Although it might not seem so on its surface, one quality of being retired is the ability to adapt to the unexpected circumstances. Not having to adhere to any strict required or self-imposed work schedule, we can pivot, albeit somewhat shakily, as needed to any situation. This capability paid dividends this week as any routine was destroyed due to an ACL injury our beloved dog suffered. Her incapacity required me to devote my days to monitoring her. But being forced to be somewhat sedentary also allowed me to witness the pomp and ceremony justifiably attendant to the passing of Queen Elizabeth II.
She was a person of great presence for over 75 years. She was an eloquent person befitting a queen. She was class personified. It was said that she planned her funeral ceremonies down to the smallest detail. It showed. With her passing, I was reminded of a poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He wrote the poem not long after the death of his first wife. Longfellow said, “I kept it some time in manuscript, unwilling to show it to anyone, at a time when I was rallying from depression.”
A Psalm of Life is, in my view, a fitting tribute to Queen Elizabeth. It is A Psalm of her Life and a footprint to guide us along our life’s way.
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!—
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Finds us further than today.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe’ver pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!
Lives of the great all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.
Have an AWE-full Weekend!
William “Bill” Bacque