Bill greeted me with a pear. I had come to turn one of our occasional chats at his farm into a bench-sitting, and the bench on his back porch was littered with the fruit he had just picked. So he offered me one.
More than that, he handed me the picker and said, “You’re tall. You should be able to reach the ones I couldn’t. Make yourself useful.” So for the first time in my life, I was plucking Bartlett pears off of branches and dodging the ones that volunteered to try to bean me.
Bill looks every bit the part of a Pennsylvania farmer. And so he was, growing up – that is, before he became the head of the Education department at Bucknell University, across town, as well as a nationally respected consultant. Farmer and professor: it’s as incongruous a combination as the peacock that roosts in one of his trees.
At 87, he’s still mentally sharp and active. As we sat down, I directed our conversation with a simple question: “To what do you attribute your long life?” Knowing Bill, I knew he’d answer me with stories. As with all of us, memories gather with the passing years like pigeons on a silo.
He answered simply: “My work ethic.” Then, closing his eyes – as he often does when remembering – he explained.
As a nine-year-old farm boy, he was milking cows two days a week, barely strong enough to carry the buckets of steaming milk back across the snowy field from the barn. And at age twelve, he was mowing fields of hay with a team of horses. His mother and he would haul it into the barn with hay forks. “I was exhausted beyond words,” he said. “But then she would get me a glass of cold buttermilk and we’d chat a while. And then she’d say – and I’ve never forgotten this – ‘Do you suppose, Bill, we could get one more load of hay in the barn?’”
Just one more load. That became a life motto for him. Just focus on doing one more thing. Then before you know it, you’ve done much more than you expected.
It’s an ethic that drives me, as well. I try to push the boundaries of what I can do. Go a little farther than expected. Give myself an extra challenge – whether that’s trying out pastel on foam core boards or adding one more event to an already full month.
But when is “one more load” one too many? Lately, I’ve been thinking more about the mixture of work and life, even turning down a few gigs to spend more time at home. It’s a question Bill has thought much about over his life as well. I shared with him some of my struggle with this. And he listened and answered with the insight and affection I appreciate so much in him.
It’s hard to get the balanced answer to life’s big questions -- without the wisdom of family and friends. And as Bill has taught me, those friendships are sweet.
As sweet as a hand-picked pear.
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