Reflections Upon a Blessed and Exciting Life – No.15: High School Dorm Life

 As mentioned previously my 4 high school years were at a residential prep school (preparing for ordered ministry in the church). It was small; less than 100, all boys.

The facilities were sparse. I remember especially the long concrete corridor of our second floor dormitory. A favorite midnight prowl was for a student to take a big 16-pound shot put and roll it down the entire length of the corridor. The whole floor reverberated, especially in the bedroom of Dean George Beto who slept in his room one floor behind ours. I recall one night he came up to investigate. Of course, every student was fast asleep. Nevertheless he went to the end room, opened the door and screamed at the two occupants, “Steyer and Krueger, you are both campussed for next weekend.” “Campussed” meant they were not allowed to step their feet off campus.

Another very daring adventure (remember this was way back in 1941) was to sleep on the flat deck serving as the roof over the dining rom. I guess what made this exciting was that it was forbidden – and we had to pick a lock to gain access. But when we lay there on our blankets on a starry Texas night we felt daring – and maybe even romantic.

Naturally, there were no computers or cell phones then. There was one pay phone in the main hall. To make a long distance call home was out of the question, way too expensive. My memory is that I made a total of 2 calls in my 4 years there, both times calling “girls” and asking for a date. Once I succeeded. It provided me with the only real date in those 4 years at Austin Concordia.

I am embarrassed to remember that I never did my own laundry. As was the custom I placed my dirty clothes and bed linens in a cardboard laundry box and mailed it home! My mother washed, ironed and then sent me back my newly laundered clothes.

Only upper classmen were allowed to smoke.  If a freshman or sophomore was ever seen with a cigarette, that cigarette was confiscated along with any others the smoker had unsuccessfully hidden.

Showers were, of course, communal. I recall no doors on the shower stalls. As adolescent boys it was a time for much “comparison”, pride or embarrassment.

There was supervised “study period” every night from 7:00 – 9:00 p.m. I still recall how I shuddered when, one evening, Dean Beto opened the door to my room and bellowed, “Kieschnick, what are you doing?  You’re supposed to be studying!” My memory is that I was writing a message on the penny post card I was mailing to Mother the next day.

I still have some feelings of guilt about an “extra expense” I caused my parents. In my sophomore year I got a new room-mate, Mike, who now lives 5 minutes away from me in Encinitas, California. He wanted to place venetian blinds on our room windows. I agreed and my share of the cost was, I think, $8.00! This was an extravagance my parents paid with great reluctance. (I can assure you the home in which they lived had no fancy window coverings like venetian blinds.)

As I reflect now on those experiences some 70 years ago my memories are warm. I learned to live in community, to budget time and money, to develop my own set of values, to appreciate friendship, to resolve conflicts without resorting to violence and to survive the teen years in an all male environment.

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.14: Concordia College (Academy) Austin

Even before I was in grade 1 of my elementary school I knew what I wanted to be/do when I grew up. I was going to be a teacher in a Lutheran parochial school. That’s what my Dad was and he was my ideal. So it was an unquestioned given that Melvin was going to be a Teaching Minister. Only once (maybe when I was in the fourth grade) was this plan ever discussed. Mother was very sad and I recall her looking at me with loving eyes and saying, “Melvin, are you sure you want to be a Lutheran school teacher? There must be something better than that!” I was shocked. My guess is that Dad had not been paid even his meager $60 a month salary and that it was hard for Mom to feed and clothe her children and she really did not want her oldest son to go through that. Of course, I protested, “I want to be a teacher, just like my Papa!”

So there was no question about it. The first step was Austin College, now Concordia University, Texas. It was also called Concordia Academy. It was never called Concordia High School, although the only grades it included were grades 9-12 which were always called freshman sophomore, junior or senior. It was a prep school for recognized ministers in the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. There were two classifications: “Ordained Minister” and “Commissioned Teacher”.

It was small. I don’t think that in my days the total school enrollment ever exceeded 100. It was for “boys” only. And it was 100% residential. So at the age of 13 I left home for Concordia.

My memories are almost all positive. I loved sports and the school was so small that I could, of course, play all varsity sports. The professors all knew and respected my father who was chair of the All Texas Lutheran Teachers Conference, my Uncle Reinhold was on the Board of Control and the Director of the school (Studtman) was often a dinner guest in my home.

We lived in dorm rooms on the second floor; had our meals, classes, and chapel on the ground floor. There were two students in each room. We each had our “Murphy beds” which folded up and rolled into the closet each day. There was a central shower and toilet. To this day my high school friends all know that “Room 210” means shower and rest room.

As was typical of the day, there was some hazing to lower classmen. Any senior could scream, “Freshman! Sophomore!” and we were expected to run to the person who screamed and follow his orders. I escaped physical attacks and really had very few assignments beyond shining the shoes of the upperclassmen.

The day was highly routinized. Breakfast at 7:00, bed inspection at 8:00, classes till 4:00. Chapel services every morning and every night at 9:00. Lights out at 10:00 with the Dean making inspection every night to be sure we were in bed.

So from 1940-1945 that was the routine and the “stuff” that made up the routine will be the subject of the next few blogs.

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.