The Legacy of Family and Place

January 1, 2010

This week I’m writing from Red Oak, Iowa. What? You’ve never heard of Red Oak, Iowa? I’m surprised. If you’ve ever mailed in a magazine subscription you probably mailed it to Red Oak. I traveled here this week, with my dad, to attend my grandmother’s funeral, which was on New Year’s Eve. An odd juxtaposition of events, to be sure.

My dad comes from a family of farmers. My uncle Dennis still raises hogs. Uncle Jack leases out his land but is still involved in growing corn and soybeans. My grandfather was a farmer. In fact, my great-grandpa Bylund immigrated to northern Iowa from Sweden and was a homesteader until he retired. The interesting thing is that my mom’s family is from Red Oak as well. I drove by my mom’s childhood home again yesterday. A big beautiful house on the hill. My dad says he married up; not quite sure why those folks on the hill hung around with him. Their family was not as well off and lived in the flats at the bottom of the hill. The Methodist church that my grandmother was a member of is the same church my parents attended when they were kids. The church hosted the reception after the funeral. I’d never been inside this church. Upstairs is a gorgeous sanctuary where my parents were married in 1966.

Why do I say all this? Because while it was definitely odd to spend New Years Eve at a funeral and then listen to a country western cover band play to a crowd of probably 30 people, as the New Year approached, it was a rare privilege to be with aunts, uncles and cousins that I only see every 5–10 years. And more than on previous visits, I felt connected to the story of my dad’s family, as screwed up and dysfunctional as it is. I have so little in common with a hog farmer from Iowa, a poor, jobless mother of four, a corporate attorney living in suburban Delaware or a Lt. Colonel preparing to take a teaching post at West Point. But somehow they are my family.

I also marvel at my family’s ability to stay in this tiny Midwestern farming town for going on four generations. To this very day Red Oak has only 6,000 residents. During the viewing my dad was greeted by a former classmate who is now a physician. He used to run around with my dad when they were in High School in the early 60s, spending time at my grandmother’s house. Later in life he became my grandmother’s doctor. Now he was gray-haired and standing at my grandmother’s funeral. I commented about how remarkable it must be to see the passage of time and share that with his patients over the course of a lifetime. This is a kind of “pitching one’s tent” that is increasingly rare in today’s hyper-mobile society. I barely know these family members because we moved, first to Ohio and then to California. At the beginning of this New Year I sense God calling me to stay put; to resist the urge to move around from place to place and instead to invest my life where I am. I hope this year God will give you opportunities to be where you are. Not living in the past. Not longing for the future. But enjoying today, where your feet meet the ground, with the people you are with. Happy New Year!

Grace and peace

Ryan