My Take Tuesday: Forget Me Not

There is a flower that grows in the beautiful mountains of Alaska. It is a tiny plant that is easily overlooked, it’s small and unassuming stature is easily lost as the surrounding vegetation is observed. However, on closer look, this flower is a remarkable example of nature’s masterpiece. 

The dark green stems and leaves are much like those of other plants, but its flowers are what make this flower unforgettable. The sky-blue pedals perfectly match the beauty of a clear, cloudless day. The tiny flower displays a most unique and unforgettable beauty. It is a true marvel of creation and is aptly named, “Forget Me Not.” 

A couple of years ago, I visited a massive cemetery. I walked quietly along the long never-ending rows of marble headstones. Many were from the 18th and 19th century. Moss was visible along the base of many of the markers. Names and dates, weathered and worn, were fading on many of them. 

As I looked around, the headstones numbered in the thousands. Who were these people? What were they like? What is their story? Only a handful are remembered, and unfortunately, most are largely forgotten. 

I pondered as I read the inscriptions. I questioned, “Is this what is to come of me? When I go the way of all living things, will I be remembered? Will I leave a legacy?” 

My mind turned to the small cemetery in the town where I was raised. Castle Dale, Utah is a small place, one easily overlooked by most. The cemetery is located on the north end of Center Street. I spent a summer during high school working as a caretaker there. Each week, I would mow the lawn. Care was taken as the grass was trimmed around each and every headstone. 

Many of my ancestors are buried in the cemetery in Castle Dale. My great great grandmother, my great grandparents, grandparents, a beloved uncle and an infant cousin all rest in this special place. 

My great grandfather passed away long before I was born. I have a picture of him smiling and sitting on the grass in a pair of bib overalls. He is aged and tired, but his character is still evident in the old photograph. It reminds me of a wise observation that Thomas Edison made concisely by stating, “I have friends in overalls whose friendship I would not swap for the favor of all of the kings of the world.” 

My grandfather died when I was only three years old. My memories of him are largely limited to what others have told me. He served as county clerk for over two decades. Like his father, he was a dry land farmer. He worked tirelessly to provide for his six children. The ground he and his father tilled and planted year after year, still remains in the family today. 

My uncle passed away in 2016. I owe my very life to my uncle Jerry. Once, as a curious 5-year-old, I was standing in the doorway to his kitchen. Jerry had a bag of those pink chalky wintergreen disc candies. I placed one in my mouth, and somehow got it lodged inside my trachea. He must have sensed my panic, but he calmly walked over and gave a firm push on my stomach and the piece of candy shot across the room. If you are lucky enough to know my uncle Jerry Bott, then you have the privilege of knowing the best person I have ever met. There is no better example of loyalty, charity and love than he was. 

All three of their graves are located next to each other in the south side of the middle section. Each lived wonderful lives. Each treated their fellow men in kind with an honest word, a helping hand and a smile. With the years and the long hard miles, each always did their best. When the storms of life broke loose, each valiantly fought with courage. 

As long as my heart beats, each will never be forgotten. 

They inspire me still. Their legacy invites me to be a better father, a better friend, and a better man.

Like the small unassuming Forget Me Not flower, each of us, no matter how small or inconspicuous we are, have an important part to contribute to the tapestry of our posterity and the majesty of creation and life. 

And that is my take.

N. Isaac Bott, DVM