A letter from Dan Srickland, Clerk of SCQM
I recently turned 79, not a remarkable number (except for being a prime, of course – I see you, fellow math geeks). The next birthday will be a big one, though. I remember everyone talking about the “Big 3-0”. Well, hold my beer! So it’s for me becoming a time of mulling over where I am, who I am, and where I’m going. A year of reflection. It’s been a year of loss, personal for me as our house and its contents turned to ash in the Eaton Firestorm. A number of Orange Grove Friends’ Meeting people lost much in that firestorm. For myself, I was surprised to discover the degree to which the house, the things within it, the surroundings and neighbors are a part of my identity. The cliché goes “it’s only stuff”, which certainly speaks to Quakers – but I feel a part of me is gone.
Others among my friends have losses – friends, family, spouses – and apart from the ache of each loss, there’s a sense, I think, of wondering how the loss changes us as individuals. I’m an old Peace Corps volunteer, and served in a country where the volunteers tend to remain a tightly knit community. So we hear about, sometimes see in person, our old friends in declining health, hear when they die, and wonder at how friends who are still young – a year or so younger than I, for Pete’s sake – could be gone.
I think many of us feel that same sense of loss over what has happened to our country. I feel some trepidation at mentioning politics in this context, so I’ll be brief, but I see anger, fear, and mourning among my friends. I see, as well, that same concern over a loss of identity, who we are as a people.
At meeting for worship recently a Friend talked about his grandfather, who recently turned 109, putting my 79 in a very different perspective. The grandfather is officially one of the 10 oldest men in the US. The funny stereotype is a reporter asking the elder how they lived so long, and being told the secret is a daily pack of Camels and a pint of Jim Beam. The Friend observed his grandfather over a visit or two, and saw that he constantly had friends come visit. Lots of conversations, jokes, stories. Maybe that’s how we all survive and thrive, as individuals and as communities, spiritual and otherwise. Lots of visits, gatherings (such as this one I’m calling you to), shared meals, telling stories and planning for future gatherings and visits.
Come to the quarterly spring gathering, join us in the Santa Barbara Meetinghouse, and enjoy our extended community. Let us help, support, heal, and find hope with each other.
