Tracy, CA

Tracy, California was one of the most important teachers in my life. I was sent there by the Lutheran Church when I completed my Teaching Minister Training in 1950. I had never heard of the place, really had no option other than to accept the assignment and   get there and go to work.

My job was typical of those days, teach grades 4-8 in the two room school, serve as the school’s principal, be the congregation’s youth director, instruct the Sunday School teachers, sing in the choir, play the organ for parts of the Sunday services (as able), teach an adult class each Sunday and in cases of emergency conduct the Sunday worship services, and in summer conduct a Vacation Bible School. It all sounded normal for the times. So I learned to love kids, work hard, know the community and get my Master’s Degree from the University of Pacific by writing my thesis  (usually beginning that work after 10:00 pm when the rest of the work was done.)

Tracy taught me frugality. My salary was $180.00 a month. The first year I could not afford to own a car. I lived in a bedroom of a most gracious family (Lydia and Arnold Zielske) who cooked my meals and did my laundry

I learned to appreciate being part of a small community. Tracy which today has a population of some 85 thousand had only 10,000 in 1950. My classroom kids did a joint project of studying the city. Because it was so closely knit some students interviewed the mayor or the recreation director, or the oldest merchant in town and even grape growers, catsup factory workers, and grape growers. When I walked down Main Street on Saturday mornings people greeted me by name. I played city-league basketball for D&W Billiards and softball for the local Shell Gasoline Station teams. 

The most important thing about Tracy though was that is where Jane and I established our first home after our marriage in 1951. We loved our $85.00 a month apartment. Jane played the organ for church services, taught art in my classroom and learned to can tomatoes, apricots, and Queen Anne cherries. It was in Tracy that our first son, David, was born. It was Jane who cashed our bi-weekly check, divided the money and placed it in designated envelopes beginning with our tithe marked “The Lord” right down to the 50 cents for postage each month.

We learned the value of friends, common people with uncommonly devoted hearts. The Hamlows, Paulsons, Childs, Erharts wrapped their arms around us, invited us over for meals, shared their beer and stayed in contact until one by one they passed away.

I now drive past Tracy as we bypass it on the freeways to the Bay Area. I now know no one there. But it still pulls at my heartstrings with its siren song of first love, first child, first full-time job, and first glimpses of the rewards of commitment to a calling and to people.