One Prayer

"Hey, Dad, why doesn't our family name follow the i-before-e rule?" asked wily Dylan, aged 11.

"I don't really know," I stumbled.

"Because we are awesome!" interjected Dylan. "We break the rules."

My own Dad used to enjoy pointing out that a "weir" is a dam in old English, as well as modern British English (we never use the term over here in the colonies.) Dad loved to say that it was fine for people to say "those damn Weirs," because they were just being descriptive (or more precisely, redundant.)

I'm thinking of my father tonight for a number of reasons. None more immediate than the fact that my sole surviving blood relative from my parents' generation, Uncle George Anderson, underwent a risky surgery today, and I'm thinking about him, Aunt Reta, Dan, George and Betty, especially because they all are still recovering from losing the youngest boy in the family, Gordie, earlier this year.

If I could pray without being a hypocrite, I'd pray for Uncle George to have a safe recovery, and remain in the world with us. As it is, I'll just say that. You are in my mind tonight. May you recover, and have a healthier future than otherwise would have been likely.

I respect my uncle -- a lot. I know he had to travel across state lines to get this operation, which is not necessarily recommended for a person of his age and in his shape. But his quest is to live more fully, or not to live at all.

My mother, his sister, made the same choice four and a half years ago. In her case, technology did not present an acceptable (to her) option. In her little brother's case, technology, albeit risky, does.

So he's going for it. I love my extended family, with so many courageous people, each in his or her own way. They've all fed my spirit these 60 years; if I can give anything of value back, may it be this: Us Andersons and Weirs are first-generation immigrants in this strange world. We are tough; we know how to survive.

Let's continue to do so, and show others that the only hope you need to have is your own. Stay hopeful; there's so much to live for, at any age.

***

Meanwhile, I got the invitation at the top of this post from my youngest today. Her animal? A Siberian Tiger. I'll be there.

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