Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1913-12-25
AIRING
T WAYS
and the question comes up with spontaniety,

ana the question comes up with spontanfety,
What of all this to me-"
In a country SO new as ours where ones great
grandfather about the earliest record.
time does not impress It seems if every
thing began yesterday. In old lands whose his
tory goes back centuries upon centuries the prog
ress of time seems very impressive.
But say what will it is our own life that is
the most impressive, and as the years stretch out
behind US the memory OF our own youth makes a
deeper impression on US this New Years day than
all the written history of the world than all the
traditions Of all the races. than all the records CT
the rocks. The individual souls days like this
naturally divide into two classes On New Years
day youth looks to the future and age to the past
To the young all the paths before the feet look
rose-strewn and smooth. So be it. Let the eye
brighten it feasts in anticipation on the good
things that must lie everywhere to the end Youth
Youth. The time when there can be mo doubt Of
any mystery save that lfes longings and its
hopes could die" Let youth dream on of roses
without thorns, of bright days without a cloud,
of hopes that always find fulfllment, Of ambitions
always fully satisfied. All we need do for youth is
leave it alone with its dreams, its hopes. its am
billions. With these it viii take of itself And
let not age, whatever the years may have brought,
say word, shake head or give dubious look
to dspel the glory Of the dream, the brightness
of the hope the vaultng nature Of the ambition.
Time will do enough of this. So let youth have its
undmmed joy today.
But age looks back Inc nreS OF ambition are
dimmed. They all burnt-out ashes The
hopes that buoyed us up so safely in youth have
found what there is of fu1llment all too little of
disappointment all too much. We dream longer
of joys to come but of grief that has strewed
the path along which we have come. The smell
of the woods in early spring when the first violets
bloom, in the heat of summer when all is like
the spice Islands, in fall when decay is in the
fallen leaves, or in winter when death absorbs
all, no matter to the aged, all call back to days
long gone We walk alone now, and all along the
far road lie mounds where we stood and confided
to the breast of Mother Earth so many that walk
ed with US in the heydey of life. The mother
whose soft touch banished pain, the father whose
ripe experience taught where to walk the
brothers and sisters who were our playmates in
those days when the world was all sunshine.
Then when the wing of love ceased to brood over
in the paternal nest and went forth to
create new family under the banner of love, how
day like this calls up all the JOY and tenderness
of these days of early manhood and womanhood!
So we dream of the lOng-lost clasp of the hand of
lover or friend; dwell in tender memory
on all those days of hope, of joy, of expectancy
and fruition. We feel that all will soon be over.
This may be our last New Years day on this earth
where have passed many eventful years.
When those who left again ring out the old
ring in the new may not be here to ring
either chime of bells. So we sit and dream and
call up from the treasnre-nouse of memory the
US in the days of our youth and of our prime But
we would not be gone vet. He is less than man
who thus sit and dream, think of his de-
parture, and not east longing, lingering look
behind. We must go to the poets to interpret
this life to Not to the great ones Of the world
but to those whose verse deals with the common
things of life: to Burns and his banks and braes
bonnie Doom his Highland Mary to the
who wrote Home, Sweet Home;" to the poet of
the poor slave in the south and his 'Suwanee
River" We can go far back in the ages and all
the time the common heart of common humanity
was the same now. King David would take
the aged Barzillai to the capital to the court
But the plain man Of the people would be left
alone to dream the last dreams of life in peace.
Let me go back that may die in mine own city"
And after death be buried by the side of nv IA
Their and of my mother" OH the tenderness OF
old age! There are no fierce passions left Am
bltlon builds no more castles in the air. Just to
be let dream of the days that gone, of the
early home and all it contained and then lie down
with the companions of youth and for centuries
and centuries, throughout the great eternity let
our ashes mingle with those we loved so we'll