Notes from the minister
….
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
… grow old ... I grow old ...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me. (From “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock,” T.S. Eliot)
I’ve been thinking about my stepmother Jane, who resisted giving up activities and pleasures as she
aged. Well into her seventies she insisted on going for a spin on water-skis once a season, just to prove
to herself and the rest of us that she still could. My father, the boat driver, did not conceal his irritation
as she tried and fell, tried and fell, tried and fell. Finally she would succeed in getting up, and he would
then drive as gently as he could in a small, wide-curved course.
She remained a member of the ski patrol at a local hill, well past the point where she was able to tow a
sled. And I remember the last time she sailed solo – in a small Sunfish on a fairly calm day, staying
close to shore. Somehow she managed to capsize, and she didn’t especially appreciate being rescued.
“That’s Jane,” we’d say to each other. “Obstinate.”
Looking back, I admire her for her stubbornness – for sticking with activities that gave her pleasure, even
when common sense would seem to dictate it was time to let them go.
“Do I dare to eat a peach?”
You might think that the question applies only to those of a certain age, and that the worry is about injuring teeth or jaw, hitting the peach stone. I think the fear is equally of the enjoyment – biting through
fuzzy skin to savor the sweet flesh and letting juice spill out and over fingers. Fear and a belief we don’t
deserve the pleasure, or would be disappointed, or can’t deal with stickiness. A sad, self-defeating conviction that the mermaids will not sing to me. That can happen to anyone, at any age.
February is a month of cold and hunkering down, a month when daring may seem out of place. Peaches are not in season. But I invite you, this month, to dare to eat one, in whatever way you can imagine.
Perhaps you’ll hear the mermaids sing to you.
It is good to be here as your minister.
TO CONTACT THE MINISTER: Please email or call for an appointment Mondays, Tuesdays, or Thursdays. [email protected]; 584-1390 x202 (office); 727-8497 (home – before 9 pm for non-emerg encies)
The Pioneer 2