Ben, Haiti, and all... we will never forget

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On this 12 January 2014 in Decorah Iowa, it was freezing cold. The wind that blew into our faces left no escaping route. Even though the cold was so present in our minds, we were all determined to share in this day of remembrance and celebration of life. We wanted to shout out to those who departed in the Haiti earthquake. We needed them to know: Haiti 12 January 2010 - We remember. As we started singing in this cemetery filled of woods, I could not resist my tears. And very strangely, in the middle of my burst, "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" of Robert Frost came floating upon my soul:

"Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow".

Like the woods it describes, the poem is lovely but entices us with dark depths—of interpretation, in this case. It stands alone and beautiful, the account of a man (or a woman) stopping by woods on a snowy evening, but gives us a come-hither look that begs us to load it with a full inventory of possible meanings. We protest, we make apologies, we point to the dangers of reading poetry in this way, but unlike the speaker of the poem, we cannot resist. We are still searching for meanings…

Robert Frost in “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” speaks of eternity and responsibility with such elegance that it often left me in tears. The last stanza summed up well the day of remembrance for Benjamin Larson and his Haitian brothers and sisters that died on this January day:

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep".



Ben, your legacy is deep and still touches many. We have also promises to keep and miles to go before we meet again.

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