Genesis 1:21, “…every winged fowl after his kind: and God saw that [it was] good.”
Old Harry passed away last week. Harry was a 94 year old veteran of World War II. He served in an Airborne unit. They were known as paratroopers in those days. He was part of the assault on D-Day and jumped into enemy territory with his buddies. Only Harry and couple others from his entire unit survived to return home. He once told me how he saw many of his buddies shot from the sky as they floated down in their parachutes. Others were quickly surrounded by the enemy and died where they landed. Harry managed to escape.
After the war Harry returned to his home in Chicago, married and took a job in one of the factories near his home. He worked at that job for almost thirty years until the plant closed and then he went into an early retirement on a small pension. His wife passed away about twenty years ago. He had no children and no family that I know of. He pretty well kept to himself. He lived in an apartment building where he made a little deal with the owner to do minor maintenance work and upkeep in return for a discount on his rent. He never spoke of any friends other than those at the VFW. He was always bemoaning the fact that this new generation had fewer veterans and those who did live in the area seemed to have little interest in keeping the VFW going. Living to be 94 he saw many of his friends from the VFW pass away.
Thus Old Harry remained pretty reclusive except for his bi-weekly trip on my disability bus. Harry had only a small pension on which to live, but he was generous with the VFW and with another group. He would board my bus twice every month, once after he received his social security check and again after his small pension check came in. He would board my bus wearing his jacket proudly displaying patches showing he was a veteran of World War II and served as an army paratrooper. He would fill me with stories of his old army buddies who never came home from the war. They had common names, like George, Sam, Bert, etc. I would drive Old Harry to the local feed store in Summit where the clerk would come out with two twenty pound bags of seeds and nuts. I would then drive Old Harry to the grocery store where he would pick up a two weeks supply of groceries for himself and then I would drive him home and help carry his purchases into his apartment. Harry always had an envelope with some money in it to tip me. He would drop it on the stairwell and act like he knew nothing about it as I picked it up. I explained we were not allowed to receive tips but he would claim to know nothing about it and that I should just keep the envelop. So I finally told him I would never take a tip from a veteran and that seemed to satisfy him as he took the envelop back. That was one rule he would not violate.
One day as I carried his packages into his apartment he showed me the platform he built on his porch. He had trays filled with seeds and a little bird bath. He also had a tray filled with nuts. There was a flock of birds on this platform feeding, as well as a couple squirrels helping themselves to some nuts. He explained that the squirrels used to get to the seeds before the birds so he gave them a separate plate filled with nuts which seemed to be working out well. I noticed that he kept his porch clean of any of the defilements that his flying friends were prone to leave behind.
He introduced me to his feathered friends and called them by name, George, Sam, Bert, etc. I realized he named them after his fallen buddies. Perhaps he associated the birds flying through the air with his buddies floating to the ground in their parachutes. I think he was feeding these birds as a way to memorialize his fallen friends.
I spoke with other tenants of the building and they did not seem very fond of Old Harry or his friends. They felt he was just a crazy old man feeding and talking to these creatures that were nothing but a nuisance around the building. They did not like the idea of so many birds and small animals hanging around as if they were some sort of riff raft begging for handouts.
After Old Harry’s passing last week I drove by his apartment. I suppose the other tenants were not too sad over Harry’s passing. I wondered if anyone came to his funeral or if he even had a funeral. I suppose the VFW did hold some sort of service for Harry after which they just went about their business having performed their duty. I looked up at Harry’s apartment and there was that usual flock of birds and little animals gathered around, I suppose looking for their food which was no longer being provided. I wondered why they were there and then I had a thought, perhaps they were keeping a vigil for their old benefactor who has now gone to be with their namesakes. With that thought, I realized that at least Harry did not die friendless.
God created the birds of the air and saw that they were good. I wish some Bible translator would use a different word than good. What does that mean anyways? In the Hebrew the word is tov which in its Semitic root has the idea of being in harmony or in tune. God created the birds of the air and saw that they were in tune or in harmony with Him. All of God’s creation is in harmony with Him. We can see his beauty in its many colors and designs. We can see His love in the nurturing care of his creation for their young. We can see the complexity and the infinite variety of his creative thoughts in even a small insect. Where Harry’s neighbors saw only a nuisance with all the creation of God that he attracted, I like to believe Harry saw something else. It is something that we need to pause to try and see when that little bird lands on our porch and starts to sing and dance. We need to pause and consider that he is just a little gift from the God we love to draw out attention to Him.
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