It's a long ways from this place on the prairies of south central Kansas back to the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. It's 611 miles of a "long ways" and even though it took us nearly 11 1/2 hours to get here just the day before yesterday, I'm thankful that we came. It's always a good thing when you can come back to the place of your birth, a place that has provided such special memories in time. I love this town called "Haven" and to the very last breath I take, if someone asks me where I am from, the answer shall always be the same.
"Haven, Kansas"
It is soon time to go and in just an hour or so we will head south towards southwestern Oklahoma and the northwestern part of Texas to stay for the next couple of days. We have a few more things to do and places to see before heading back to the mountains by Sunday evening. I'm sure we will both be tired by the time we roll into the driveway at home the day after tomorrow but we will make it. I wish we had been able to have more time here but summer is coming and I'm sure that we will return again. It's not like we live in Rhode Island or something.
There is a beautiful cemetery nearby in Haven and one of the things on my "list of 60 things to do before I turn 60 this year", item #30, was to go there and walk amongst the graves of the dear friends that I knew from the days of my youth. I do that kind of thing nearly every time I come here for a visit but this time the few hours that we had went too quickly and I was not able to get to Laurel Cemetery as I had wanted to. I felt bad about that because I really do appreciate every chance I can get to go there. I was afraid that it would take another visit back to this part of Kansas later on this summer to get that one taken care of.
But this morning as I have stopped to think about it, maybe I had the wrong idea of what to do. Perhaps there was another way that I could honor the dead that have gone on before me, to remember them in a different and very special way. And you know what? I believe I did just that by spending these last few hours here amongst Haven friends and family that are still living.
The graves at Laurel Cemetery, a quiet and pastoral place located between Haven and Yoder, Kansas, are filled with people who had the heart to call this tiny little town their "home". Some lived here only a part of their lives while others never left in the first place. My first dentist, Doc Voth, is there as well as Ida Epperley, a dear and kind woman who was the high school secretary for about a hundred years. Henry Fisher and Sergio Albert are there too, both of those young men were casualties of the Vietnam War. They were "killed in action" within two weeks of one another back in 1967 when I was only 12 years old. I've always made it a point to visit their graves any time I have come here. Cleo Weve and Anna Talbot are there too. Both of those women were instrumental in my parents' restaurant business on the highway just a few blocks away from where we have been staying. I lived here for such a long period of my life that I would dare to say that I know of nearly everyone whose final "address" for their mortal remains is out at Laurel. An entire community of departed friends and loved ones can be found there. I never feel sad when I visit that little cemetery in the country. I only feel a sense of deep gratitude for the profound influence each of them had upon the life of a young and quiet girl named Peggy Ann.
The town of Haven has changed somewhat in the years that followed my departure from it. I no longer know every single soul in town but am always thankful when I'm here that I know at least a few. Even though I didn't get the chance to visit the cemetery, I did get the chance to go down the city streets and remember those good people who played such an important part of my growing up life.
God richly blessed me by allowing me to grow up here and to be a resident of this place from 1964 until I left in 1982. I won't be forgetting that "gift" either and in the days that lie ahead, I hope to return and visit many times more.
I didn't get to the cemetery but in retrospect I guess I did the next best thing. I honored the dead by walking amongst the living.
My father, John Scott Jr., standing in front of our parents' restaurant along the old highway on the outskirts of Haven. My folks found some of their very best years to be spent in that wonderful little town in Kansas.
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