not achieving. Missing out. The lost sheep, the forgotten penny.
Is that the pang of remorse or regret that permeates me?
Yes. It is more than these objects that I carried with me, and had built up my own relationship with. More than a book, a story, a lawn mower or dryer. A car. Small things can symbolize deeper things. More emotional connections, like family, friends, colleagues. We can sometimes lose any of them. Hard to predict.
I saw a picture of a car we used for a year, then was scrapped in an unfortunate yet blessed to have no injuries fender bender. We got back the cost of it in insurance. But the utility and convenience was bigger than its dollar price. No harm, no foul. We got back its price, and used its service for a year. No permanent damage or harm. Mostly benefit.
Not the worst. We are okay. Physically, financially, emotionally. Lessons learned.
The sun glasses, brown, have now likely gone to their resting place (or another owner) in the town more famous of John Brown. Brown, what can you do for me? A place my wife does not want to move to. No problem, no loss there.
Lincoln, what have you done for us? Were you lost to history? Of course not.
Half a million war dead: what have you done for us? Are you forgotten? Never.
Four and a half million formerly enslaved African descended liberated people, men, women, and children: where did you go from there? What became of your children, grandchildren, and children of them?
Were their rights not really restored enough? Were too many not given enough of a chance to get ahead? African-Americans have had extra losses to account for, I believe some things that many of the white majority cannot fully fathom.
John Brown, would you still be fighting today?
Yes. You crazy lout. You gave your life for your beliefs, radical yet sensible and righteous though they were.
What am I saying? What have I said?
Losing is hard. Leaving behind cherished items and tools is tough. We count our blessings with what we maintain and retain, especially the most import things, like people and life, and love.
We may lose all of the above. But we have not.
We will keep and guard the most important of these people and things.
And freedom. Also known as liberty.
What have I said? What am I saying?
Live to love, to keep what is worth it, and be grateful that the big things that could be lost are not. Be thankful for the things that we lose but were well used.
Glasses. Mowers. Dryers. Cars. Parts and possessions; we will replace them. People? Hold them as close as you can! Hold on as long as possible.
Hold on to the most important attachments and people! Freedom, memory, life, love, and commitments, covenants, promises, God, country.
I love my family, my Heavenly Father and His Son, my country, my world, my planet.
My life.
This is my life. I have to love it. There are going to be losses. But many wins, and finds.
We even have to love the losses. Because it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
This is the freedom and beauty of our lives. Living, losing, loving, moving. Progressing.
So we move on.
I love you!
