Inheritance

July 16th, 2025

“Yet it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.” – Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings

It’s 4:12 AM. I just looked outside. A half-moon sits high above us and casts a pale light on the backyard. The morning star hangs in the eastern sky like a bright jewel. The birds are starting wake up. Otherwise, it all quiet both inside the house and out.

Our little grandson, Asher, is asleep. He likes to lie crosswise in the bed. It is amazing to me how much room a four-year-old can take up. Asher is a restless sleeper. He rolls and moans and sometimes reaches out to me at night. One reason I got up so early was that the boy left me no room in the bed.

The other reason for starting my day while it still dark is that I keep thinking about what kind of world Asher, and our other three grandchildren, will inherit. The future does not look promising. Climate change, mass extinctions, xenophobia, endless wars, and the rise of authoritarianism in our country and around the world make me pessimistic. Asher may grow up and curse me and my generation. He would be right to do so. Asher has already faced intense trauma in his young life. He will grow up and have to contend with enormous challenges, but then perhaps every new generation has to do that.

What can I do for this boy? I’m not sure. Before Asher came into our lives, I was busy as an activist. I taught a citizenship class. I advocated for migrants. I visited veterans in the psych ward of the local VA hospital. I was arrested once at an anti-war demonstration. My wife and I delivered household items during the pandemic to people who could not get to a food pantry. I tried to “uproot the evil in the fields that we know”. I did that in clumsy, ignorant way, but I tried.

(I had to stop writing for a bit. Asher stirred and cried in bed, and I needed to lie next to him until he calmed down again. I will start again with this essay).

Now, I do none of that sort of thing. Asher has become my life. Raising him consumes my time and energy. I feed him. I dress him. I take him to a park or playground nearly every day. We go to libraries together. Sometimes, I read books to him. I dry his tears. My world has grown smaller and far more focused.

In the fall Asher will start kindergarten. He will go to a local Waldorf school. Why there? Because at this school he will be treated with respect. He will learn reverence for nature. He will be exposed to music and art. He will learn to use his hands as well as his head. He will make friends. He will be loved.

Each day I try to do what I can to give Asher and our other grandkids a fighting chance in their brave new world. I don’t understand this world, at least not well enough. I can only do so much. I can’t save Asher from suffering. I can’t protect him from his future.

“What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.”