Reflections on a Blessed and Happy Life No. 27: Off to College

  My17th summer was exciting and full. I graduated from high school, worked full-time at a café (while renting a room near-by) played on a very good softball team and a mediocre baseball team. We celebrated VE Day, were excited and also worried by atom bombs being dropped in Japan, We rejoiced and celebrated_VJ Day and then off to college.

I headed for what was then called Concordia Teachers College-River Forest, IL (now Concordia University Chicago. There was never any consideration for even a minute that I would go anywhere else. My father had graduated from there 25 years earlier-and that is where I was headed.

Mother faithfully helped me get ready. She found a big “steamer trunk” which she could use to send my “stuff.” She saw to it that I go\t my first pair of gloves and even an overcoat. (I hated it then and still don’t like wearing one.)

I contacted four other Texans who were also headed to R.F. and coordinated rail travel The railroad people told us not to travel over Labor Day as the end-of the-war traffic was overwhelming everything. On the day of travel Mother gave me my most important carry-on; namely food for the journey. There was no way on earth we would have the funds to eat in the train diner. Mother fried chicken (having butchered the chicken herself) made lots of homemade bread. Stuffed in a couple dozen cookies and secured it all in a good sturdy bag.

Dad had his last minute instructions, which included a few words that were not characteristic of him at all. He said  “Melvin, when my father put me on the train to go to River Forest when I was 15 years old he said to me ‘If you are expelled, don’t bother coming home’.” He left it at that. I think he wanted me to take this business seriously-but it was just not in his oh so kind nature to threaten me with self-expulsion from the family.

The train was full. The ride long. We changed trains in St. Louis. As we went toward our new coach (of course, we had no reserved seats) I walked outside the train cars and looked in for a few seats. As we went by one car I said to my buddies “Oh. There are a few seats in that car, but we can’t go there. That car is for colored only!” The porter alongside me heard those words and almost roared at me, “Get in that car young man, you are no longer in the South. From here we all ride together!”

Dad had given us detailed instruction on how to get from Chicago’s Union Station to River Forest via the El and then a walk of a couple miles.. But when we got to the train depot some relatives of one of our roommates were there. They drove us to R.F. They were great.

College orientation went smoothly. Of course, I noticed that in contrast to the boys-only student body of my high school there were “girls” on this campus. We did not pay much attention to them nor they to us-, except for a couple of them who took more to my strange Texas cowboy boots than to me and that was okay too.

Our dorm arrangement was that 8 of us shared two rooms, one for study and one for sleeping. The eight of us got along together well. I sadly report that of those 8 I am the sole survivor.

I am absolutely positive I did not telephone my folks that I had safely arrived on campus. That would have been unthinkable. I do hope that as I settled in I said a special prayer of thanks to my whole family as all of them made “Sending Mel off to College“ a family project.

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 Upon a Blessed and Exciting Life – No.13: End of Elementary School

The 8^th grade, my 14^th year of life, marked a significant transition point. There were several clear indications that I moved from being a young child to being a young man.

One of those rituals was Confirmation at my church. This was a ritual in which we expressed a re-confirmation of our status as beloved children of God. This first happened at our infant baptism but was then “confirmed” when we were 14 or in the eighth grade.

Significant rituals marked the Confirmation occasion. In my time it was always on Palm Sunday, the Sunday before Easter. First was the matter of dress. My parents took me to Walburg Mercantile General Store. There we picked out my first-ever store-bought suit. It was smart and cost a total of $7.00, a major investment for clothes. I got a nice tie and anew pair of black patent leather shoes. I wore my new attire  it with pride for years and still have that now 73 year-old Kodak photo to prove how proudly I wore that suit.

The second phase of the ritual was a “public examination” in front of the entire congregation. The pastor asked the questions, called upon a “confirmand” to answer loud enough so the whole church could hear. The anxiety around this ritual was somewhat reduced by at least two factors. We pretty well knew what the questions would be and even the preferred exact words in the answer. Also the pastor wanted to prove that he had taught us well; so he knew on whom he should call for the easy or the more difficult responses.

The ritual was also important because each of us was given a “Confirmation verse”. This was a short text from the Bible. Mine was Romans 1:16: “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ for it is the power of God unto salvation to everyone that believeth.”

In those days, Confirmation also meant we were allowed for the first time to partake of the Sacrament of Holy Communion, a very important ritual for me to this day. “First Communion” was always on Maunday Thursday, the Thursday after Palm Sunday. We used a strange procedure as a part of this ritual. We knelt at an altar rail on the left and received the host (breat). Then we got up, walked behind the altar and knelt on the other side and received the wine.

Of course, those were always several social  dimensions to the religious ceremony of Confirmation. One was that our sponsors (God-parents) joined us for the service and at the big meal in our home afterwards. My sponsor all made it (except for one who had tragically drowned while he was still a young man). Of course, the sponsors gave us gifts. I remember the incredible gift of a full $5.00 and leather bound King James version of the Bible. That Bible (though twice rebound since) is still a treasure to me.

There was still another coming of age privilege attached to Confirmation. We were now allowed to become members of The Walther League. The Walther League was the official young people’s society of the church. The very first ritual after our Palm Sunday Confirmation which we as new Walther Leaguers could participate in was an Easter egg hunt on Easter, the first Sunday after Palm Sunday. It was a thrill for me to look for those eggs hidden in the pasture around our home.

 

Two unwritten permissions granted with Confirmation were the right to ”have a date” and for some, the first romantic kiss. I admit I was rather slow in accepting those new challenges.

The other major rite of passage was the 8th grade graduation ceremony. This was a big deal, always held on the evening of the last day of school. The graduates assembled on an out door stage. The audience, which could number as many as 200 sat in chairs and benches under the trees. There was always an “outside guest speaker” often the principal of a nearby Lutheran school. The graduation class chose a motto and posted it on the wall at the back of the stage. Ours was, “Climb Though the Path Be Rugged”. The class salutatorian delivered the welcome speech, the valedictorian, and the farewell speech. That was my job. I wrote it out and I remember my teacher (who was also my father) suggesting that I remove from my speech one word I had planned to use. The word was “antagonisms” will be as in “now all our old antagonisms will be left behind as we seek new life adventures.” I had been so proudly anticipating using that 4-syllable word, but my teacher was right in tamping down my eight-grade oratory.

Thus came to an end my elementary school years, certainly among the best eight years of my life.

Reflections Upon a Blessed and Exciting Life – No.12: Early Childhood: Poverty and Politics

I grew up poor. I was born in 1927. The market crash was in 1929. National unemployment rate rose above 25%. Income from farm products plunged. Dad’s salary was about $50 a month. Often the congregation was unable to pay even that. At one point the congregation owed him (I think) $300. They had a special fundraising effort, raised $150, gave that to him and called it even.

We never went hungry. We raised lots and Mom canned tons of vegetables. When all else failed we had boiled potatoes covered with beet juice. I loved it. I can still smell and taste the homemade bread. We raised and ate our chickens and pigs. The heifers were sold and we bought the beef. Even after our family grew to 7 members Mom would send me to buy $1.00 worth of round steak and it would feed the whole family. When we “butchered hogs” the meat was cut off the bones and made into sausage. But the bones were kept. (Some of them canned.) When things got tough Mother cooked these bones, we applied mustard and ground off the remaining bits of meat.

I had my first ever food in a restaurant when I was 14, a hamburger.

For me the Great Depression is associated with the anti-poverty efforts of President Franklin D Roosevelt. We listened on the radio to his fireside chats and made fun of his references to his dog, Fala. In those days we were all Democrats. (I don’t think I ever met a self-proclaimed Republican before I went to college!)

Two of the New Deal programs, which provided some government sponsored employment, were the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) and the Worker Progress Administration (WPA). As one part of its assignment WPA built better “out-houses” and one was built for us. Of course, we had no indoor toilet facilities and that outhouse was a welcome luxury. (And yes, it was always supplied with a Sears Roebuck Catalog. Real toilet paper was only for “the rich people”.)

Even though we benefitted from the WPA it was ridiculed and looked down upon by the adults whom I heard speaking about it. Those WPA workers were considered poor citizens for “relying on government handouts”. The belief was that if you were in trouble you just got by, trusted your family and if you got hungry then subsisted on “jelly bread.” I do not believe that a single member of Zion Lutheran Congregation ever “stooped so low as to go on public welfare” and take one of those government jobs!

In the midst of it all, we kids always took along our Sunday church offering, a nickel every Sunday! In reflection, I feel sadness at how hard my parents struggled to meet our needs; yet I am also grateful. Those years taught me “to be content with what I had”, to always try to find some kind of a job, and to be a very conservative spender. It also taught me to have a very deep appreciation for those rare and special days at our church picnic. I was given a nickel and for that got a big double scoop of ice cream!

Reflections Upon a Blessed and Exciting Life – No.11: Early Experience With Death

Death and dying were certainly not far removed or never spoken about in my early life. After all, my home (a congregation –owned “teacherage”) abutted the church cemetery, a couple of hundred steps from our front yard. From very early in my life I watched the volunteer grave diggers; I went with Dad who tolled the funeral bells; I watched the earth being dropped upon the in-grave coffins as the pastor “intoned” dust to dust, ashes to ashes.”

The death of animals in front of my eyes was a regular event. Mother killed fryers for dinner; hogs were slaughtered for ham and sausages. Our heifers were always sent away for butchering. I was still in elementary school when I assisted my cousin Ben Jacob in his weekly ritual of butchering cattle. Fresh beef was always available in their Andice General Merchandise Store.

Two animal deaths did disturb me. I was so sad when my father needed to shoot to death my beloved pet dog, Rover. Rover had been bitten by a poisonous snake. The bite around Rover’s mouth became terribly infected. Rover could not eat. Seeing a vet was never considered. The bite looked fatal and besides we had no money for vet costs. So Dad shot, killed and buried Rover, the closest pet I ever owned.

The second instance was a pet lamb whose name I cannot remember. We played with it from its infancy. Then came time for it to be butchered, but I could not get myself to eat the meat.

The third recollection relates to a near-death (but no death) experience. Some of my relatives were visiting and showing off their newly acquired 22 long-range rifle. They spotted a near-by bird and gave me instructions on how to aim, fire and kill that beautiful meadowlark, head held high and singing. I missed and I was glad! In that moment I resolved to never again fire a gun at a bird and I have kept that promise.

I am amazed that I claim to have a memory of when I was only 3 ½ years old, but I think it is a real memory. My cousin Milton Kurio who lived only a mile away died at the age of only 10 months. My memory is of overwhelming sadness seeing that miniature coffin being lowered into the ground.

The other strong memory is when I was 5 years old and being told of the untimely death of my cousin Ben Siek who was also 5 years of age. Uncle Ben (young Ben’s father) and Aunt Elizabeth had just had electricity installed in their Austin home. They joyfully replaced the old icebox with a new electric refrigerator. The icebox was awaiting pick-up for disposal. Cousins Helen and Ben were curious. They climbed into the old icebox, Helen in the ice storage side and Ben in the food storage side. We never learned how both doors became slammed shut. By the time frantic Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Ben found their trapped children both were unconscious. Helen survived, apparently because some life-saving oxygen worked its way up the ice drainage pipe but Bennie was beyond recovery. I had played with Bennie just days before his tragic death. Sadly 15 months later Uncle Ben died and I remember the faith, courage and strength with which Aunt Elizabeth and Cousin Helen carried on after those shattering experiences.

Of course, in the years since these early encounters with death I have been at the bedside of many deaths, have presided over burials ranging from Forest Lawn in Glendale, California to hillsides in Hong Kong to burial at sea in the Pacific. My childhood images of heaven and the after-life have changed in many ways. I continue to marvel at the mysteries of eternal life and I am confident in my trust in a benevolent God and confident that peace is what yet awaits us all.