Monday, May 12, 2014

LIGHT FOOTPRINT





Recently I have been worrying about the depth of the footprint that will trace my former presence when I finally depart this place.  It’s a nagging idle concern, certainly, triggered I think by noticing that someone had removed me from their “blogroll.”  (For non-initiates, a blogroll is a blog recommendations links-list that bloggers post for their readers.)    

Previously, I considered my inclusion in this particular blogroll to be my singular measure of fame in this world. The excision returned me to  total & absolute obscurity.

Obviously (and I promise not to belabor the subject), this pointless dull worry shouldn’t distract me from the Main Event consisting of trying to live a virtuous productive life, matching an estimable reach to a formidable grasp, and imbuing my daughter with these goals.  As for fame, when an active, well-informed person like me experiences continual & mounting difficulties recognizing the celebrity names and faces in the “fame magazines” I buy every week, that should be a sledgehammer-obvious clue that fame is temporary like Achilles & a doubtful neighborhood for sightseeing or loitering. 


 


Last night at Zach’s graduation party with our Sproat cousins, we had a joyous, deeply affecting time overlooking the West Chester golf course, appearing appropriately “baronial” in the twilight.   In this fine company I remembered and thought about Maj. General Smedley D. Butler (a cousin from the other side of the family) eternally resting nearby in Oakland Friends Cemetery, my late mother-in-law Caroline Butler Prutzman (also at Oakland), and especially Captain William Sproat of the Continental Army, who fought with General George Washington and wintered at  the 1777-78 Valley Forge encampment. The encampment included within its boundaries Signal Hill, Chester County's apex, which lends its name to my house. 

Captain Sproat, a survivor of the 1777 Paoli Massacre, lives here with us.  He beckons and commands our attention constantly by opening locked cabinets and closed doors & shifting positions.  He has friends here with him. They all seem to be living it up in Elysium unconcerned about the depth of their footprints, which clearly are substantial enough.   



 

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