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Array
(
[sid] => 94012
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Life As Seen Through The Eyes Of A Man Like Me
[time] => 2005-05-11 07:45:18
[hometext] => A synopsis of my life
[bodytext] => 
I am the sixty-nine year old son of a poor man who immigrated to this country from Germany at the age of two. He had no formal education. Everything he knew, he taught himself. He was the smartest and the gentlest man I have ever known. My Daddy was, in the beginning, a share cropper; and at the end, a laborer. He was a hard working man of strength and principles for his entire life. He never made over three hundred dollars a month in his lifetime. When he died in 1992, he had raised five children and helped raise fifty grand and great-grand children. He helped educate, feed, clothe, and pay medical expenses, until they were able to sustain themselves. ALL on a salary most would have found insufficient for their own needs. I would love to be a carbon copy of my daddy. Unfortunately, I am not. But, I am working at it I was educated in public schools through grammar and junior high. My high school education was administered by Jesuits. If not for them I would probably not be a retired police officer whose career spanned thirty-six years. The Jesuits taught me discipline. They taught me self respect. After four years of Jesuits came four years in the United States Marine Corp. There, I learned even more about discipline and pride. Immediately after receiving my honorable discharge, I began my police career. My foundation; family morals, Jesuit principles, and Marine Corps pride blended with the prayers and help of a loving spouse to give me the firm footing I needed for the long career that I enjoyed. My greatest achievement was marrying the little girl down the street. I have loved her for as long as I can remember. We were married in 1954 while I was on Marine "boot leave " three months after we graduated from high school. We are the parents of seven children, eighteen grand children, and twelve great-grand children. In 2004 we will, God willing, celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary and witness the arrival of more great-grand children. For the first seven years of our marriage, Pat gave birth to a new Templin each year. First, Joi ... then Johnny, Matt, Terry, Renée, Patti and Robert. I was a father at age nineteen. To be more specific, I was a very young man with a child. I immediately learned my first lesson. ALL children look to mama and daddy for EVERYTHING. Their trust in their parents is as complete a rendition of faith as is possible with human beings. Their life and well being is unconditionally in the hands of the parents. Everything I know about being a father, I learned at the expense of my children. I knew much about pride, about discipline, and responsibility … I knew nothing about parenting. Fatherhood, in my case, consisted of years of “on the job training”. I learned how to make decisions that affected a lot of “little ones”. Little ones that looked to me for everything. Some of those decisions caused much happiness among the “gang of seven”; others caused them some pain. The only bright spot from those times is that we are ALL stronger for having lived out that part of our lives together. By the time pat and I were twenty-five years old we were the guardians of fourteen little legs running about in seven different directions. Crawling in, around, and over every piece of “hand me down” furniture we owned. Furniture that added a new dimension to crawling infants; not just over, under, and around, but also through. most of our furniture had holes that were not part of their design. The children, however, thought that the holes were design features in their indoor playground equipment. They, happily accepted the situation; Pat and I reluctantly accepted; and we all survived. In our case; parents and children grew up together. We still learn from one another. We shall always survive BECAUSE we shall always have each other to lean on. Our children, whom I refer to as "The Magnificent Seven", spent their growing-up years involved in a lifestyle that was somewhat unusual. Our methods for solving out-of-family problems were unique compared to other families. We were indeed a family that practiced the principle, "all for one ... and one for all". Befriend one ... befriend all. Fight one ... FIGHT ALL! We had more good times than bad, and our memories are plentiful. As our children left home to start life with their chosen spouses, there was no way to know how soon they would each return with their contribution to the next generation. The new "hole in the wall gang” that would keep us all on our toes. I looked forward to the "new" generation. I thought the good times would last forever. Then I got "OLD"! I had no idea what surprises "old age" had in store for me. Age, pain and "retirement"... can, and do, bring the strongest of men to their knees. I know. I was a strong man ...ONCE. I still have STRONG feelings and I sometimes use strong language. But the truth is that I am no longer strong enough to do those things that I had reserved for my retirement pleasure. I have evolved from young man ...to old. Gone from an active law enforcement officer... to retired. I am between the alpha... and the omega. I have too much time...which passes too quickly. My Mondays and Fridays have become like one and the same day. Every day is a Saturday now. I am Happy... but dissatisfied! THIS is my existence! These feelings are the feelings of one who grows old against his will. Who ever really gets to know a man like me? Who would believe a volatile personality, such as mine, could be gentle, kind, or have the capacity to forgive those who may have wronged him? I see life as a series of contradicting events. I believe living is meant to be painful. This existence is a learning experience meant to gauge one’s propensity for surviving any and all adversities. The next life will be either Paradise, or Hell, depending on the choices made and lessons learned in this existence. Could we really prepare ourselves for tomorrow … if nothing ever goes wrong today? If nothing challenges us to our inner core, nor defines what real pain is … how do we overcome; survive; and become reasonably satisfied with the solutions such experiences dictate … regardless of the pain factor? After all these years it’s as if I never grew up. My mind is clear … I have a better grasp on life and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Who says there is no God? My cup is neither half full, nor half empty … it runneth over! There will always be some who believe that life’s journey is more than leaving a name, and a date, chiseled on some cold marble stone, in a desolate spot along Humanity’s well traveled path. I am one of those! I was born in mid-morning on the fourth day of the fifth month in the year 1936. My mom’s second attempt at bringing life into a world where nothing seemed to live or grow. Drought, weeds, sand. and poverty were our lot. More of a haven for snakes, locusts, fleas, and boll-weevils than for humans. Her first was still-born, so she was determined that I would live. And live I did! Poverty, and its effect, is not the off-spring of hopelessness, it is the parent. Not everyone can survive being born into such a void. It takes a special breed to grow and thrive in such a hostile environment. Poverty breathes strength into the destitute who recognize its virtues; avoid its vices; and escape its clutches. My parents were strong, honest, and poor tillers of the soil. Someone else’s soil. My daddy was a share cropper. and NOT a successful one! There has probably never been a person that meets the definition of a “successful share-cropper”. Daddy was no exception. My mother was the first born of eight. This included three sisters and four brothers. She was a supportive wife and a homemaker. But, a homemaker without a home, or the tools with which to begin such a task. Still, the two of them persisted; they overcame every obstacle. I was their first crop that lived! Whatever I am; whatever I become; is the direct result of the chances I was given, and the lessons I learned from my parents. Neither had a formal education, but they taught me the lessons of life and manhood through the “Master’s Degree” in Love, Kindness, and Wisdom that God had bequeathed them. A degree that demanded strength, patience, a propensity to endure pain and suffering, and a strong moral sense of values, as a prerequisite for its conferral. Hard times were the order of the day in the thirties, and we were always around when the daily allotment was measured and handed down to the deserving few. God never made our portion imanageable, but we knew that God knew who we were, and where we were located. If adversity makes God’s children strong, we had to be at, or near, the top of His, “My favorites” list. Success is such a hollow word. If I accomplish what I set out to achieve I am a success. If I can avoid doing that which is expected of me (but, it is something I don’t want to do) I am successful again. I am not as strong as I once thought I was. Do not mistake me for the example of a moral man. I am not. I’m just a man. Not a good man. Not a bad man. I’m a happy man. I know who I am. I know what I am. I accept whatever goodness I may possess, as an inherited virtue. I reject the darkness and, faithfully and patiently, await the coming of the light. The years, though ample, have passed as quickly, and as silently as the night. Never enough time. Never enough rest. So much to do and so little talent with which to do it. If I had been the man I thought myself to be, I would already have finished my life’s work and, at this moment be searching for new challenges. That, however, has never been my plight. I know nothing of speed. I know only that which daddy taught me. Work slowly over those things that are of the most importance. That which must be done, deserves to be done correctly. Like so many men before me, I fell short of my own expectations, but exceeded my minimal capabilities and talents to the point that I am not perceived to be as ‘drab’ a man as I really am. A man is as weak as his flesh, and as strong as his faith. The “I believe” part of my character is my greatest strength. I believe that the strength of my relationship with God will negate my, sometimes excessive, urge to ‘round off the sharp corners’ and obey my painless version of His commandments. God has a great sense of humor; but, He doesn’t laugh if it ain’t funny. Even in a “God is my friend” relationship; if you want to be safe; be obedient! If you want to be funny; have very good material! Life has never been a struggle, except during those periods when I resisted doing things that I knew had to be done God’s way. No matter how hard I worked; no matter how much time and energy I expended; when my way was in conflict with His way; I was always the loser. My goal is to achieve salvation. The path, though well known, is not well traveled. There are no short-cuts, but there are many enticements along the way. I am not frightened! I have my personal guide to lead me home. His name is Jesus. He loves me! He laughs at my jokes. I must have very good material. Why else would He want me to spend eternity with Him? John F. Templin © [comments] => 6 [counter] => 206 [topic] => 21 [informant] => reflections [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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