As part of the October World Race team, I was given a blogging assignment based on the “This I believe” essays.
I was challenged to write an essay of my own. I think what I ended up
with was worth posting here. Plus I need a little help kick-starting
this whole blogging business.
I believe in dirt. I remember as a child my mother tenderly
bathing me and laughing at all of the grime that would wash off of my little
body. “You could grow a garden with all of this dirt� she would say while
looking in my ears or scrubbing my scalp with tear-free shampoo. That statement
always made me smile. I dreaded those baths but I loved watching the dirt go
down the drain. The way the small granules would swirl around in a circle and
pass through the grate ensured me that I was done with bathing for at least
another twenty four hours and that I passed my mother’s cleanliness inspection.
But I preferred to be dirty.
Dirt reminds me of who I am and where I come from. I grew up
on a farm and my grandfather was famous for his garden. Out of the earth he
could grow the most delectable things. I much preferred an evening spent
plucking the treats from his apple trees to any dessert in a restaurant. He
would grow a special spot of watermelons every summer just for me and I would
turn up my nose at any corn other than his. His hands were stained with the red
clay of North Carolina
and his fingernails were always short and dark around the edges from the soil.
He would till his plot for gardening and I can remember the smells and feeling
of the fertile ground that would produce treasures to share with our neighbors
and friends. It was a dirty job but it was magic to me. He welcomed me to learn
from him and help him plant, weed, harvest and water. No job was a clean job
and I knew that I would need a bath after helping my granddaddy but it was
worth it.
Dirt reminds me that we’re all the
same. My grandfather showed me that bein
g dirty is a part of life and I shouldn’t be afraid of a job
that I have to roll up my sleeves to do. Dirt is not a mark of shame. It is a
sign of a hard day’s work and not something to be looked down on. I believe
that dirt unites us because there is no escaping it. It is in every city and
town in some form and no matter how hard you try to rid your house or your body
of it there will always be some there. I believe that instead of trying to
figure out a way to make my life more sterile and clean I should embrace the
messiness and enjoy the process.
