It's not 'How will the world end?' but 'How will we live today?'

On this day that Christians around the world celebrate resurrection, I find myself thinking of an old Robert Frost poem, "Fire and Ice." "Some say the world will end in fire,/ Some say in ice," the poem begins, but it's less about apocalypse than the here and now.

What provokes such thoughts is my coming across, as watching the snow fall earlier this week, a picture of a devastating fire in Linn Grove that occurred today in 1911.

You can't see the faces of Linn Grove residents in the picture, but you know there's a sense of stupefaction upon them. It's the way they mull about the smoldering ruins of what were five or six buildings, as if bystanders at a fatal car accident. I imagine them numbed by the destruction and trying to make sense of what happened.

Fire long has been an enemy. Prairie fires frequently swept across Iowa's pioneer farms and settlements. One settler, recalling those early days of our state's history, wrote that families always slept "with one eye open" until winter's first snow.

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Perhaps it's the sudden freedom spring's warmth brings that causes us to toss caution to the wind as if it were so many sparks. I remember from childhood a young couple that like so many of their ancestors before them started a farm. As always, it was hard labor, sweat and much sacrifice. But each year the corn grew tall.

One spring, though, the husband began an affair with a woman from a nearby town. Perhaps they were happier together; I know too little to judge them.

But I do know the results. The wife left with the children. The divorce forced the sale of the farm. Many ashes were left.

As Frost wrote, "From what I've tasted of desire/I hold with those who favor fire."

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There's a strong argument to be made for the world ending in ice, though.

Iowans living through the Black Blizzard of Jan. 12, 1888, which covered the state and left dozens of people dead, certainly would have thought so. Myra Hamann was 11 when the blizzard hit, and later wrote: "Around 4:30 p.m. the Black Blizzard arrived with unpredicted speed and violence. Enormous amounts of snow and dust, driven by winds up to hurricane velocity, created an instant blackout. The temperature began dipping to subzero marks. The lowest reading for the Hawkeye State stood at 42 degrees below, observers noted. The storm pounded Hohenzollern most of the night, piling snowdrifts estimated at 15 feet deep, which remained until the spring thaws set in.

"The morning of Jan. 13, 1888, brought sunshine and bright blue skies. The wind was calm but the bitter cold held its grip for sometime."

Then there's the famous Armistice Day Storm of 1940. Blinding snow, driven by 50-80 mph winds, covered three entire states. Thousands of pasturing cattle perished in Iowa; 154 people died across the Midwest.

Even today an ice storm minus the winds and snow paralyzes. With so many de-pendent on electricity for heat and clean roads for our groceries, downed power lines and glazed streets can leave us in a condition that's arguably little better than our pioneer ancestors.

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Some men never need to leave their houses to destroy themselves. I think of another neighbor from childhood, a bitter elderly man whose only real companion was his farm dog.

He could have his moments of kindness, but most thought it best not to encourage them the few times he did come to town. He might then converse with you, and that inevitably meant listening to his tirade of how Jews controlled the economy, of how African-Americans were parasites on the system.

Most thought it was best to stay out of his way as he moved slowly about, his face perpetually glowering, but I sometimes wonder if that was the wisest choice. As after a blizzard, was it not best to dig out and lend one another a helping hand until warmth returned?

And Frost's poem does conclude, "... I think I know enough of hate/To say that for destruction ice/Is also great/And would suffice."

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No, there is nothing ironic about thinking of "Fire and Ice" this last weekend in March.

For today really is less about the past or the end of the world - it's about the rebirth that occurs in our lives when we choose to live with desires in check and with our hate vanquished.

(originally published March 27, 2005)