I’ll be an ancestor one day!

Maori burial ground a few blocks from where we are staying. 

Tupuna = grandparent, ancestor.

Today I am thinking about ancestors. There are several things leading me to think about this.

(1) Near the ferry terminal on Waiheke Island, by the beach there is a lawn area. Next to it is a sign saying something like, “This is an ancient burial area for our ancestors, please respect it as such.” In this area many years ago Maori laid their loved ones to rest. The nearest beach to where we are staying has a similar area fenced off with several headstones showing family plots.  I walk past these places with a sense of reverence. It brings to mind the journey of those who have gone before.  Those who first established human society, family and community in this place and who contributed to the nature of New Zealand society today, are lying here.  In a Maori meeting house ancestors are remembered by carvings and symbols on the wall. Often when speakers are speaking they will place a hand on the wall recognizing and relying on the wisdom of the ancestors. In their culture they have a sense of link to their ancestors and the current of life flowing from them.

(2) I am staying with my son, his wife and their daughter.  I am soon to travel to Scotland to catch up on another son and his family there.  While living here with my son I see in him elements, good and bad, of me. I look at my grand daughter and see the same, in her mannerisms and her way of attacking life. There are similarities in her appearance to my father as a young boy in an old photograph I have somewhere at home.

(3) This visit really reinforces that I am a grandfather.  I am “Pop”.  There is a new grandchild expected any day.  I am, for now, really retired… not working. I have reached the stage where if a newspaper reporter was to report on an accident I had, they would say “An elderly man …”  I do not feel elderly! I am trying to go for a very intentional walk every day to get back a measure of fitness and youthfulness. But the reality is that I will be an ancestor soon enough… I hope a decade or so yet, but I am headed that way.

(4) I am finding that at this stage of life, while still looking forward to new adventures, I am doing a lot of reflecting on the journey so far. This is not morbid. I am going through a transition in the journey of life, entering a new stage. It is natural to reflect on the journey so far.  I can see in the journey influences of people – My father (a plumber, a soldier, thinker and churchman,) Uncle Harry (Smith - who I spent many Saturday’s gardening with, who with another man - Doc. A L Haddon - got me involved in compassionate causes.) Uncle George (a farmer, lover of poetry and all things “Wild Western” ) several friends of the family who loved drawing and painting; Arthur Templeton my childhood minister who was liberal in theology;  etc etc. - I could write pages on all the people who have influenced my journey, there are so many.  They are my ancestors. They are a part of who I am and have been partners in my journey through life.  I wonder what sort of legacy I will leave as an ancestor?

I think we in western societies ought to be much more open to our ancestors, and recognize much more than we do, their presence in our lives.

We might then also begin to ask more frequently, “What sort of ancestor will I be? What sort of world will I pass on? What legacy will I leave?” The impact of our living goes a way beyond our lifetime.

I have used this in my blog before. I found it in a visit to a “museum” on the outskirts of Cardiff. I loved the museum and this poem.

A Meeting Place

I am singular

My time is now,

And I am here,

But I am not alone.

At my back I hear

the ticking of the past,

the faint breathing of many generations

Of my ancestors;

And all about me

Is the family of man.

Here I see what makes the

fundamental me,

A roof above me, bed, and work

Daily bread, and water,

Here I see my words

Here the beliefs that sustain me.

I ponder here the meaning of me...

I ponder here the meaning of “we”..

And what is my humanity...

In this hall is where

I’ll see clues to my identity.

“I contain multitudes”

Written by Gwyn Thomas (Welsh National Poet)

Placed near the entrance to exhibits in the St Fagans National History Museum in Cardiff.