Endings
When I was a young man, a student at LSU during the early 1970’s, I traveled from Louisiana to California, hitchhiking with a friend. On our return trip, we were somewhere near the New Mexico/Texas state line, when a man whose age was about the age that I am now gave us a ride all the way to Dallas, about 350 miles.
I don’t remember anything about that gentleman, except that he was very friendly, and he enjoyed talking to a couple of young people. In fact he did, I think, most of the talking. What I do remember is that, as we were approaching Dallas, he began explaining everything there was to know about the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, which had happened on November 22, 1963. His explanation of the tragic murder culminated as we arrived at Dealey Plaza, where the assassination had taken place. That was an historical ending that stands firmly in the memory of my baby boomer g-generation — the assassination . . . but also my visit to Dallas.
Earlier in 1963, President Kennedy had visited Berlin and invited the citizens of the world to come to Berlin: “Let them come to Berlin!”. . . to see the difference between our American way of doing things and the Soviets’ way of doing things, because the Russians had built a wall to keep us freedom freaks out of their communist side of the city, or maybe it was the other way around.
Years later, one of my grown children had visited Berlin and brought back this souvenir:
Even more years later, after our daughter had married a US Air Force pilot who was stationed at the NATO air base near Papa, Hungary, we were visiting there. We took a side trip to Vienna. While there, we visited the Schonbrunn Palace, which had been the home base of the Hapsburg dynasty. We visited the historic room where the last Hapsburg “Emperor”, Carl, had, at the conclusion of World War I, signed away the monarchy on November 11, 1918, officially ending the Hapsburg empire and any claims.I snapped this picture of what I call the “end room” of an empire that had reigned in central Europe since 1804.
This morning, as I was viewing a few YouTube documentaries, I got the notion to write these comments about “Endings.”
. . . because, you know, at some point, we will all have one of our own.
And here’s one more pic that just occurred to me:
This is my grandfather Carey, whose ending came in 1950. It’s a multiple of mug shots from his World War I service. He died in 1950, and so my mother named me after him. That was his ending; my beginning came soon thereafter, in 1951.
And one day I will have my ending; but it will also be an eternal beginning, thanks to the Hebrew prophet who died on a cross at Calvary and then lived to tell about it. His testimony of an unending, eternal life was delivered all the way to me, and it is a testimony that has no end. If you have any questions about his identity, maybe you’ll ask them in the comments.
