In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.
Houses live and die: there is a time for building
And a time for living and for generation
And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane
And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.
    In my beginning is my end.

East Coker by T. S. Eliot

I returned to my hometown.  A good friend, someone I grew up with in the neighborhood was in hospice. I wanted to have a conversation with him, our final conversation.  Vern decided he had endured enough measures to remedy a condition that had caused many months of suffering, having received word from the doctors that no light appeared at the end of that tunnel.

There are many ways to leave this world. Often circumstances do not afford time for reflection, for a choice of any kind.  Many forms of exit are unpleasant in the extreme.  I think that to be able to decide to depart this life, somewhat at leisure, in the care of a hospice approaches a classic ideal.  I recall that Socrates left in a similar manner at advanced age, surrounded by good friends, conversing, bidding all farewell, leaving with dignity, self-composure.

Here are several photos I captured when visiting my hometown, Durham, North Carolina.  The history of Durham, even up to the lifetimes of my parents was, is involved with the growing of tobacco, and the production of cigarettes at two tobacco companies, Liggett & Myres Tobacco Company and The American Tobacco company.  Both of my parents were employed, mom worked for Liggett & Myres and dad for The American Tobacco Company, and these were well paying blue collar jobs in that day.  The photo is of the large sign which always stood on the roof of the factory where my mother worked until she retired.  The old factory is now repurposed into condos I believe.

The additional two photos capture the presence of Duke University, a community representing the other pole of the town.  Duke, now an international center of medicine, was founded by Methodists and Quakers in 1838, and moved to Durham in 1892.  The Duke family, tobacco magnates, originally funded the university.  “Duke” is the namesake for Washington Duke and is now one of the largest research universities in the United States.  The additional images depict the revivifying power of education.  The colorful depiction of the deep sea octopus celebrates life forms that are hidden from casual observation.  The slogan, painted, scaled up on the wall is a reflection upon life, words open-ended defying resolution.

We six, formed a circle of conversation in Vern’s room.  Three of us, Vern, John and I, grew up together in the same neighborhood. We played together, then attended the same high school.  We spent hours and days exploring, having adventures in the woods.  We remembered building a wooden go-kart with a reclaimed lawn mower motor. Tales were told of part-time jobs driving a school bus, working as a bicycle mechanic at Addison’s Playworld Toy Store, good sweet memories, experiences which made us the three adults we became.  Now in our mid seventies we were together again in that room with our wives.  I felt a shared sense of gratitude.  We had come far.  And now acceptance, the time had come to bid farewell to one of us.

The excerpt from T. S. Eliot’s poem highlights the role which building structures play in our memories and just how temporary they prove to be.

Indeed, it is only later, much later in one’s life that one recognizes that the end has been there all along. Everything is change, is changing, – the end is inscribed in the beginning.