Seeds and the cycle of life

[Gsmith]

Far Shore

Wow! This is heavy, I too had no idea, and am saddened to hear this news. I couldn't possibly add anything, everyone has already said it all.

I'm sure most of us know of the group "The Seekers" from the '60s. Of course you can find them on you tube, they have a newer song called "Far Shore". It pretty much sums up my feelings.

Glenn

[Gordon Maney]

I want to emphasize that the magazine and forums will continue. That transition has been underway for a while. This community will continue and grow.

Go to work on an article please. This work has always nourished me, and now it is also my therapy — mental and physical.

[Gordon Maney]

Wow! This is heavy, I too had no idea, and am saddened to hear this news. I couldn't possibly add anything, everyone has already said it all.

I'm sure most of us know of the group "The Seekers" from the '60s. Of course you can find them on you tube, they have a newer song called "Far Shore". It pretty much sums up my feelings.

Glenn

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[QuantumJo]

Thank You

I have only been a part of this community for five years. In that time, I have learned more about dodge trucks than the 30 plus years I have been a Mopar guy. What I have also learned from this site is about people. Their beliefs, their passions, their upbringing, and their outlook on life.

Over the past four years the restoration of my 1977 Adventurer has stalled but I continue to visit this site even though I don't have anything to post about my truck. The people who post here have given me a perspective that I have not gained from the people that I associate with in my day to day affairs. What has been created here is so much more than facts about Dodge trucks. It truly is a family. Acts of generosity and compassion are common place, just as differences of opinions and the occasional heated argument.

I am saddened that I have not made the time to meet the patriarch of this family. Thinking that one day I will meet Gordon at the Iowa truck rally. I thank you Gordon for all that you have done for me. You have created this wonderful group of people of whom I have benefitted from as I am sure many others have. Not many people can say that they have brought so much good to a group of people, especially a group of knuckle banging wrench benders. It’s an accomplishment that anyone I know would be proud of.

A wise person once told me that beginnings come from endings. As I am not a religious person I will not pray. What I will do is wish for your days here to be filled with as much joy and happiness as possible and for you to have a journey that extends beyond what we can comprehend as life.

I raise a glass to Gordon Maney and to all that he has given to all of us!
Cheers!

[Gordon Maney]

Because of Ken Marsh I became a teacher. I continued to teach even after I left the school. Teaching is not just about subject matter.

[Gsmith]

Because of Ken Marsh I became a teacher. I continued to teach even after I left the school. Teaching is not just about subject matter.

Amen! Teaching can be as straight forward as steering someone down the right path in life. I did that with my children and am very proud of the decent people they have become.

[Kevin Mienke]

Gordon,

Momma has gone to Des Moines on a weeklong business trip, leaving the dogs and I to fend alone here at Stone Mountain. When a guy like me is left to fend alone, you never know what might happen. It’s a source of worriment for Momma…and perhaps the dogs too. But, as of now, I’m happy to say that we’re all still alive.

We spent the better part of the day in my woodshop; me in my rocking chair, and the dogs on an old rug by my feet. The window was open, the radio was playing low, and I had a cup of first-rate coffee in my hand. As if that’s not good enough, a slight breeze blew through the window, bringing some of the 68-degree weather inside. I judge it was about as close to unrestrained self-indulgence as I’ve ever come on a Sunday morning.

But there was a reason for my indulgence. I’ve been doing my best to channel a healing for my aching back, which has been a problem for quite some time. I hesitate here, the temptation being to go off on a rant about how my body doesn’t heal like it used to. It’s tempting to use a few expletives to describe it…tempting to invent my own… sending them out in waves of glory. But I’m not going to. Truth is, I'm grateful for the suffering I’ve had in my life. It has made me a better man. And, besides that, I don’t have it so bad. Others have bigger things to contend with than anything I’m dealing with right now.

So I sat there and talked with my dogs about strife and struggle. We talked about you and your battle with Lyme disease. We talked about Colt and his battle with Tourette syndrome. We talked about cancer and fire accidents and pain and treatments. We talked about battles in general and how we have so many of them to deal with in our lifetimes.

And we talked about how nice it is to have others there to help us, and about the idea of my being able to help you. As we talked, I wondered, aloud, how to approach it rightly. A dog’s eyes can tell you a lot, and what they were telling me was that I can do no great thing to help you…but I can do small things with great love. We’ll see what I’m able to come up with. This note is meant to be a start.

In my last letter to you, I spoke a bit about tools. You and I both know the need for having the right tool for each different job. For example, one can’t pull a tie rod end with a dinner fork. On the same note, he would be hard-pressed to eat spaghetti with a pickle fork.

Those of us who know the importance of having all the right tools will do our utmost to acquire as many of them as we can. And we do so over a period of a lifetime.

In my lifetime I’ve acquired many tools for woodworking…some that I use often and some that hardly come off the shelf. But I take care of them all the same, knowing that the least of them has a purpose that the greatest of them, on it’s best day, couldn’t fill.

When a guy spends a Sunday afternoon in his woodshop, looking into the eyes of a couple dogs, with a warm mountain breeze blowing across his face, he can’t help but realize that our tools aren’t limited to the ones we see on the shelves.

We have tools all around us…tools to help us deal with life and sickness and heartache and strife. We have dogs and breezes and trees. We have God and angels. We have coffee and women and kids. We have apple pie. We have friends. We have so much.

I’m guessing that your collection of such tools has grown over the last couple of years. If your experience with Lyme disease has been anything like my cancer experience, I would expect your collection to be a hundredfold of what it once was. Maybe a thousandfold.

Maybe the idea, then, is that if we’re able to gather up those tools and take them unto ourselves, we can find ourselves easing into whatever the job is or whatever the battle is…whether it be cancer, Lyme disease, a fire accident, an aching back, or worrying about whether, or not, your spouse can take care of himself and two dogs for a week…without someone dying.

I’ve never been real keen on loaning my woodworking tools. But loaning my other tools is a different thing. Whatever I have is yours for the taking…any tools I gained from my cancer experience…any tools I gained from fighting fires…or any I may have gained from walking down a misty mountain road with a cold coke in my hand.

I’ve had a good life, though some of the people closest to me would say that I’ve had more than my share of hard times. I guess I didn’t see the hard times as being that hard because I knew I had the right tools. And if I didn’t have them, I could go get them. Instead of inventing new expletives, I could get a cup of coffee and sit with my dogs. And when you sit with a dog, it won’t be long and the world will seem right again.

I’m quite sure this letter hasn’t told you anything that you didn’t already know. After all, you’ve spent your life teaching. But sometimes it’s just good to know that someone is thinking about you. It’s good to know that you have friends. A friend is a pretty good tool, and even if I’m the least of your tools, perhaps there will be something I can do that none other can. Know that I am willing.

When I was about 10 years old, my mom got me one of those hand held movie cameras for Christmas. I’m sure my dad had nothing to do with it. He believed the purchase of such things could land us in the poor house. But I loved that camera. I walked around with it and aimed it at everything…at the house, at the trees, at my mom while she washed dishes, at my dad while he worked on his motorcycles. Thinking I had no real storyline to film, I recorded the mundane details of my family’s day.

The reels from my camera still exist all these 40 years later, and I watched them with my dad in the weeks before he passed. There are frames of me walking around his shop with an oilcan in my hand. There are frames of him telling me what, and what not, to oil. There are frames of mom and dad sitting on the doorstep; when they realize I’m filming them, they laugh and lean in to kiss each other. There’s something about that particular scene that made my dad shed tears when we watched it…it was the way she curled up to him, I think.

As it turns out, none of what I was filming was mundane. Dad asked to watch the films several times in his dying days. They contained much of the story of his life, and I think he’d have gladly gone to the poorhouse to watch them just one more time.

Gordon, much of the story of your life is recorded in the pages of Power Wagon Advertiser. Those pages are pages that have touched me. Those pages are pages that have become cherished tools for me.

Rest assured that I’ll do my best to see that the magazine lives on, much like the reels from my little camera.

PS...if you should happen to see Momma walking around in the frozen tundra of Iowa, tell her the dogs are well.

Also, it was nice to hear your voice on the phone today.

[Matt Wilson]

Hi Gordon,

Like several others, I'm at a loss regarding what to say.

I've been a subscriber since the end of 1990, and have enjoyed every issue. From the very beginning, I've held you in high esteem and have been so appreciative of your work in building and bringing together the Power Wagon community. You are the godfather of the Power Wagon world. When I bought my '49, I didn't know where or how I would find parts or information, but I jumped in anyway. What a god-send the PWA turned out to be in helping me with that, and what a thrill to read each month.

Going beyond that, though, little did I know how much more I would gain from the PWA. Your editorials on hard work, craftsmanship, thinking for oneself, and other aspects of a well-rounded and honest living, have consistently given me food for thought, and in many cases, have helped shape my attitudes. I often find entertainment in the peppering of your humor throughout your writings, too. In your heart, I believe you are a teacher, even though you no longer work at "the most important job of my life." Many of us are still learning from you.

Gordon, thank you for all you do. Along with many others, I am thinking of you and waiting for the best that is to come.

[Gordon Maney]

I am so touched by the very many kind words.

[mauricedocton]

We are a team

Gordon - I just wanted to add a few words of support. 40 years ago I had several brushes with an uncertain future during 2 all-expenses paid government vacations to Vietnam. In those days I was a member of SEAL Team One(before it was glamorous); there were only two teams in those days and we totaled less than 300 men - a tight community. During those times when things didn't go well, we knew that we could rely on one another - we had shared a common goal and a common determination to get through some rather arduous training to earn the right to be counted among those ranks.

None of us thought much about politics or the Gulf of Tonkin incident when the poop hit the fan; we only cared about those to the right and left of us - we drew from their strength when we were weak or afraid and we gave our strength to them when needed. My request for you is that you draw off our strength, as we have drawn from you on those many occasions when we were discouraged with our trucks and their mechanical ailments. Our thoughts and prayers are with you - just ask for whatever you need. your friend - Maury (Maurice Docton)

[lennysgarage]

Hello Gordon, I'm very sorry to hear of your declining health. I so enjoyed talking with you at all those Power Wagon Rallies of past years. I think of you often while reading the latest Advertiser or watching my goofy Malamute,Hobie, playing in the backyard. I wish you the best. Leonard

[Gordon Maney]

Malamutes are good therapy.

[Chewie]

Malamutes are good therapy.

I agree.
And, they gave us Chewbacca, for which I am eternally grateful!

[powerwagontim]

Hi Gordon,
I was speaking with a friend who mentioned your health. It came as quite a shock, and I was deeply saddened to hear about it. You have been such a central figure to the Power Wagon community, your legacy and influence will live on for a very long time.
It has been an honor to know you and I am hoping that like in JimmieD's case, the doctors are all wet and things turn around for you.
Be strong my friend, you are in all of our thoughts and prayers.
Tim

[Gordon Maney]

Thanks to all for their kind words, it is heartwarming.

I continue with my central focus of producing the magazine and working the transition to our sturdy, young oak who will remain hidden in the forest canopy for the time being.

What do I need from you? Continue writing articles and letters; produce high resolution images of all kinds and send them to me!

Reader contributions are the life blood of the magazine.

Also need Dodge related photos for cover and interest shots. Be creative!