The Last Bonfire

Long ago the Colbert Clan lived on Colbert Island off the coast of Scotland. The island was small and they lived alone. The family produced everything it needed on its four-acre garden and caught food from the sea. The only reasons the Colberts went to the mainland was to trade for the occasional needed tool, salt, sugar, and husbands and wives when the lasses and lads came of age.

At this time the clan consisted of six generations. Old Ian, over a hundred years old, boasted having bred four great-great-great grandsons. Few on any island could better the boast or the fact. Each member of the extended family had his own job, but rules were not so strict that when help was needed they didn't trade tasks now and again. Most jobs were usually done by that person who was best at it or wanted to do it more than another, young or old.

Now Robby, youngest of the clan, liked to haul driftwood for his ancient great-great-great grandfather's fire. He also helped with the never-ending job of picking stones from the garden and the fields where the men gathered the hay for the goats that gave them milk, cheese, and skins.

Old Ian helped kick aside the surface stones as he hobbled through the garden commenting on the many generations that had gained its very life from the vegetables, especially the potatoes. The ancient man was living

testimony to the powerful rejuvenating force of the garden, for people as isolated as they were needed occasional boosts to strengthen their psychology, and every time they planted there was the promise of new growth, just as at every harvest there was fulfillment. The garden was the very heart of the clan.

The sea, of course, provided both adventure and food. Many Colbert lads had tested their mettle by rowing against the battering surf while a fair lass and younger boy watched respectfully with admiring eyes. And it, like the garden, gave both food and the necessary psychology, for as long as the waves kept rolling, all Colberts knew that endless freedom spread in front of them, freedom that led to the sky and what soared above it, the Heaven filled with the many generations of long-departed Colbert souls.

Robby Colbert learned the way of the sea and power of the togetherness of relatives and the long-held promise of meeting them again in divine reunion. So he helped his great-great-great grandfather when he could by collecting driftwood providentially scattered along the rocky coast and hauling it so the old man could tend his fire. When the patriarch died, Robby felt a great loss, for a deep, strong bond had developed between the alpha and omega. The feeling was temporary, however, because the boy was reminded of the great freedom his kin now experienced and the joy that awaited the entire clan when their time came. Robby simply shifted his attention to the next oldest relative.

As young Rob Colbert grew into a strapping lad, he found picking rocks from his garden more exciting now that his arms had strengthened and he could skip them into the tumbling waves. Once, when the sea was as calm and flat as a mirror, Rob spent the entire day flipping flat stones one after the other further than he ever had when the surf roared and crashed. And now strong, the lad found lugging driftwood to his great grandfather a joy

because it gave him exercise.

Young Rob felt as much joy from digging potatoes as he did seeing them steaming on the supper table. Now, when the oldest of the clan passed away, Rob didn't feel as bad as when ancient Ian had, for the boy owned the family belief of an eternal afterlife spent with his ancestors. Like the entire Colbert Clan, Rob was not devastated when the old man passed.

In time, Rob grew into a fine young man. The time had come for him to accompany the family to the surrounding islands to trade and find a woman worthy to produce progeny to carry on the Colbert name. The trip was successful in all respects until the sea rose and pitched so high the ocean troughs looked like the mouths of monsters. One cavern swallowed the boat and all its occupants.

Once back on Colbert Island, a group funeral was held, for several older family members had drowned as well as the young man's new bride. The funeral proved to be a singular moment for the group and especially for Rob, for never had more than one passed at a time. Now the grief and rejoicing were multiplied many-fold. The celebration also marked the end of the Colbert line, for Rob decided that from that day forward he would never marry again. He knew that with him the Colbert Clan would end. He felt it was meant to be, so from that moment he planned to celebrate each passing day more joyously than his ancestors ever had.

Rob Colbert was not obsessed with death any more than the hundreds of island-dwellers before him. His mind was set on the great reunion in Heaven with all his predecessors; he saw death as the only way to get to the grand party above. Because many generations had rejoiced in the passing of one of its members, now Rob looked forward to his own as much as those of his relatives.

The next person who died was his grandfather. The clan had lived so

closely that he was like his own father, even an old brother. Rob missed him because it meant one less body on the island, but he followed through with his plan to make each funeral celebration more grand than the one before. So this time Rob hauled driftwood from the craggy rock shore for two days. He made a bonfire so enormous that boats from the neighboring islands came to inspect. Potato soup was drunk by all from the earthen cups the Colberts had learned to make long before. The garden had flourished and it fed the celebrants well. Rob's determination to send the departing soul off in grand style was appreciated by everyone.

In time, of course, Rob's parents passed. Now the few survivors helped the grown man gather the wood, and this time the bonfire seemed to reach the wind-swept clouds that flurried over the open sea. All that was left was of the once-populous clan was Rob and his three brothers.

The men tended the garden and it continued to produce well though it was much smaller than in earlier times when the Clan was large. Each man helped gather fish from the sea. There were fewer mouths to feed now so the harvesting required less work, especially since there were no too-old nor too-young members to work for. The men did their jobs as had many generations before them, and they did them with as much vigor as in their youth.

One by one the brothers passed. Now Rob, an old man, hoed his own, small garden and fished only from shore as it didn't take much food to keep him alive. When he gathered driftwood from the rock shore he did it far more slowly than when he was younger.

As it turned out, Rob lived past the century mark as his great-great-great grandfather Ian had. The last years were hard on him physically, but psychologically he felt strong. All his life he'd conditioned himself for the end just as untold Colbert generations had, that death brought the

ultimate family reunion and was something to rejoice over. Rob ate fewer and fewer potatoes and toward the very end had to give up fish all together.

One morning a heavy mist, as thick as the bottom inch of a well-cooked mug of potato soup, hung over Colbert Island. The wind had stopped as had the eternal pounding of the surf. Like the day in his youth so long ago, the sea lay calm and mirror-like. But this time he would not skip a stone.

Rob knew that his time had come. He crawled to a huge pile of driftwood and lit it. As it reached skyward, the blaze illuminated the moisture-thick air like a great, circular ball of light. The old man basked in the glow and from its warmth. He was glad his time on Colbert Island had come to and end, although his stay had been joyful. Tending the garden, harvesting the sea, and gathering firewood had given him years of fulfillment. But as the years had passed, there were fewer relatives to share it with. Now, on his last day, he forgot those lonely years, for soon he would reunite with the Clan and all would be one again. It was a beautiful fire.