Reflections on Retirement: 3 Satisfying Days

I’ve been retired now for more than 22 years and it has been good. I am blessed to live with Jane, my wife of 6e4 years. The retirement community in which we live is wonderful. Our health is good. Our congregation, Calvary Lutheran in Solana Beach is supportive.

Probably the best thing about retirement in contrast to my previous working environment is that I do not feel responsible for an organization and I actually go through a whole week without any meetings.

Into this environment there come some special days that are extraordinarily satisfying. I recently had 3 of such days.

Day One: I had a terrible cough my body was weak. I did a most unusual thing. I stayed in bed late. At 10:00 a.m. the phone rang. A volunteer at church called. She knew I had volunteered to fill in if there was any emergency situation as our pastor was out of town. She told me that a phone message from the previous day (Sunday) said someone was dying and there was a need for a pastoral call. My initial response was negative. “I’m not feeling well. Pr. ‘N’ is also on call; he could do this- and why is yesterday’s message being responded to only today?”

But I acted. My phone follow-up gave me the message, “Ellen is not just very sick. She is at the point of death.”

I hurried over. I was greeted by Mary whom I soon discovered was the best, kindest, most able and compassionate hospice care provide I have ever met. Ellen was indeed dying but conscious. I stroked her arm. I spoke into her ears and looked in her eyes. I recalled happy days. I read to her from John’s Gospel, “In my Father’s House are many mansions. I go to prepare a place for you.” Together with her care giver we recited the 23^rd psalm. I prayed a prayer and we did a ritual for those dying.

I asked if it would be possible to have Holy Communion. The aide assured me it was. I was concerned about Ellen swallowing even a little bread and wine. But the caregiver provided a small syringe. We consecrated the sacramental elements, merged them, put them into the syringe and we three partook of the blessed elements, I spoke the Biblical blessing and left.

Twenty minutes later I arrived home. Jane said we’d had a phone call from Ellen’s caregiver. Ellen had died a few minutes after I left. She had let go. She died in peace.

I was grateful to have been a part of a day very well spent.

Day Two: Memorial Day

The retirement community in which we live includes a great many retired US Military personnel. Since we are near San Diego and Camp Pendleton there are especially many former Navy and Marine veterans. Memorial Day rituals are a big thing here.

But this year I decided to observe Memorial Day (Veterans Day) “off campus”. I volunteered to feed the homeless at TACO (Third Avenue Charitable Organization) at First Lutheran in downtown San Diego.

 So I gathered with the 20 or so volunteers to meet them and get acquainted, to get our arrangements and to have a community prayer. I was honored to be asked to lead that prayer.

Soon the 2000+ guests arrived and gathered din the church courtyard. We had a special birthday cake for those who had birthday in May. I was again asked to lead the prayer. But first I asked all veterans to raise their hands. Tragically there were more than a dozen now living on the street, homeless and hungry. I thanked God for their (and all veterans’) contribution to preserving American\’s best values.

As they all marched through the food line I tried to look into each face, the mentally ill, those on drugs, women, men, children, all colors and ethnicities, each one a hungry brother or sister.

They all responded in gratitude, humbly and sincerely. As long as the food lasted they could come back for seconds or thirds – or even for take-out.

I wished them all God’s blessings and drove back home to my well supplied and secure home. And I felt good about my small role on the different kind of Memorial Day – a day well spent.

Day Three: Committee meeting

I mentioned above that one of the blessings of retirement is the greatly reduced number of meetings one is required to attend.

Yet I recently chaired a very small Committee meeting. On the face of it, it sounds like the dullest of all possible committee meetings.

I chair the Governance Committee of a local organization called Survivors of Torture International. We provide a safe haven, psychosocial support and immigration support to persons who have fled to the USA to escape government sanctioned torture now so very common in too many parts of the world.

I’ve spent my life working for “not-for-profit” organizations so it is no big deal for me to help our organization with training board members, putting in place staff succession processes, ensuring proper accounting. So my committee does that. The three other committee members all know their stuff, bringing competence, compassion and commitment. So we did our thing for a couple of hours.

Really all very simple and straightforward. Yet as I drove home that evening I felt satisfied. I was using my time, talents and experience so that others might find a life much better than what they had experienced in their home country. It was a satisfying day for me.

Reflections on a Blessed and Happy Life - No. 21 - High School Work for Pay

 Working for pay was always a high priority for us kids growing up in the depression years of the 1930’s. Of course, we never got paid for any work around our own home. A weekly allowance was something we only heard about. So early on I mowed lawns for my relatives and then picked cotton for neighboring farmers during the summer. I was good at the first and very very poor at the second.

Therefore when I went away to dorm living at Concordia Academy in Austin in 1941 it was assumed that I would find some paying jobs. This was complicated by the fact that we were not supposed to go off campus from Tuesday a.m. through Saturday noon. So I found work on campus. The first job was to help take care of the grounds. I was assigned a partner, Mike Mitschke. We worked especially the rose bushes. Our work was carefully monitored by the school’s head, Director Dr. Henry P. Studtmann. The pay was 20 cents an hour.

In my junior and senior years I got another assignment. I managed the “school stationery”. This was a small operation originally set up to sell stationery supplies to students. Gradually it was

expanded to a much more productive service namely that of selling candy, soft drinks and such. We were open for a few minutes after chapel each morning and then again after evening chapel services. Everything was supposed to be on a strictly cash only bases, but there were always some students who asked for credit. So I kept a log of that. However, every accumulated bill had to be settled by Friday evening or no more goods would be sold to that person.

Since these were the years of World War II it was extremely difficult to procure candy etc. to sell. Every week I would go in the “college truck “ with the school custodian to a wholesale provider. There I put on my most friendly and beseeching face in an attempt to get a supply of Milky Ways, Mars Bars, Butterfingers et sim. Some times I succeeded, other times I came up empty. I am somewhat ashamed to admit that once I procured these favorites I was not always completely fair in making them all available for general purchase to all students. I must admit that at times I did hold some back for favored roommates or other friends.

In retrospect I find it amazing that there was virtually no supervision nor accountability. Each week I simply told Director Studtmann how much gross income there was, turned that amount over to him and then moved on. It was a good job.

 In my junior year (11^th grade) I got a good break. The Wukasch Brothers Café operated on the main drag just across the street from the big central library tower of the University of Texas. They were looking for workers. Again Mike Mitschke and I quickly jumped at the opportunity.  On Saturday afternoons (except for when the Texas Longhorns had home football games) we walked the few miles to the café and got to work in the kitchen. I remember especially peeling pound after pound of potatoes. But we also helped with doing dishes, cleaning the floor etc. The 20 cents an hour was occasionally supplemented by a free ice cream cone at the end of the day.

This job turned out to also be available over the summer ,so I grabbed it. I actually rented a small room at the home of Teacher and Mrs. Wilkening and got in as many hours as possible. I was promoted to waiter, which meant that my 20 cents an hour was supplemented by tips.  I don’t recall ever getting a tip larger that 25 cents but those nickels and dimes did count up. And I got my meals provided, as long as the cost did not exceed the 40 cents which was the price of our standard plate lunch. Now that I think of it, the café also got a good deal. They wanted me there early in the morning through about 2:00 p.m. then wanted me “off” without pay from 2:00-5:00, returning again to work from 5:00-7:00. It all worked out.

One other benefit of that job was it expanded my horizons. I became very close to Joe the dishwasher. He was an African American and for me to work with a non-Anglo was a good and positive experience. To this day I recall our banter, our 5 cents a day wager on how many lunches would be sold that day, my covering for him when he took off for June teenth (the remembrance day of when slaves were first freed in Texas). One other “handymen” there was a mentally challenged gentleman and he, too, was my teacher. Furthermore, my sheltered life had in no other circumstances put me in contact with any non-Lutherans. Here I worked with people of many or no religious beliefs. Some of my co-workers were females (both single and married) whose life experiences, language, and other escapades help expand my world. I also learned that of all meals ,breakfast is probably the most difficult to serve. I never knew there were so many different interpretations of what it mean to have eggs “over-easy” or to have bacon that is “slightly crisped” or toast that is “toasty but not too brown” The size of the waffle or the appropriate thickness of a pancake was always open to argument, All in all this was a very good experience and later some of that family was generous in helping me find funds to go on to college.

I believe that today, after 60 years, there is still a café on that site, but I bet one cannot get a steak sandwich for 30 cents!

Reflections On A Blessed and Satisfying Life - No. 20 - High School Sex

Sex in the public arena in the l940's was very different from what is it today. This was 40 years before the pill, 20 years before the work of Masters and Johnson, and 10 years before the first issue of “Playboy” magazine. Condoms were hidden behind counters or in machines in men's rest rooms. Couples known to have sex before marriage were subject to church excommunication processes. Yet none of this really explains my early teen years' ignorance and naiveté about sex.

I still marvel at what a slow learner I was. We raised and bred cattle and hogs. I remember telling my best friend that I found it interesting that roosters played tag with hens. (He laughed a little titter which I did not catch on for another few years!) I am Number 3 of nine children so my mother had had several children after me, yet the word "pregnant" was never mentioned in mixed company. My instruction came in very uninformed conversations with my sister Leona and finally from the book which mom and dad left prominently displayed in the bookshelves, entitled What Every Young Man Should Know.

But when I started living in an all-male dormitory filled with teen-agers, sex and sex talk was not a secret. Some at least played the game of knowing all about it. Others remained quiet. Maturing boys did a lot of comparisons in our public showers. It was my guess that only one of the boys in our entire school was having sex with his girl friend (and this was especially scandalous because he was the son of one of our professors.) The rule was absolute: "No sex before marriage " In spite of all this I know that at least three of my small class "had to get married" within two years of them being my high school classmates. And it was a time in which high school girls loved to wear very tight sweaters (even to church) and we boys were sure to notice and comment.

It is with considerable regret that I recall being completely in the dark about homosexual orientation and all I knew about homosexual activity came from dirty jokes all using the usually pejorative terms of the day.

Nor was there any "sex education" under any pseudonym in the high school curriculum and if it was ever spoken about in class I have no memory of it.

But somehow I guess I learned. My wife and I are the parents of five. And now some 70 years after graduation from high school I have had a very satisfying and blessed sex life and I am not so sure I would change my experience with that of my grandkids now in their teen years.

Reflections on A Blessed and Satisfying Life - No.18 High School Years and Girls

As with all (or at least the vast majority) of high school boys, members of the opposite sex were on the agenda of my classmates and me. Yet it was a far from normal situation. We were in an all- boys school. It was a dormitory school and we were not allowed off campus five days of the week. We were all in a town other than hometown. So we had very little interaction with girls.

The one weekly opportunity came each Sunday when we all went to church. We walked the two miles each way to St. Paul’s Lutheran Church and were required to attend both the morning and the evening services.  There, at least, we were in the company of someone not of the male gender. The good news is that that church had the very unusual architecture, which placed the choir in front of the church behind the altar. Thus our eyes always looked right to the soprano and alto sections. The choir was robed in traditional garb. We could try to make some eye contact and that was about as close as we could get. Even so, we discussed the various girls and tried to figure out who was of an age to attend the Walther League meetings on Sunday afternoon. Those meetings were hardly great social events. I remember us having some appropriate topic to discuss, some project to plan and then a game to be played. We did that and the walked back to our dorms.

Yet some of us ... some made contacts. Rumors on campus floated about which girl had her eyes on which boy-and which boy might daringly ask a girl for a date. Actually “having a date” was rare.

My memory is that in my four years at Austin I had two dates. Each time I met the girl whom I had telephoned and fearfully asked for a date. I made my way to her house via city bus. I got checked out by her parents. We took the bus downtown to a movie. We took the bus back to her home. I walked her to the door. I turned around and took the bus back to the campus. (Except that on my second of those memorable dates my bus got to downtown too late to get the last bus to the college and I had (as I remember) 30 minutes to run the three miles back to campus and be in bed for the10:00 o/clock bed check by Dean Beto.

In my senior year I did a very daring thing. I made a telephone call and asked a non-Lutheran girl to join me at a party. She was one of the twin daughters of the boarding house mother at which my sister Erna lived. I had met her. Moreover she was really beautiful and well known as she was a cheer leader for the Austin High School I finally got the courage to call her, remind her that we had met and asked her to join me for a birthday party of a classmate. She told me she had another activity already scheduled. I believed her. But I never called her again!

I did exchange some letters with “ D”. I had had my eyes on her already in the 7^th and 8^th grade at Zion Elementary School and we did exchange a few letters. Also we went Christmas caroling together and at the end of the caroling she became the first and only girl I ever kissed before college.

One other girl was one from the near-by town of Thorndale. I met at a Walther League event. She was very nice and I liked her a lot. We exchanged a few letters. I remember she came to my high school graduation (presumably driven there by her parents.) There we spoke briefly. But after the ceremony I went out with some of the guys to an amusement park. She was really nice and I always thought fondly of her but neither of us pursued the relationship. Later she did marry a Lutheran schoolteacher who had been with me at Concordia College, River Forest and I am sure they had a good marriage.

As I reflect on all this I do have some regrets. High school years should be a time for good fun with both young guys and girls. It is a good time to explore one’s values and social skills and to have some good clean fun. I regret missing that. And I am most grateful that I did not meet my future wife at that time as that would have prevented me from marrying Jane and nothing coming out of high school or any other relationship could ever be as good and blessed as that.

Reflections on a Blessed and Satisfying Life - No.17: High School Academics

Reflections on a Blessed and Satisfying Life - No.17: High School Academics

Concordia Academy was clear on its mission: train young men for the rostered ministries of The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod-both those ordained for pastoral ministry and those commissioned for the teaching ministry. I was in the second category following in the footsteps of my father.

Our training was in the old tradition of classical education. We took at least one course in religion every term. Next in priority came the languages. I took English, German (all using German script) and Spanish. Those studying for the pastoral ministry added Latin and even some Greek.

I do not think any of our professors ever took a course in educational methodology. They were clergy and were probably chosen because they scored high academically.  Dr. Studtmann who was also the school’s Director taught religion and German. The eccentric (and brilliant Dr. Viehweg taught Latin and Greek. Dr. Martin J. Neeb taught us public speaking and he assured us that even though we were in high school he used exactly the same curriculum he used while concurrently teaching that course at the University of Texas. The theologian George J Beto taught physics.  For two years Dr. Robert Schroeder taught whatever no one else taught. He was an excellent teacher (and should also have been the basketball coach!).

True to the values of the day, there were no women on the faculty. One woman was allowed to teach individual students the piano. I was among her notable disastrous failures (not due to any deficiencies on her part, I can assure you.) The other woman who was allowed on campus (and she wasn’t even a Missouri Synod Lutheran was a Mrs. Lillian Bedicheck. She taught Spanish. She was wonderful. She loved us. She gave it her best. We were disrespectful, came to class barefoot, not studious and failed to do our homework. But she hung in there with us, was extremely gracious and kind and I have wonderful and fond memories of her.

(Caveat on Mrs. Bedicheck: One of the reasons we loved her is that her husband was a big wheel in Texas athletics and he got us free passes to Texas Longhorn games etc. Twenty years after leaving Austin I was in a tailor shop in Hong Kong. I met a tourist from Austin Texas. I disclosed that I went to Concordia. The surprised comment from the tourist ”Oh, that is where my best friend Mrs. Bedicheck taught Spanish. She loved those boys and still talks about them!

When I compare the quality of my high school education with that of my grandchildren I see again how inadequate my high school years were. There was way too much indoctrination, too much rote, and too little project work. No cooperative work assignments, little creativity, no problem solving, no understanding of different learning styles, very little appreciation for the arts. On the other hand our teaching gave us strong faith and moral grounding, dedication to hard work, and a desire for more learning.

Another caveat: Prof Viehweg tried to teach us music appreciation. One evening he had a select group of us meet with him to listen to some classical music played for us from a wind-up Victrola. When I got back to my room I told my roommate how bad it was. I said to him, “We listened to that one song and all they sang was ‘Hosanna ‘over and over!” Of course it was from Handel’s Messiah and just too far removed from Country Western for me to think it could come anywhere close to expressing what one truly feels!

I guess something was done right. I still remember most of the Lutheran doctrine taught me. I can still diagram sentences. I have been able to have quite a bit of my writing published; I enjoy classical music and still read old German script. Just don’t expect me to play you a song on the piano-or send you a greeting in Spanish!