My old friend Harold Aardema used to talk about Beloit, Iowa, a tiny burg right on the Big Sioux River, where once upon a time there stood an orphanage for kids, some of whom died there, he said, and we're buried in a small local cemetery. Occasionally, on a trip to Sioux Falls, we'd pass that way just to see the most beautiful land in the whole of northwest Iowa, the gentle hills along the river.
Then, a student told me about the place, reminded me of the stories Aardema used to tell, the hills where an immigrant family set down roots. One of the kids, a bachelor gardener, tended Sioux Center's flower beds as assiduously as he did the scholars at Sioux Center Christian School, a man, a stern principal named only A. J. Boersma.
I have a xerox copy of his life story I still would like to publish someday, even though its potential for sales is, sadly, even lower than a book of mine I'd like to publish. It's a grand story of rags-to-riches, Dutch Reformed style. I don't know that he ever made a million, but that doesn't mean he wasn't, in his own special way, fabulously wealthy.
Anyway, I thought I'd go out and find that cemetery, and I did. But more than that, I found myself in the middle of caramel omniscience, gently breaking morning skies in a light fog that could not have been more tastefully drawn.
So, here's the catch I made the Saturday morning, one day in early June when I hit things just right.
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14 years later and the pictures still tell a beautiful story. Thank you
ReplyDeleteThank you. It was one of Iowa's gorgeous summer mornings. I'm priviliged to have been there.
DeleteMr. Boersma taught me a significant quantity of eclogy and stewardship before I walked through the front door of Dordt.
ReplyDeleteI'm not fibbing. His life was immensely memorable.
DeleteThose are some amazing pictures!
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