A remarkable legacy

Snow fell unawares Friday while I edited my memoir cookbook. Engrossed in this long-term project, I at last turned to the window to rest my eyes and mind.

Oh, my goodness! The stealth and beauty of Michigan’s winter wonderland took my breath away!

On the other hand, considering the night’s weather forecast of “melt and freeze”, I knew to plow the driveway before nightfall. For I needed to leave the house the following morning by 9:15 to attend a funeral.

Therefore, I left my desk at 4:30 p.m., pulled on my snowplowing clothes, and gave John Deere’s blade a good workout with at least four inches of slippery, heavy snow.

Midway the driveway, I dismounted the tractor, retrieved my garden shovel from the garage, and removed a mound of soggy snow. After a sedentary day, the exercise invigorated my body, mind, and spirit.

All the while plowing, shoveling, and deicing the driveway and garage approach, I considered the death and loss of another Baby Boomer.

A good friend.

Mind, in many ways, Jim Benefield bore the characteristics of America’s average young man during the turbulent times of the Vietnam War.

For instance, he paid his way through college working in construction whenever and wherever possible. Two years his junior, Jim encouraged me to submit my application to Central Michigan University where he attended.

“It’s not far from home. You’ll like the campus, and you’re a cheerleader, so try out for CMU’s squad. Their Homecoming is fabulous.”

Unlike Jim, I didn’t have a car or experience for employment opportunities that provided a wage to pay college expenses.

Ever the encourager in the midst of my parents’ divorce, Jim said, “Apply for a loan. And you’ll find work on campus. I’ll give you a ride home and back to school for a buck.”

Whenever our schedules jived, Jim’s advice worked. He kept his word and drove me to CMU and home in his VW with no heater.

Then, one day he drove me to his new apartment. He pointed to a photo on his desk, a pretty blonde in a yellow bikini. “That’s Alice, my girlfriend. What do you think?”

“Beautiful. I like her smile.”

Sometime later, CMU’s football team traveled to Hillsdale College. The sponsor of my cheerleading squad drove us to Hillsdale’s field to cheer.

Meanwhile, Melvin Underwood, a student in CMU’s Master’s business program, drove his 1964 Mustang to Hillsdale on that beautiful fall day to watch the game.

Dear Reader, today God blessed me with a few minutes alone with Alice, reminiscing Jim’s influence within my family, and his photo of her in the yellow bikini.

She smiled and shook her head. “At times I was a little jealous of you and your sisters. Jim talked about you all the time.”

Throughout Jim’s memorial service, and during lunch, a spontaneous reunion of several graduates from Warren Lincoln High school, I realized something significant.

I may have never met my late husband if Jim Benefield had not guided me to Central Michigan University.

A remarkable legacy.

Contact Iris at irisfarmletters@gmail.com