Dear Boo and Bubble,
The whole purpose of The Bridge Project is to give you
tangible links to the past – to those who went before you and whom you will
never personally know. Many of my
“bridges” construct from memories of life growing up and perhaps in their
lightheartedness offer some glimpse into the more substantial concepts of
family, faith and community.
By far, however, the most consequential bridge being built
for you is the one Captain has been working on the last few years. His quest into the life of your great, great,
great, great grandfather Joseph Benson Cottrell reveals a foundation formed for
you over 150 years ago that will take generations to crack. Over time, as I become more familiar with the
volumes of first-generation materials written by Joseph, I will share them with
you, but for today, my focus is on the words written about him at his death in
1895 by Rev. I.W. Emerson. It is some of
the most beautiful prose I have ever read and underscores a very valuable
principle - that what people think of us isn’t important. It's how we are remembered that matters.
Dr. Cottrell was a
very rare man. His individuality was so
distinctly marked, and at so many points, that it is very difficult to fully
and justly characterize him. He was the embodiment
of a marvelous combination. In him all
of the elements of life seemed to have fuller and freer play than is to be
often found. They stood in equal
balance, each being sharply defined. The
playfulness of childhood, the enthusiasm of youth, and, on occasion, the
gravity of maturity, were happily blended.
He seemed to have lost nothing in this regard that he had once
possessed. One element was not
supplanted by another, but each held its vigor and freshness in sharp
outline. Wit, humor, and pathos followed
each other in uncertain order. His was a
polyglot nature, speaking in all languages know to the souls of men. There met in him the extremes of strength and
weakness, volatility and stability, loyalty and apparent irreverence. His composition seemed to be of extremes.
His mind was like a
complicated machine, propelled by turbine action, whose wheels run in all
conceivable directions, each, apparently, intent on discharging its function
independently of all the rest. To those
who did not know him well, there seemed to be wanting both purpose and plan. This, however, was a very great mistake. There was such a harmonious blending of the
varied and various extremes as to produce a strong character and a fine
intellectual balance.
Dr. Cottrell had a
massive and active brain, and a large and loving heart. In the interest of truth, as he understood
it, he did not hesitate to measure lance with the strongest foe. At the same time, his great brotherly heart
throbbed with tenderest sympathy for the needy and helpless. He was frank, open, honest, brave, fair, with
nothing to conceal.
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