Father Remembered

We are midway between two dates related to my father. One-hundred-one years ago, he was born, August 7, 1907, in the midst of the Osage Nation, in what was known as Indian Territory, soon to become a part of the new state of Oklahoma. Ten years ago, at the age of 91, he died, August 21, 1998, here in Columbus, Ohio.

I remember these simple facts each year. In part, to gentle myself. In part, to give honor and express gratitude for his life.

He accomplished much throughout his life. The Encyclopedia of Cleveland History has this entry regarding him:

SPARLIN, ESTAL EARNEST (7 Aug. 1907 - 21 Aug. 1998) was the director of the CITIZENS LEAGUE OF GREATER CLEVELAND and a lifelong advocate for good government. He was born in Osage County, Indian territory, in Oklahoma to "Burthie" (Ryan) and Oscar Sparlin and graduated from Ponca City High School. Sparlin worked as a paperboy and linotype operator at the Ponca City News. From 1928-1935 he worked at the Columbia Tribune while he attended University of Missouri, where he received his bachelors and master's degrees. He received a doctorate in political science there in 1936. Following his graduation, Sparlin taught at the University of Missouri and at the University of Arkansas. He also worked for the Arkansas government and as a legislative analyst for the Missouri General Assembly. Prior to coming to Cleveland, Sparlin was the assistant director of the Governmental Research Institute in St. Louis. In 1953 he became the director of the Governmental Research Institute and Citizens League in Cleveland. He retired in 1975 but was named acting director of the CLEVELAND COMMISSION ON HIGHER EDUCATION that year and continued attending public meetings at City Hall until the mid-1980s to serve as a watchdog on behalf of his fellow citizens.

As leader of the non-partisan Citizens League, Sparlin researched the credentials of candidates for public office, then published the league's views of their qualifications to assist voters. He also provided explanations for voters of the intricacies of tax levies and bond issues. Sparlin fought for the reduction of Cleveland's wards from 33 to 21, helped prevent the expansion of the Port Authority Board to more than nine members, and assisted in gaining approval for Sunday liquor sales to enhance convention business and produce additional revenue. In 1978 he was named citizen of the year by the CLEVELAND AREA BOARD OF REALTORS for his role in the adoption of Ohio's ethics law, for bringing voting machines to Cuyahoga County, and for doubling the Citizens League's membership. In addition to his duties at the Citizens League, Sparlin was an active member of the City Club and Rotary.

Sparlin married Harriet (Tripp) in 1928 in Ponca City, Oklahoma and together they had five children: Denise (Gilgen), David, Derry, Dale, and Dan. Sparlin passed away at the Mayfair Village nursing home in Columbus and his ashes were scattered in Osage County, OK.

I accompanied him during the last three-and-a-half years of his life, when he lived near me at Mayfair Village. Throughout that period, I shared time with him virtually every day, with the exception of brief periods when I was away for trips or conferences.

I was with him throughout the night before he died just before dawn, the morning of August 21, as he took his final breath, and as his spirit hovered at the head of the bed for a period. So there is much to remember.

You can surmise from my previous entry on spirit and breath, how deeply meaningful those moments were for me, that final ruach. There is something to add, though, and that is to remind us all that what we call the final breath is nothing we can know in the moment, much less ahead of time. For it is not until the following moment, the moment of the next breath, the breath that does not come, when we learn of the finality of the previous breath.

There was a gathering a few days later at a rickety, rusty, abandoned bridge across Salt Creek, where it flows around Fairfax, Oklahoma, near where my father was born. He grew up playing in this creek. And so it was here that my daughter Sharon and brother David, and many of his family, gathered to cast Dad's ashes into the waters.

On that hot, humid day, much of the fine dust hovered in clouds in the summer air, gathering on the cottonwood leaves overhanging the creek, to be washed into the waters when the next rain came. Some will have been absorbed by the leaves, to await the moment when the leaves fell to the waters below, canoeing their way along the creek's surface for a period. Some will have sunk gently to the bottom of the creek to join the sand and rocks, lurking there still to this day. Some will have been taken in as life-sustaining drink by fish and turtles, raccoons and coyotes. Some will have flowed with Salt Creek as it wended its way to the Ar-kan-sas River, to the Mississippi and into the Gulf of Mexico, joining the continuous, labyrinthine currents of the great waters of Earth.

Alas, these are memories. And, like many others, they evaporate out of the vast oceans of memories, ascending into the skies, gathering in ever-increasing droplets, falling to Earth as rain, once again offering refreshment and sustenance before moving on in the ever-renewing cycle of memories.

So it is that in these days each year I remember the birth and death of my father, giving him the honor due his name, and singing a song of gratitude for his life, and for all the life he engendered. Aho.