|
|
David Spates I respect any uncle who takes a shot I wonder if, after I die, anyone will think
my life was interesting enough to write a book about it. I doubt
it, but you never know. I'm not sure I've done anything book-worthy
in my first 31 years of life, but, statistically speaking, I've
got plenty of years in which I could do something provoking enough
to inspire someone else to consider a David Spates biography. But, again, I doubt it. The fact is that there aren't that many people
who are so interesting that they spur writers to fire up their
word processors. I think everyone is noteworthy to some degree,
but there are very few of us who warrant a spot on the library
shelves. There are billions of people in the world, and the library
shelves simply cannot accommodate all of their stories. Who would
want to read them, anyway? That's why I think it's fairly remarkable
that someone took the effort to write a book about my great-great-uncle.
His name was Leland Case, and he came from South Dakota's Black
Hills. He lived a full life, and that's what I respect most about
him. Uncle Leland wasn't content to stand along
the parade route with his hands in his pockets. He stood up and
pursued his passions, and how many of us can truthfully say that?
I mean really pursue our passions? Many of us simply shrug
our shoulders and let our dreams pass by. Can most people honestly
say they chase their dreams with all the energy they can muster?
We only get one ride on the merry-go-round, and I think Uncle
Leland understood that. His goals certainly weren't my goals, and
his passions would have bored me to tears, but I have to respect
the man who takes his shot. During his finite time on Earth, Leland served
as editor of The Rotarian, a magazine for Rotary Club
members, and Together, the magazine of the Methodist Church.
He's generally regarded as being a pivotal editor in the histories
of both publications. Also during his professional career, Uncle
Leland interviewed two icons of aviation - Orville Wright, whom
he met years after Orville and his brother made their historic
flight in 1903, and Charles Lindbergh, hours after the transatlantic
flight. He even convinced Einstein to write a piece for him.
I know, I know. Albert Einstein. But those are just the resumé highlights.
What I found most interesting in reading the biography, Jarvis
Harriman's The Man From The Hills, is what stirred Leland's
passions during the few hours a day he didn't spend at work.
He helped create The Westerners, an organization with more than
100 chapters worldwide dedicated to the preservation of Western
United States history. He also played a major role in establishing
and continuing the efforts of other organizations focusing on
the history of the West: The Friends of the Middle Border, the
Jedediah Smith Society and the Archives and History Commission
of the Methodist Church, to name a few. And for good measure,
tack on a library or two and art collections featured at small
colleges in South Dakota and Arizona. Some of his projects succeeded
remarkably. Others fell short of his vision, but still he gave
it his best try. Why was he so passionate about all of this?
I have no idea. I don't have a substantial interest in any of
it. I'm not a Rotarian, and I'm not a Methodist, nor do I particularly
care about the history of the Middle Border or Pastor Jedediah
Smith. I have family in South Dakota and love visiting there,
but that's about as far as I go. I can't imagine how or why anyone
would get so worked up over any of it. That's not my point. It's the dedication and focus that impresses
me so much. The drive to see a project through and to realize
a dream is what earns my total respect. Uncle Leland could have
resigned himself to the notion that what was important to him
wasn't all that important to most people, but his enthusiasm
wouldn't allow it. He left his mark on the world. It's not a
terribly enormous mark, but it's his mark, and it's worthy
of some measure of applause. So again, I wonder. Will I do anything so
weighty as to warrant a biography? It's entirely up to me. It's my life, and
I can do with it as little or as much as I want. Life is not
a passive activity. We can wait for things to come to us, or
we can pursue our goals and dreams with vigor. I don't believe
in destiny. Life is what you make of it. Living and existence
are two different things. I wish I had read Harriman's book years ago.
My mother gave it to me in 1995 as a Christmas present, but it
stood in my bookshelf untouched while I read fictitious "spine-tinglers"
and "page-turners" about murders, lawsuits, conspiracies
and criminal investigations. Finally, I came across The Man
From The Hills a few weeks ago and just finished it yesterday.
Is it dull in places? Absolutely. A "page-turner" it
ain't, but the book's overriding message is one worth remembering. There's no shame in not succeeding. The shame comes in not trying, and I appreciate Uncle Leland reminding me of that. · · · |