Takk for alt.
Al
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
HAPPY NEW YEAR
Seeing the old year out, and probably not quite the new year in, with special friends, this is a brief moment to wish all HAPPY NEW YEAR. I will write more tomorrow!
Monday, December 30, 2019
Remembering Richard Andersen, 1/6/46-6/2/2019
When, in 1988, we settled in Golden Valley, MN., and Joanne was V.P. Programs, LSSMN, Richard was our Lutheran Brotherhood Representative (now THRIVENT). It wasn't long before Richard became much more than a 'representative,' he became a good friend. We traded stories of Vietnam as I traveled through the airport, Tan Son Nhut, where he was stationed during the war. The three of us found many friends in common and much much more. Later, when he became Director of Congregational Relations for LSSMN, he sought me out for my perspective. Having watched how Joanne operated when representing LSS, and having experienced LSS Representatives visiting congregations I served, I was prepared to offer a couple of suggestions. The first was that he visit LSS programs around the state. Second, I suggested that when given an opportunity to speak in congregations he tell the stories he'd gleaned from his visits to the service sites. Not only did he receive my suggestions he took them far beyond my vision.
At the time of his death, Richard, was Executive Director, Spirit in the Desert Retreat Center, Carefree, AZ. "He often said he loved his work at Spirit and saw it culmination of his career." (Copied from his memorial folder.)
Richard not only became our friend he also gave us a gift which was helpful after Joanne's death. With Richard's encouragement, Joanne and I embarked on estate planning, which led to the formation of a revocable trust. With the trust in place it was not necessary to go through probate after Joanne's death. This saved time, money and hassle. "Thank you, Richard!"
All this came to mind today when I came across the bulletin from Richard's memorial service held at Central Lutheran, Minneapolis, August 3, 2019. His lifetime of outstanding service ended way to soon. Rest in peace good and faithful servant.
Takk for Alt
Al
Compromise: Struggling to decide which book to read next I decided "both". So I read a chapter in one, then a chapter in the other, etc. 😋
At the time of his death, Richard, was Executive Director, Spirit in the Desert Retreat Center, Carefree, AZ. "He often said he loved his work at Spirit and saw it culmination of his career." (Copied from his memorial folder.)
Richard not only became our friend he also gave us a gift which was helpful after Joanne's death. With Richard's encouragement, Joanne and I embarked on estate planning, which led to the formation of a revocable trust. With the trust in place it was not necessary to go through probate after Joanne's death. This saved time, money and hassle. "Thank you, Richard!"
All this came to mind today when I came across the bulletin from Richard's memorial service held at Central Lutheran, Minneapolis, August 3, 2019. His lifetime of outstanding service ended way to soon. Rest in peace good and faithful servant.
Takk for Alt
Al
Compromise: Struggling to decide which book to read next I decided "both". So I read a chapter in one, then a chapter in the other, etc. 😋
Sunday, December 29, 2019
Travel Changes
When I first visited Lisa in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, in the early '90's, the city was still devastated from the rule of the Khmer Rouge (Killing Fields). Sitting in the airport waiting for a flight to Saigon I saw a pilot practicing 'touch and goes' on the main runway. Upon arrival in the airport entering Cambodia there were 8 or 10 officials sitting in a row. The person arriving would hand his/her passport to the official on one end of the row and it would pass down the line. When the passport was retrieved at the other end there was a charge of $10. U.S., and a visa was in hand.
Lisa will be working temporarily in Cambodia when I arrive in Thailand in January. We had planned to meet in Phnom Penh last year but she was called home early so we didn't connect. This year we plan to spend a few days together there. Tonight she helped me get my visa online...no row of officials behind a desk and, of course, the $10. has increased to $36.. It's been 11 years since I was last there so I wonder what I will recognize? This trip will be before I begin teaching in Thailand for my 12th year.
Cambodia's currency is the reil but American Dollars are widely used. One Cambodian reil equals 0.00025 U.S. dollar. This will be a challenge for my decimal skills. Perhaps I'll just stick with the dollar.
Takk for alt,
Al
Lisa will be working temporarily in Cambodia when I arrive in Thailand in January. We had planned to meet in Phnom Penh last year but she was called home early so we didn't connect. This year we plan to spend a few days together there. Tonight she helped me get my visa online...no row of officials behind a desk and, of course, the $10. has increased to $36.. It's been 11 years since I was last there so I wonder what I will recognize? This trip will be before I begin teaching in Thailand for my 12th year.
Cambodia's currency is the reil but American Dollars are widely used. One Cambodian reil equals 0.00025 U.S. dollar. This will be a challenge for my decimal skills. Perhaps I'll just stick with the dollar.
Takk for alt,
Al
Saturday, December 28, 2019
Reading Flashbacks...
There are books I've read from which scenes keep popping up in my mind. Richard Ford's Canada is one of them. Another is Per Petterson's Out Stealing Horses. Why some but not others? I don't know, I guess they just stick in my imagination. Using today's inclement weather to settle in with some serious reading I finished A Gentleman In Moscow, Amor Towles, which has been on my list for over a year. Likely this book will be a source of flashbacks in the days to come.
Surprisingly engaging, full of wit, wisdom and humor, though set in the tragedy that is Russian History, 1905-1954, much Russian political history slides unobtrusively into the story. For some reason I had not expected the book to be so delightful
The main character of the book is Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov. The Count, speaking to his adopted daughter, Sofia, about his late sister says,"As a younger man, I used to feel the same way about my sister. Every year that passed, it seemed like a little more of her had slipped away; and I began to fear that one day I would come to forget her altogether. But the truth is: No matter how much time passes, those we have loved never slip away from us entirely." P. 327
Life is for the living and, as we live forward, some of the immediacy of those who have died will be lost. Indeed, that is much of the pain of life in the land of grief. While on the one hand, the bereaved are called to move on with life, the fading of immediacy is hard to bear.
Later in the book a mutual friend comes bearing news of another friend's death. The Count has very close friends and a powerful bond with his adopted daughter, Sofia, but there's a poignancy in the reported death. "But, of course, the Count also wept for himself. For despite his friendships with Marina and Andrey and Emile, despite his love for Anna, despite Sofia---that extraordinary blessing that had struck him from the blue---when Mikhail Fyodorovich Mindich died, there went the last of those who knew him as a younger man. Though, as Katerina had so rightfully observed, at least he remained to remember." P. 374
"there went the last of those who knew him as a younger man." So much of grief is the loss of shared history. As we age family members, spouses, and friends die and each one takes with them their half of the shared history with the bereaved. No one remains who can fill that void because there was no one else who participated in those moments. But "...at least he remained to remember." So we come back "life is for the living" and in that living bearing the memories.
Takk for alt,
Al
Surprisingly engaging, full of wit, wisdom and humor, though set in the tragedy that is Russian History, 1905-1954, much Russian political history slides unobtrusively into the story. For some reason I had not expected the book to be so delightful
The main character of the book is Count Alexander Ilyich Rostov. The Count, speaking to his adopted daughter, Sofia, about his late sister says,"As a younger man, I used to feel the same way about my sister. Every year that passed, it seemed like a little more of her had slipped away; and I began to fear that one day I would come to forget her altogether. But the truth is: No matter how much time passes, those we have loved never slip away from us entirely." P. 327
Life is for the living and, as we live forward, some of the immediacy of those who have died will be lost. Indeed, that is much of the pain of life in the land of grief. While on the one hand, the bereaved are called to move on with life, the fading of immediacy is hard to bear.
Later in the book a mutual friend comes bearing news of another friend's death. The Count has very close friends and a powerful bond with his adopted daughter, Sofia, but there's a poignancy in the reported death. "But, of course, the Count also wept for himself. For despite his friendships with Marina and Andrey and Emile, despite his love for Anna, despite Sofia---that extraordinary blessing that had struck him from the blue---when Mikhail Fyodorovich Mindich died, there went the last of those who knew him as a younger man. Though, as Katerina had so rightfully observed, at least he remained to remember." P. 374
"there went the last of those who knew him as a younger man." So much of grief is the loss of shared history. As we age family members, spouses, and friends die and each one takes with them their half of the shared history with the bereaved. No one remains who can fill that void because there was no one else who participated in those moments. But "...at least he remained to remember." So we come back "life is for the living" and in that living bearing the memories.
Takk for alt,
Al
Friday, December 27, 2019
Wisdom...
She's ninety now and I've been to know to say to her "I want to be like you, when I grow up!" Wags out there will note that the chance of me ever growing up is unlikely. Whatever, this line from Ruth Halvorson's Christmas Letter struck me as apropos: "With aging comes less energy, accompanied by certain limitations, yet, it is a wonderful time to observe life from a different perspective and an opportunity to look at life with greater understanding, and appreciation. I have been thinking a lot about my ancestors and how indebted I am to them: I stand on their shoulders."
The perspective of age is indeed fascinating. Not only do get I see how I turned out, a surprise to many 😉, from this vantage of age, to watch the trajectory of others is endlessly fascinating. Maturity also brings an ability to avoid anxiety over little things that once would have caused me stress.
Then ancestors: Joanne's burial by my grandparents causes me to think about them more, Grandpa Lars Negstad came from Norway with nothing and by his death in 1919, at age 63, was a wealthy man with four children. Grandma Sigrid, died the year before I was born. Much of what I am, I owe to them, and I wish I could have known them; indeed I stand on their shoulders. I also wish I'd have asked my father more about them.
Lars, true son of his mother, has invited Joanne's family to his house this evening. This accounts for an early posting on this blog.
Takk for alt,
Al
The perspective of age is indeed fascinating. Not only do get I see how I turned out, a surprise to many 😉, from this vantage of age, to watch the trajectory of others is endlessly fascinating. Maturity also brings an ability to avoid anxiety over little things that once would have caused me stress.
Then ancestors: Joanne's burial by my grandparents causes me to think about them more, Grandpa Lars Negstad came from Norway with nothing and by his death in 1919, at age 63, was a wealthy man with four children. Grandma Sigrid, died the year before I was born. Much of what I am, I owe to them, and I wish I could have known them; indeed I stand on their shoulders. I also wish I'd have asked my father more about them.
Lars, true son of his mother, has invited Joanne's family to his house this evening. This accounts for an early posting on this blog.
Takk for alt,
Al
Thursday, December 26, 2019
2nd day of Christmas!
Garrison Keillor writes...
"Coming through airports
this week it struck me how kind everyone was, ticket agents, TSA people, cab
starters, and then light dawned: it’s Christmas. Charles Dickens had a big
impact on the world and so did Frank Capra and Jimmy Stewart, not to mention St.
Luke. I stood in a long winding line in LaGuardia and sensed no impatience; the
TSA guy even smiled and asked how I was. And when I lost my ticket in Atlanta,
I walked to Gate T7 and asked an agent and she made me a new one, no problem....And so we Christians needn’t feel sheepish about the shepherds
and angels. The day is a lavish gift, even if it comes with some wretched
songs, the one about the rum-pum-pum-pum for one and others involving bells
jingling that make you want to sue the radio stations. The beauty of the day is
its story, however one chooses to read it.
It all happened back in zero A.D.
Two folks in trouble due to pregnancy.
She lay him in the manger
And she wanted to lie down
But shepherds and wise men
Gathered around.
Two folks in trouble due to pregnancy.
She lay him in the manger
And she wanted to lie down
But shepherds and wise men
Gathered around.
A few slices of bread
Would’ve pleased her
But they only brought spices,
Frankincense and myrrh.
Would’ve pleased her
But they only brought spices,
Frankincense and myrrh.
They stood around singing,
These clueless men.
She thought, I’m never gonna do
Another virgin birth again.
Skip the adoring, be astute.
Bring some chocolate and a basket of fruit."
He also once wrote "The Wise Men's gifts...myrrh...that's a hot dish made with Creamette Noodles, which is how we know the Wise Men were Lutheran."
Could it be that we're too uptight and a little humor would be good for us?. Humor did not abandon me in the land of grief and I'm both grateful and reassured that I'm still intact. Changed, of course, yet the core remains and much improved from Joanne's influence.
Takk for alt
Al
PS "When I strike the open plains, something happens. I'm home. I breathe differently. That love of great spaces, of rolling open country like the sea, it's the gran passion of my life." Willa Cather
These clueless men.
She thought, I’m never gonna do
Another virgin birth again.
Skip the adoring, be astute.
Bring some chocolate and a basket of fruit."
He also once wrote "The Wise Men's gifts...myrrh...that's a hot dish made with Creamette Noodles, which is how we know the Wise Men were Lutheran."
Could it be that we're too uptight and a little humor would be good for us?. Humor did not abandon me in the land of grief and I'm both grateful and reassured that I'm still intact. Changed, of course, yet the core remains and much improved from Joanne's influence.
Takk for alt
Al
PS "When I strike the open plains, something happens. I'm home. I breathe differently. That love of great spaces, of rolling open country like the sea, it's the gran passion of my life." Willa Cather
 |
| Trygve's Christmas. |
 |
| Notice the bare foot. |
Wednesday, December 25, 2019
So much good!
Counting my blessings; after living internationally and at various points in the U.S., my children live a mile apart in S. Minneapolis, are active in the same church and conscientiously tend to their curmudgeonly father. The blessing of this came home to me as I sat with them in the pew for Christmas Eve Services. That reality alone would have been sufficient grace but then followed dinner at Lisa's and brunch at Lars' with additional precious family time. Because they recognize my love of reading I returned home with over 1100 pages to read, plus other treasured gifts. The Fredrick Douglass book alone is over 700 pages, so get your own copy now because it will be a bit before I can do a recommend reading report on it. It's also a bit heavy to bring to Asia as a travel book. 😉
This is my second Christmas without Joanne and, it is easier. Life alone, though in the land of grief, is beginning to assume a feeling of normalcy. A 'loner streak' has always been a facet of my personality and that seems to be helpful now. Staying connected is something I learned from Joanne and my children and I'm grateful for that learning, one which I will definitely not relinquish.
MERRY FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS!
Takk for alt,
Al
This is my second Christmas without Joanne and, it is easier. Life alone, though in the land of grief, is beginning to assume a feeling of normalcy. A 'loner streak' has always been a facet of my personality and that seems to be helpful now. Staying connected is something I learned from Joanne and my children and I'm grateful for that learning, one which I will definitely not relinquish.
MERRY FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS!
Takk for alt,
Al
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
Merry Christmas!
Blessed to have both my children in town, that gift is especially appreciated at Christmas. Lisa and Lars both attend Calvary Lutheran, S. Mpls., so I'll go there for Christmas Eve services at 5:00 and then we'll be at Lisa's for dinner. She's invited two friends, who do not have family in town,.to join us. It's what Joanne did. Tomorrow we'll be at Lars'. Then on the 27th we'll be back at Lars' when he's invited Joanne's family. That includes Joanne's brother, Mark, his wife Ione, 5 of their 6 children, spouses and grandchildren. It's what Joanne did. Trygve is included so he's not home alone at Christmas. 😊
Here's hoping for all a blessed Christmas and a great new year!
Takk for alt,
Al
Here's hoping for all a blessed Christmas and a great new year!
Takk for alt,
Al
Monday, December 23, 2019
Memory Lane
Dayton's Department Store in downtown Minneapolis, which took its name from the Dayton family, and, progenitor of Target Stores, was once THE preeminent city store. Now the sequence of its demise is not quite clear to me but it ended as a Macy's before closing. The building still stands on Nicollet Mall and is being re-purposed as a multi-use facility, which will include a food court and offices, retaining the Dayton's name.
Joanne told of visiting Dayton's at Christmas to see the unique Christmas scenes displayed in the windows at sidewalk level. Upon hearing that something was being displayed in the windows this year I planned a memory walk for granddaughters, Evy, 10 and Sella 7. Walking the skyway from my condo we exited through the Crystal Court of the IDS building onto Nicollet Mall across from Dayton's. On the 8th and Nicollet corner the windows show a display of Santa Bears, the stuffed animals that Dayton's would sell each year with a different design.
Santa Bears are not in the girls frame of reference so after a brief perusal they said "Let's go eat pizza" and we did. It did give me an opportunity to talk about grandma and one of Evy's clear memories is walking the skyway to Target store with her. They still enjoy walking in the skyway with so much to see. The museum in the Wells Fargo building gave them a bit of stagecoach experience which was more interesting than Santa Bears. Of course 'granddaughter time' is a biggy for me. The girls were not persuaded that their packages under my tree are gifts of underwear as I suggested.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS Just finished Anthony Trollope's The Warden, published in 1850, but totally relevant today as a delightful novelistic essay on integrity. Peter though I'd like it and he was correct. Trollope definitely has a way with words. If you haven't read you may want to check it out.
Joanne told of visiting Dayton's at Christmas to see the unique Christmas scenes displayed in the windows at sidewalk level. Upon hearing that something was being displayed in the windows this year I planned a memory walk for granddaughters, Evy, 10 and Sella 7. Walking the skyway from my condo we exited through the Crystal Court of the IDS building onto Nicollet Mall across from Dayton's. On the 8th and Nicollet corner the windows show a display of Santa Bears, the stuffed animals that Dayton's would sell each year with a different design.
Santa Bears are not in the girls frame of reference so after a brief perusal they said "Let's go eat pizza" and we did. It did give me an opportunity to talk about grandma and one of Evy's clear memories is walking the skyway to Target store with her. They still enjoy walking in the skyway with so much to see. The museum in the Wells Fargo building gave them a bit of stagecoach experience which was more interesting than Santa Bears. Of course 'granddaughter time' is a biggy for me. The girls were not persuaded that their packages under my tree are gifts of underwear as I suggested.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS Just finished Anthony Trollope's The Warden, published in 1850, but totally relevant today as a delightful novelistic essay on integrity. Peter though I'd like it and he was correct. Trollope definitely has a way with words. If you haven't read you may want to check it out.
Sunday, December 22, 2019
Again, about grief.
The privilege of attending my granddaughter's Christmas pageant this morning was sweet. My seat was not far from where my youngest was baptized, by me, on my birthday a few years ago and now she was an angel in the story. It was apparent that they were glad I was there and I try my best to represent all of their grandparents, two in New Jersey and Joanne...... Of course the presence of absence was profound even while I had the privilege of presence. So there is both joy and grief and so very often they come together.
Takk for alt,
Al
PS The quotes below tell the truth.
A family is like a body. When a family loses a loved one, it is as if they have lost one of their limbs. The contribution that was made by the family member that was lost can never be replaced. That person is gone. What that person has brought to the family is gone. It is important for the family to take time to grieve for this loss. Doing so is a matter of respect for the relative that has passed. It is also a step that the family must take to acknowledge its loss. If we do not take the time to honor the lost relative, it is as if we are saying that they didn't matter to us.
Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poems/death/grief/
Carolyn F.
some say they understand
been there, seen it, all first hand
but how could they possibly feel what I do?
for they never even knew you
because you were one in a million
one of those shining stars
that's why I feel so troubled
with deep and wounded scars
Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/grieving-for-a-loved-one
Takk for alt,
Al
PS The quotes below tell the truth.
A family is like a body. When a family loses a loved one, it is as if they have lost one of their limbs. The contribution that was made by the family member that was lost can never be replaced. That person is gone. What that person has brought to the family is gone. It is important for the family to take time to grieve for this loss. Doing so is a matter of respect for the relative that has passed. It is also a step that the family must take to acknowledge its loss. If we do not take the time to honor the lost relative, it is as if we are saying that they didn't matter to us.
Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poems/death/grief/
Carolyn F.
some say they understand
been there, seen it, all first hand
but how could they possibly feel what I do?
for they never even knew you
because you were one in a million
one of those shining stars
that's why I feel so troubled
with deep and wounded scars
Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/grieving-for-a-loved-one
Saturday, December 21, 2019
On winter..........
This is from today's Writer's Almanac.
Today is the winter solstice, the shortest day and longest night in the Northern
Hemisphere.
Poets over the ages have proffered plenty of advice for the
coming months. Poet Pietro Aretino, born in the 15th century, said, "Let
us love winter, for it is the spring of genius." William Blake wrote,
"In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy." There's a
Japanese proverb that says, "One kind word can warm three winter
months."
Emily Dickinson wrote, "There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons — That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes."
Al says: I'm not minding winter as much as sometimes in the past, though technically it just begins today. Several trips to The Little House, and what passes for hunting, have helped. Taking the Norwegian proverb, "There is no bad weather, only bad clothing" to heart I've dressed for cold both indoors and out. Daytime highs in Bangkok run in the mid-nineties and I'll be ready for that next month. Living in a 15th floor condo connected to nine miles of skyway is a boon, though I'd use it more if I was dog less. For whatever reason I'm whining less to myself about the cold.
Emily Dickinson's quote "There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons — That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes." intrigues me. Certainly the "...Slant of light, Winter Afternoons..." is familiar to me and one of my childhood memories of life on the farm. But do "cathedral tunes" oppress? Is there an older usage of 'oppress' that is lost to me?
Christmas mail redux: Since writing on last night's blog that I'm enjoying Christmas mail especially much this year I've been thinking about, why? It is certainly true that the greetings; cards, letters and pictures are especially welcomed. Perhaps at least two factors are in play. The first is age maturity bringing the recognition of the profound value of relationships. The second in like onto the first. Life with the presence of absence in the land of grief is a powerful reminder not to take family and friends for granted.
Takk for alt,
Al
Al says: I'm not minding winter as much as sometimes in the past, though technically it just begins today. Several trips to The Little House, and what passes for hunting, have helped. Taking the Norwegian proverb, "There is no bad weather, only bad clothing" to heart I've dressed for cold both indoors and out. Daytime highs in Bangkok run in the mid-nineties and I'll be ready for that next month. Living in a 15th floor condo connected to nine miles of skyway is a boon, though I'd use it more if I was dog less. For whatever reason I'm whining less to myself about the cold.
Emily Dickinson's quote "There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons — That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes." intrigues me. Certainly the "...Slant of light, Winter Afternoons..." is familiar to me and one of my childhood memories of life on the farm. But do "cathedral tunes" oppress? Is there an older usage of 'oppress' that is lost to me?
Christmas mail redux: Since writing on last night's blog that I'm enjoying Christmas mail especially much this year I've been thinking about, why? It is certainly true that the greetings; cards, letters and pictures are especially welcomed. Perhaps at least two factors are in play. The first is age maturity bringing the recognition of the profound value of relationships. The second in like onto the first. Life with the presence of absence in the land of grief is a powerful reminder not to take family and friends for granted.
Takk for alt,
Al
Friday, December 20, 2019
Savoring the joys of the season!
Today, when friends invited in for coffee, oood and ahd over the Christmas decorations it warmed the cockles of my heart. (I think I know what that means but need to check Funk and Wagnalls, to be certain.) I didn't do the decorating and Joanne and I had a deal about decor and design of the condo before we occupied it. If she would make all the decisions I'd fulfill the role of saying, "Atta girl", "good choice", "I love it", etc. That's what we did and it worked beautifully.
Each day the mail brings cards and letters from family and friends. These, too, warm my heart as I read of people and events, remembering with love and gratitude their connection, both to Joanne, and to me. It was our custom to read them together so we could comment on what was said and the pictures provided. Naturally, it is now joy mixed with poignant presence of absence. In our Golden Valley house Joanne always put the pictures on the glass door from kitchen to deck. Here in the condo she put them on the kitchen side of the entrance door, a practice I continue. Each time I exit the condo I pause to peruse the pictures, and as I do, fill with gratitude for these relationships...relationships which sustained me in the darkest days of life in the land of grief and continue to buoy me. Yes, I'm blessed!
Takk for alt.
Al
PS As I think about what I just wrote above, it strikes me that now the cards, letters and greetings mean even more, living as I am in the land of grief.
Each day the mail brings cards and letters from family and friends. These, too, warm my heart as I read of people and events, remembering with love and gratitude their connection, both to Joanne, and to me. It was our custom to read them together so we could comment on what was said and the pictures provided. Naturally, it is now joy mixed with poignant presence of absence. In our Golden Valley house Joanne always put the pictures on the glass door from kitchen to deck. Here in the condo she put them on the kitchen side of the entrance door, a practice I continue. Each time I exit the condo I pause to peruse the pictures, and as I do, fill with gratitude for these relationships...relationships which sustained me in the darkest days of life in the land of grief and continue to buoy me. Yes, I'm blessed!
Takk for alt.
Al
PS As I think about what I just wrote above, it strikes me that now the cards, letters and greetings mean even more, living as I am in the land of grief.
Thursday, December 19, 2019
On a lighter note...
Now that friends pass on their copies of The Reader's Digest to me I've found the column It Pays to Increase Your Word Power helpful. While the words are often basic they provide material for my volunteer work at Noble Academy. The Hmong students, about 75% of the student body, have rather limited vocabularies because their parents are English language learners who do not have generations of speaking English behind them. The multiple choice format is useful as I teach vocabulary to my students.
Then, there's Reader's Digest's monthly Humor in Uniform page. It's to this page I'm contemplating a submission. Let me try it out here to see if readers think it might make R.D.
When I was in Marine Boot Camp in San Diego, our platoon was assigned a week of mess duty (KP in Army speak). While I was serving food the discipline platoon, for recruits in trouble, came through the line. I asked one recruit why he was in discipline. He said "I have leg problems." Incredulous I asked, "You're being disciplined for leg problems?" "Yes" he said "they keep running away."
What's your take? Is it worth sending to R.D?
Watching TV is not in my repertoire of gifts...it's just not something I've mastered. There are a few sporting events I do watch. Tonight the Minnesota Gopher's Volleyball team is playing in the NCAA Final Four. They meet Stanford at 8:30, and the winner will go to the championship game to play the winner of the match between Baylor and Wisconsin who are playing at 6:00,. A full evening of volleyball accounts for an early post of this blog.
Takk for alt
Al
PS Marine' and Navy' Boot Camps in San Diego were separated by a chain link fence. A Navy recruit, with leg problems 😃, attempting to run away ended up on our (Marine) side of the fence. Likely he didn't do that again.
Then, there's Reader's Digest's monthly Humor in Uniform page. It's to this page I'm contemplating a submission. Let me try it out here to see if readers think it might make R.D.
When I was in Marine Boot Camp in San Diego, our platoon was assigned a week of mess duty (KP in Army speak). While I was serving food the discipline platoon, for recruits in trouble, came through the line. I asked one recruit why he was in discipline. He said "I have leg problems." Incredulous I asked, "You're being disciplined for leg problems?" "Yes" he said "they keep running away."
What's your take? Is it worth sending to R.D?
Watching TV is not in my repertoire of gifts...it's just not something I've mastered. There are a few sporting events I do watch. Tonight the Minnesota Gopher's Volleyball team is playing in the NCAA Final Four. They meet Stanford at 8:30, and the winner will go to the championship game to play the winner of the match between Baylor and Wisconsin who are playing at 6:00,. A full evening of volleyball accounts for an early post of this blog.
Takk for alt
Al
PS Marine' and Navy' Boot Camps in San Diego were separated by a chain link fence. A Navy recruit, with leg problems 😃, attempting to run away ended up on our (Marine) side of the fence. Likely he didn't do that again.
Wednesday, December 18, 2019
Story
"That's my story and I'm sticking with it," has become something of a catch phase. Doing a bit of sorting and filing, long overdue, I came across the following...have I used it before?...can't remember. It comes from Melissa Townsend, producer of Native Indian News and my daughter-in-law.
"All that we are is story. From the moment we are born to the time we continue our spirit journey, we are involved in the creation of the story of our time here. It is what we arrive with. It is all we leave behind. We are not the things we accumulate. We are not the things we deem important. We are story. All of us. What comes to matter then is the creation of the best possible story we can while we'er here; you, me, us, together. When we can do that and we take the time to share those stories with each other we get bigger inside, we see each other, we recognize our kinship-we change the world, one story at a time..." Richard Wagamese, Ojibwe from Wabeseemoong Independent Nation, Canada
With the "after" of Joanne's death I've been posting my story on this site. Because we're in it together fellow travelers in the land of grief add their pieces to this story in comments, emails and conversations. All of us are grieving with various levels of intensity and in ebbs and flows. Twenty plus months after Joanne's death my grief remains but with a different level of intensity.
Takk for alt,
Al
Reminder: A will is important to determine the distribution of assets after death because the state has a will for you should you not have done your own. However, another instrument, such as a trust, is necessary to avoid the time and cost of probate. Consult a qualified estate planner.
"All that we are is story. From the moment we are born to the time we continue our spirit journey, we are involved in the creation of the story of our time here. It is what we arrive with. It is all we leave behind. We are not the things we accumulate. We are not the things we deem important. We are story. All of us. What comes to matter then is the creation of the best possible story we can while we'er here; you, me, us, together. When we can do that and we take the time to share those stories with each other we get bigger inside, we see each other, we recognize our kinship-we change the world, one story at a time..." Richard Wagamese, Ojibwe from Wabeseemoong Independent Nation, Canada
With the "after" of Joanne's death I've been posting my story on this site. Because we're in it together fellow travelers in the land of grief add their pieces to this story in comments, emails and conversations. All of us are grieving with various levels of intensity and in ebbs and flows. Twenty plus months after Joanne's death my grief remains but with a different level of intensity.
Takk for alt,
Al
Reminder: A will is important to determine the distribution of assets after death because the state has a will for you should you not have done your own. However, another instrument, such as a trust, is necessary to avoid the time and cost of probate. Consult a qualified estate planner.
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
Another perspective on grief.
FOR GRIEF
Adam O'Donahue
When you lose someone you love,
Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you gets fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice
down
Where words have no confidence.
Your heart has grown heavy with
loss;
And though this loss has wounded
others too,
No one knows what has been taken
from you
When the silence of absence deepens.
Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or
undone.
There are days when you wake up
happy;
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.
Days when you have your heart back,
You are able to function well
Until in the middle of work or
encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.
It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to
itself.
More than you, it knows its way
And will find the right time
To pull and pull the rope of grief
Until that coiled hill of tears
Has reduced to its last drop.
Gradually, you will learn
With the invisible form of your
departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From that gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.
Takk for alt
Al
Monday, December 16, 2019
Recommended Reading!
This is a recommendation without a question mark. Kristine gave Lisa, Hannah Coulter, Wendell Berry, a novel. It's a bit unusual because it is in the form of a reflection of a woman, Hannah Coulter, who is remembering her life from the perspective of her seventies. In previous blogs I quoted from the book. It was a quite poignant read for me. Hannah reminded me a bit of my mother, the change in farming resonates with my experience and I, too, think back over the decades I remember and the people who inhabited those times.
Lisa passed the book off to me saying "I want you to read this, I think you will like it." Like it I did and am willing to recommend it with no caveat. Berry's philosophy shines through, which is thought with which I agree. It is not a new book, copyrighted in 2004, so likely some readers of this blog have read it. If so I hope to read their reactions to it.
Reading is one of the joys of my life. Tonight I was telling a friend my memory of my parents spending their evenings in rocking chairs, on opposite sides of the dining room table, reading. What wonderful role models they were for me.
Takk for alt,
Al
Lisa passed the book off to me saying "I want you to read this, I think you will like it." Like it I did and am willing to recommend it with no caveat. Berry's philosophy shines through, which is thought with which I agree. It is not a new book, copyrighted in 2004, so likely some readers of this blog have read it. If so I hope to read their reactions to it.
Reading is one of the joys of my life. Tonight I was telling a friend my memory of my parents spending their evenings in rocking chairs, on opposite sides of the dining room table, reading. What wonderful role models they were for me.
Takk for alt,
Al
Sunday, December 15, 2019
...and no picture!
The Little House brings me several gifts. Its proximity to Joanne's grave is one of those gifts. A place to share with family is another as I experience with Lisa this weekend. Connection with family is still another. Last night ten of us gathered for dinner at a venue in Brookings. There were four in my generation and six in the next. Convening the troops has fallen to me and yesterday I recruited my niece, Nancy, to assist. There was lively conversation, many laughs and good food BUT no pictures were taken!
In today's economy, with the ubiquitous smart phone camera, one wonders if the event actually happened without a picture to record it? No shots of plates of food, no pics uploaded to Facebook, nothing posted on any site...was it real? Not even a selfie nor a pose of the table by the waitress...obviously we aren't with it.
Don Evenson commented on my post last night. The cemetery where Joanne is buried is ringed with a beautiful row of fir trees. They replace a row of ponderosa pine which were planted about 1900 and aged out. Don's father, the late Harold Evenson and the late Charles Langum planted the fir and faithfully watered them until they were well established. It was a labor of love as they were working as volunteers and I'm deeply grateful to them Both Harold and Charles are now buried in the cemetery on which they worked so hard.
Takk for alt,
Al
In today's economy, with the ubiquitous smart phone camera, one wonders if the event actually happened without a picture to record it? No shots of plates of food, no pics uploaded to Facebook, nothing posted on any site...was it real? Not even a selfie nor a pose of the table by the waitress...obviously we aren't with it.
Don Evenson commented on my post last night. The cemetery where Joanne is buried is ringed with a beautiful row of fir trees. They replace a row of ponderosa pine which were planted about 1900 and aged out. Don's father, the late Harold Evenson and the late Charles Langum planted the fir and faithfully watered them until they were well established. It was a labor of love as they were working as volunteers and I'm deeply grateful to them Both Harold and Charles are now buried in the cemetery on which they worked so hard.
Takk for alt,
Al
 |
| Notice the trees in the background which circle the cemetery. |
Saturday, December 14, 2019
Denizen of the cemetery!
Tom is at it again and, as he sent me the quote below, he said "Let me guess, it will show up on your blog." Right you are, Tom, because you send such good material. Thanks!
from City of Girls by
Elizabeth Gilbert:
"This is what I've found about
life, as I've gotten older: you start to lose people.... It's not that there is
ever a shortage of people - oh, heavens, no. It is merely that - as the
years pass - there comes to be a terrible shortage of your people.
The ones you loved. The ones who knew the people that you both
loved. The ones who know your whole history."
Right on, Elizabeth! " there comes to be a terrible shortage of your people. The ones you loved. The ones who knew the people that you both loved. The ones who know your whole history."
Readers of this blog may recall how I've reflected on the grief of lost history in bereavement. With Mary Hatlestad's death as an example; I'm not aware of any others who were on the staff at First Lutheran, Sioux Falls, simultaneous with us. So now there is no one with whom I can reminisce about those days and who can respond to my memories in a knowledgeable way.
Every time I come to The Little House I visit Joanne's grave. Often I do not stop there but wander among the graves remembering many others whom I knew, I a denizen of the cemetery. Admittedly my high school graduating class was tiny, eight of us, but half have died. One of my classmates, now dead, shared 12 years of school with me.
One of my first Christmas cards, with a picture, was from Tillie, age 106. She was making snow angels when she was 100! Think of all loved ones she's lost? Fortunately her two children survive. "...there comes to be a terrible shortage of your people." Yes there does, so let us cherish with new appreciation those who are still with us.
Takk for alt,
Al
Friday, December 13, 2019
"The spirit is willing but the........"
Let me guess where your mind went with the title of this blog "The spirit is willing but the flesh weak." Nope, that is NOT where this is going. After the funeral yesterday Lisa and I drove to The Little House On The Prairie. There's not a lot of snow here but it's come over several different
times. Between the snows the weather has warmed to the melting point, putting a crust on the snow which lies just below the most recent fall. Consequently, every step requires pressing through the crust, and, though the snow's not deep, it makes walking challenging.
Lisa and I plunged into the first field full of vim, vigor and vitality. Though we admired the beautiful stand of big bluestem grass, the growth of the cedars in the tree rows and the weedy food plot, we were happy to return to the truck with our pheasant. Revived by a short drive to another field we were seduced by the benign appearance of the pretty snow lying next to the cattails. After busting toward the middle of the field I was forced to admit "The spirit is willing but the legs are weak." Big learning; don't judge the difficulty of a walk from the confines of a truck.
What was our reward? Beautiful winter scenery on a snow covered frosty morning, good exercise, the view of multiple birds making their escape, several deer including a spike buck, one bird in the bag, time together and hearty appetites.
Takk for alt,
Al
times. Between the snows the weather has warmed to the melting point, putting a crust on the snow which lies just below the most recent fall. Consequently, every step requires pressing through the crust, and, though the snow's not deep, it makes walking challenging.
Lisa and I plunged into the first field full of vim, vigor and vitality. Though we admired the beautiful stand of big bluestem grass, the growth of the cedars in the tree rows and the weedy food plot, we were happy to return to the truck with our pheasant. Revived by a short drive to another field we were seduced by the benign appearance of the pretty snow lying next to the cattails. After busting toward the middle of the field I was forced to admit "The spirit is willing but the legs are weak." Big learning; don't judge the difficulty of a walk from the confines of a truck.
What was our reward? Beautiful winter scenery on a snow covered frosty morning, good exercise, the view of multiple birds making their escape, several deer including a spike buck, one bird in the bag, time together and hearty appetites.
Takk for alt,
Al
 |
| At Mary's funeral: Sam Hatlestad, Al, Kent Stillson & Don Gaarder. |
 |
| With Trygve, |
Thursday, December 12, 2019
Mary Hatlestad, March 21, 1934--December 7, 2019
, Sitting down next to Arley Fadness at the lunch after Mary's funeral I said "Do you know Al Negstad? I hear he's here." Arley said "Yes, I do, who are you? I said "Al Negstad." That's when he hit me, before we had a good chat.
The funeral, huge for, an eighty-five year old, was ably conducted by a pastor, Kent Stillson, I've known since he was a camp counselor at Camp Metigoshe about 30 years ago. Seated next to Bishop Norm Eitriem, whom I've known since 1965, we compared notes on life after the death of a spouse. Doris Rye, was there with her husband, Pastor Kermit. It was Doris who decided not to go to Holden Village with the young adult group in 1963, whose place Joanne took. She likes to claim credit, rightly, for bringing Joanne and I together. During the lunch Kent asked me it I knew the congregation's community coordinator, Twila? "Yes, " I said, "She's my cousins granddaughter." And...so it went.
Sam, Mary's spouse served 6 Lutheran Parishes in South Dakota and as interim pastor in many more after his retirement. It was apparent that Mary and Sam are remembered by those congregations with deep love and respect. Mary is buried at the Toronto Cemetery, Toronto, S.D., near her childhood home. Now Sam, too. dwells in the land of grief.
All of these people were known by Joanne as they all knew her. In addition to the grief of Mary's death it's times like this when the presence of absence is acute. At least I wish I could report who I saw and the conversations.
Takk for alt,
Al
The funeral, huge for, an eighty-five year old, was ably conducted by a pastor, Kent Stillson, I've known since he was a camp counselor at Camp Metigoshe about 30 years ago. Seated next to Bishop Norm Eitriem, whom I've known since 1965, we compared notes on life after the death of a spouse. Doris Rye, was there with her husband, Pastor Kermit. It was Doris who decided not to go to Holden Village with the young adult group in 1963, whose place Joanne took. She likes to claim credit, rightly, for bringing Joanne and I together. During the lunch Kent asked me it I knew the congregation's community coordinator, Twila? "Yes, " I said, "She's my cousins granddaughter." And...so it went.
Sam, Mary's spouse served 6 Lutheran Parishes in South Dakota and as interim pastor in many more after his retirement. It was apparent that Mary and Sam are remembered by those congregations with deep love and respect. Mary is buried at the Toronto Cemetery, Toronto, S.D., near her childhood home. Now Sam, too. dwells in the land of grief.
All of these people were known by Joanne as they all knew her. In addition to the grief of Mary's death it's times like this when the presence of absence is acute. At least I wish I could report who I saw and the conversations.
Takk for alt,
Al
Wednesday, December 11, 2019
Integrity and creativity
Elisa
Zwier, writes in an Advent devotional.
"In my “one step forward, two
steps back” movement between fear and hope, I find the work of Episcopal priest
Rev. Alla Renée Bozarth (1994) insightful:
'“Being able to fully face the
reality of your loss depends on the balance between personal integrity and
creativity. Integrity looks at something and says, what is, is. Creativity
looks at something and asks, what new thing can come from this?”'
Tom, was kind enough to forward this (above) to me.
"Integrity looks at something and says, what is, is. Creativity looks at something and asks, what new thing can come from this?”
INTEGRITY: From the time Joanne was in hospice, through her death and after I have tried to live in the reality, painful as it was and is. "...what is, is...." Of course I didn't like it, nor do I still but denial just did not seem an option. This decision has served me well and has aided my recovery abd was very conscious.
CREATIVITY: Now, about 20th months into life in the land of grief, I can recognize creativity. It came as a response to my perceived need. There was no moment when I thought "Oh, now I must be creative. " It was more a matter of "Now,what do I do?" When I perceived a need and.acted it was creative and energized by the recognition of a new reality.
Joanne was famous for staying in touch with family and friends. It was a very significant factor in who she was. Testimony to this character of hers was the out pouring of affirmation that she received in her last days,
In contrast, I was never particularly good at staying connected. Even with family and friends I'd frequently withdraw to my inner self. When Joanne died I decided that she had been correct all along, that staying in touch was valuable. Additionally, she was no longer available to do the connecting nor as a verbal, relational partner for me.
Since her death I have worked hard at being present and at staying in touch. Joanne would likely be surprised and certainly pleased in this change, which could be labeled 'creative.' It was made meaningful because my family and friends are so worth the investment. Life is good!
Takk for alt,
Al
INTEGRITY: From the time Joanne was in hospice, through her death and after I have tried to live in the reality, painful as it was and is. "...what is, is...." Of course I didn't like it, nor do I still but denial just did not seem an option. This decision has served me well and has aided my recovery abd was very conscious.
CREATIVITY: Now, about 20th months into life in the land of grief, I can recognize creativity. It came as a response to my perceived need. There was no moment when I thought "Oh, now I must be creative. " It was more a matter of "Now,what do I do?" When I perceived a need and.acted it was creative and energized by the recognition of a new reality.
Joanne was famous for staying in touch with family and friends. It was a very significant factor in who she was. Testimony to this character of hers was the out pouring of affirmation that she received in her last days,
In contrast, I was never particularly good at staying connected. Even with family and friends I'd frequently withdraw to my inner self. When Joanne died I decided that she had been correct all along, that staying in touch was valuable. Additionally, she was no longer available to do the connecting nor as a verbal, relational partner for me.
Since her death I have worked hard at being present and at staying in touch. Joanne would likely be surprised and certainly pleased in this change, which could be labeled 'creative.' It was made meaningful because my family and friends are so worth the investment. Life is good!
Takk for alt,
Al
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
Erroneous impression?
The Caring Bridge phase of my blog began with Joanne's illness and continued to her death and is still happening. Consequently, I've focused heavily on grief, my own, others and reactions to grief. Now, about 20 month's after Joanne's death I continue to live in the land of grief, however, that life is very different than it was earlier in the journey. Seldom, now, am I brought to tears. While I miss Joanne it's more of an ache rather than stabbing pain.
Today a friend said that the impression of my situation gained from the blog is in contrast to the way I come across in person. Reading my blog gives the impression of me as more melancholy than I'm experienced in person. This leads me to wonder if I've inadvertently given an erroneous impression of my situation.
While life divided at Joanne's death, today I'm mostly happy, serene and fully engaged with life. Every day I think of her and one of the gifts of remaining in "our" condo is that it is filled with reminders of her. For example every time I use the toaster I think of her as I replace the cover...leaving it off was one of her pet peeves. If this blog has given a false impression of my well being I'm sorry.
So, life is good, the sorrow is in her missing it and us sharing it.
Takk for alt,
Al
Today a friend said that the impression of my situation gained from the blog is in contrast to the way I come across in person. Reading my blog gives the impression of me as more melancholy than I'm experienced in person. This leads me to wonder if I've inadvertently given an erroneous impression of my situation.
While life divided at Joanne's death, today I'm mostly happy, serene and fully engaged with life. Every day I think of her and one of the gifts of remaining in "our" condo is that it is filled with reminders of her. For example every time I use the toaster I think of her as I replace the cover...leaving it off was one of her pet peeves. If this blog has given a false impression of my well being I'm sorry.
So, life is good, the sorrow is in her missing it and us sharing it.
Takk for alt,
Al
Monday, December 9, 2019
Grief everywhere...in the press.
With my new(er) sensitivity I find grief everywhere...in the press, Friends pass their copies of The Reader's Digest to me. Opening the December/January issue I found this article:
"How to Help a Friend Grieve: as a psychotherapist, she thought she knew all the tools for dealing with loss. Then her partner died." The article goes on to report how poorly prepared she was for his death, drowning at age 40, and how unhelpful many responses were to her. PP. 26-29. The author Megan Devine writes, "It's not that people around us meant to be cruel; they just didn't know how to be truly helpful. Like many grieving people, we stopped talking about our pain to friends and family. It was easier to pretend everything was fine than continually defend and explain grief to those who couldn't understand."
It's a good article and I'm pleased to see it in Reader's Digest where it will receive wide exposure. Personally, my response to it is one of gratitude. Family and friends have been helpful to me and very little has been said or done that is downright helpful. If I could wish for one thing it would be even more spontaneous references to Joanne. Usually when someone does mention her I learn something new about her.
The family was present Saturday to help me decorate for Christmas, the second year of this new tradition. For the first time since 1964 I will not participate in sending a Christmas letter to family and friends. However, I am certainly grateful when I receive them.
Takk for alt,
Al
"How to Help a Friend Grieve: as a psychotherapist, she thought she knew all the tools for dealing with loss. Then her partner died." The article goes on to report how poorly prepared she was for his death, drowning at age 40, and how unhelpful many responses were to her. PP. 26-29. The author Megan Devine writes, "It's not that people around us meant to be cruel; they just didn't know how to be truly helpful. Like many grieving people, we stopped talking about our pain to friends and family. It was easier to pretend everything was fine than continually defend and explain grief to those who couldn't understand."
It's a good article and I'm pleased to see it in Reader's Digest where it will receive wide exposure. Personally, my response to it is one of gratitude. Family and friends have been helpful to me and very little has been said or done that is downright helpful. If I could wish for one thing it would be even more spontaneous references to Joanne. Usually when someone does mention her I learn something new about her.
The family was present Saturday to help me decorate for Christmas, the second year of this new tradition. For the first time since 1964 I will not participate in sending a Christmas letter to family and friends. However, I am certainly grateful when I receive them.
Takk for alt,
Al
Sunday, December 8, 2019
"If you love, you grieve..."
Naturally I noticed this heading '"If you love, you grieve,'Lynch says, "and there are no exceptions.'" in the BOOKS, Section P.E11, of December 8, 2019, Star Tribune. Kevin Canfield reviews a new book by Thomas Lynch, The Depositions. Lynch is a funeral director who has written several books. Lynch wrote "Mourning is a romance in reverse, and if you love, you grieve and there is no exceptions."
Matthew 5:4 "Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted." "Grief is the human emotion that comes with loss, and mourning is the expression of that loss, i.e., those who express their grief shall be comforted" so said my spiritual director when we last met.
"Mourning is romance in reverse" "mourning is the expression of that loss" are ideas that bear serious reflection.
In the summer of 1963 I made a housing transition from one basement apartment to another. Leaving the basement of Victor and Emma Halvorson's building, I moved into an apartment in First Lutheran Church, Sioux Falls. First Lutheran is a large downtown church and for my senior year of college I was resident night watchman and assistant custodian which made me a colleague of Mary Hatlestad, nee Quam. Mary was parish secretary. In 1964 Mary married Sam Hatlestad about a month before Joanne and I married. We remained in touch through the years though did not have much time together.
When Joanne died Sam made a special point of befriending me. Sometimes the bereaved are ghosted, i.e., abandoned. Sam in an example of my experience of the opposite, friends who have "taken me under their wing" in my grief. If Sam was present to his parishioners as he has been to me he was an excellent pastor. With Mary's death yesterday it is my turn to care for him.
Takk for alt,
Al
Matthew 5:4 "Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted." "Grief is the human emotion that comes with loss, and mourning is the expression of that loss, i.e., those who express their grief shall be comforted" so said my spiritual director when we last met.
"Mourning is romance in reverse" "mourning is the expression of that loss" are ideas that bear serious reflection.
In the summer of 1963 I made a housing transition from one basement apartment to another. Leaving the basement of Victor and Emma Halvorson's building, I moved into an apartment in First Lutheran Church, Sioux Falls. First Lutheran is a large downtown church and for my senior year of college I was resident night watchman and assistant custodian which made me a colleague of Mary Hatlestad, nee Quam. Mary was parish secretary. In 1964 Mary married Sam Hatlestad about a month before Joanne and I married. We remained in touch through the years though did not have much time together.
When Joanne died Sam made a special point of befriending me. Sometimes the bereaved are ghosted, i.e., abandoned. Sam in an example of my experience of the opposite, friends who have "taken me under their wing" in my grief. If Sam was present to his parishioners as he has been to me he was an excellent pastor. With Mary's death yesterday it is my turn to care for him.
Takk for alt,
Al
Saturday, December 7, 2019
I'm fine!
Lisa laughs at all the times my response to her question "How are you?" is "I'm fine." Wendell Berry's Hannah Coulter, in his novel by the same name says;
"I need to tell about my people in their grief. I don't think grief is something they get over or get away from. In a little community like this it is around us and in us all the time and we know it. We know that every night, war or no war, there are people lying awake grieving, and every morning there are people waking up to absences that never will be filled. But we shut our mouths and go ahead. How we are is "Fine." There are a few who will recite their complaints, but the proper answer to "How are you?" is "Fine."
"The thing you most dreaded has happened at last. The worst thing you might have expected has happened and you didn't expect it. You have grown old and ill, and most of those you have loved are dead or gone away. Even so"
"How're you?"
"Fine. How're you/"
"Fine.'" P.61
Yes, this is how I was raised and I've said "Fine" countless times. And, sometimes, that's fine. :)
Mary Hattlestad, my friend, died today. We worked together in 1963-64, before either of us were married. Since Joanne's death Mary's husband,Sam, has been a great comfort to me. Now I'll try to return the support. I'll soon write more about the time Mary and I worked together. Rest in peace, Mary, good and faithful servant.
Takk for alt,
Al
"I need to tell about my people in their grief. I don't think grief is something they get over or get away from. In a little community like this it is around us and in us all the time and we know it. We know that every night, war or no war, there are people lying awake grieving, and every morning there are people waking up to absences that never will be filled. But we shut our mouths and go ahead. How we are is "Fine." There are a few who will recite their complaints, but the proper answer to "How are you?" is "Fine."
"The thing you most dreaded has happened at last. The worst thing you might have expected has happened and you didn't expect it. You have grown old and ill, and most of those you have loved are dead or gone away. Even so"
"How're you?"
"Fine. How're you/"
"Fine.'" P.61
Yes, this is how I was raised and I've said "Fine" countless times. And, sometimes, that's fine. :)
Mary Hattlestad, my friend, died today. We worked together in 1963-64, before either of us were married. Since Joanne's death Mary's husband,Sam, has been a great comfort to me. Now I'll try to return the support. I'll soon write more about the time Mary and I worked together. Rest in peace, Mary, good and faithful servant.
Takk for alt,
Al
Friday, December 6, 2019
Ambiguous grief.
All grief is grief, yet, there are griefs I have not experienced. The loss of a child is difficult for me to imagine. It makes sense to me that ambiguous grief, e.g., grief without a body, has a special pain all of its own. Hannah Coulter, the narrator in Wendell Berry's novel, Hannah Coulter, experienced such grief when her husband went 'missing in action' in the Battle Of The Bulge in WW II, never to be found.
Hannah Coulter is speaking:
"I began to know my story then. Like everybody's, it was going to be the story of living in the absence of the dead. What is the thread that holds it all together? Grief, I thought for awhile. And grief is there sure enough, just about all the way through. From the time I was a little girl I have never been far from it. But grief is not a force and has no power to hold. You only bear it. Love is what carries you, for it is always there, even in the dark, or most in the dark, but shining out at times like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery....And so I have to say that another of the golden threads is gratitude.
"All through that bad time, when Virgil's absence was wearing into us, when 'missing' kept renaming itself more and more insistently as 'dead' and 'lost forever,' I was yet grateful. Sometimes I was grateful because I knew I ought to be, sometimes because I wanted to be, and sometimes a sweet thankfulness came to me on its own, like a singing from somewhere out in the dark." PP 51-52.
Life is full of losses both large and small, so life is filled with grief but grief is not what we are, it's what we feel. We are called to be loving and grateful. While we live with the presence of absences, note thee plural, in the land of grief we can be loving and grateful. "Grief ...has no power to hold. You only bear it."
Takk for alt,
Al
Hannah Coulter is speaking:
"I began to know my story then. Like everybody's, it was going to be the story of living in the absence of the dead. What is the thread that holds it all together? Grief, I thought for awhile. And grief is there sure enough, just about all the way through. From the time I was a little girl I have never been far from it. But grief is not a force and has no power to hold. You only bear it. Love is what carries you, for it is always there, even in the dark, or most in the dark, but shining out at times like gold stitches in a piece of embroidery....And so I have to say that another of the golden threads is gratitude.
"All through that bad time, when Virgil's absence was wearing into us, when 'missing' kept renaming itself more and more insistently as 'dead' and 'lost forever,' I was yet grateful. Sometimes I was grateful because I knew I ought to be, sometimes because I wanted to be, and sometimes a sweet thankfulness came to me on its own, like a singing from somewhere out in the dark." PP 51-52.
Life is full of losses both large and small, so life is filled with grief but grief is not what we are, it's what we feel. We are called to be loving and grateful. While we live with the presence of absences, note thee plural, in the land of grief we can be loving and grateful. "Grief ...has no power to hold. You only bear it."
Takk for alt,
Al
Thursday, December 5, 2019
Perspective
April 12, 2018, the day Joanne died, is a dividing line in my life. With her death, and the ensuing grief, I gained a radically new perspective. When in print I see the word 'grief' I'm drawn as a moth to a flame. Lisa gave me Wendell Berry's 2004 novel, Hannah Coulter, commenting that she thought I'd enjoy it. Tonight, in the quiet of The Little House, opposite Joanne's chair, I began to read and was quickly engaged.
The novel is in the form of a monologue by Hannah Coulter in her seventies, reflecting back over her life. On page seven:
"The year I was twelve my mother died. She took the flu and then pneumonia, and then, almost before we could think that she might die, she was dead. By her grave, when we brought her there, there was a heap of snow on one side and a heap of dirt on the other.
"And so I learned about grief, and about the absence and emptiness that for a long time make grief unforgettable. We went on, the three of us remaining, as we had to do. In all the practical ways we managed fine. Grandmam was still a vigorous woman, as she would be for years yet. My father, though seriously damaged by his loss for awhile at least, was capable and a master of making do. I was big enough then to do a woman's part, and I did it. But we had a year when even to look at one another would make us grieve."
Prior to Joanne's death I would have read this with hardly another thought. With the perspective of life in the land of grief, living with the presence of absence, I read it existentially, "Yes, that is MY experience." "I learned...about the absence and emptiness that for a long time make grief unforgettable." And I say "Yay and verily."
There's another line in the book that especially resonated with me. "When you are old you can look back and see yourself when you were young." P. 31. How true that is and, what was confusing at the time, often makes sense with the perspective of time...hindsight you know.
Takk for alt,
Al
The novel is in the form of a monologue by Hannah Coulter in her seventies, reflecting back over her life. On page seven:
"The year I was twelve my mother died. She took the flu and then pneumonia, and then, almost before we could think that she might die, she was dead. By her grave, when we brought her there, there was a heap of snow on one side and a heap of dirt on the other.
"And so I learned about grief, and about the absence and emptiness that for a long time make grief unforgettable. We went on, the three of us remaining, as we had to do. In all the practical ways we managed fine. Grandmam was still a vigorous woman, as she would be for years yet. My father, though seriously damaged by his loss for awhile at least, was capable and a master of making do. I was big enough then to do a woman's part, and I did it. But we had a year when even to look at one another would make us grieve."
Prior to Joanne's death I would have read this with hardly another thought. With the perspective of life in the land of grief, living with the presence of absence, I read it existentially, "Yes, that is MY experience." "I learned...about the absence and emptiness that for a long time make grief unforgettable." And I say "Yay and verily."
There's another line in the book that especially resonated with me. "When you are old you can look back and see yourself when you were young." P. 31. How true that is and, what was confusing at the time, often makes sense with the perspective of time...hindsight you know.
Takk for alt,
Al
Wednesday, December 4, 2019
Obituaries
There's an old saw that maintains that the difference between neurosis and psychosis is that in psychosis we don't know what is real while in neurosis we know what is real it just makes us mad (or maybe sad). If that definition holds I suspect I'm more neurotic than psychotic.
How old I was when I began reading obituaries I don't remember but, I do now, and suspect I'm not alone. Living Lutheran, a publication of the Evangelical Lutheran Church publishes obituaries of pastors and other church workers who have died. The December 2019, issue had an obituary for a pastor I knew; Lee Wesley, age 86. In 2009 Joanne and I accompanied Ed and Mary Jane to San Diego to mark 50 years since Ed and I were there in Marine Boot Camp. San Diego boasts the largest outdoor organ in the world and there are concerts with this instrument on Sunday afternoons. Joanne wanted to hear the organ so we attended the concert. After the concert we were pleased to see Lee Wesley, who was wintering in San Diego.
We knew Lee because, when Joanne was CEO of Lutheran Services in America,(LSA), Lee was Executive Director of Lutheran Community Services, New York, a member agency of LSA. This was the last time either of us saw Lee.
All the above is prelude to telling of my reaction when I saw Lee's obituary. My first thought was "now there's one less person in the world who remembers Joanne." Gradually Joanne's legacy is fading. Fewer persons remember her and their memories of her become less distinct. Which brings me to my neurosis; I recognize that inevitable reality, which makes me more sad than mad. This fading is the way of all that is temporal...but I don't have to like it!
Comfort comes in remembering the myriad who called her "role model" and "mentor" believing that Joanne's influence continues to be felt in the world through those who fell under her influence. So, as I live with presence of absence in the land of grief, I cling to the belief that Joanne lives through many others.
Takk for alt,
Al
How old I was when I began reading obituaries I don't remember but, I do now, and suspect I'm not alone. Living Lutheran, a publication of the Evangelical Lutheran Church publishes obituaries of pastors and other church workers who have died. The December 2019, issue had an obituary for a pastor I knew; Lee Wesley, age 86. In 2009 Joanne and I accompanied Ed and Mary Jane to San Diego to mark 50 years since Ed and I were there in Marine Boot Camp. San Diego boasts the largest outdoor organ in the world and there are concerts with this instrument on Sunday afternoons. Joanne wanted to hear the organ so we attended the concert. After the concert we were pleased to see Lee Wesley, who was wintering in San Diego.
We knew Lee because, when Joanne was CEO of Lutheran Services in America,(LSA), Lee was Executive Director of Lutheran Community Services, New York, a member agency of LSA. This was the last time either of us saw Lee.
All the above is prelude to telling of my reaction when I saw Lee's obituary. My first thought was "now there's one less person in the world who remembers Joanne." Gradually Joanne's legacy is fading. Fewer persons remember her and their memories of her become less distinct. Which brings me to my neurosis; I recognize that inevitable reality, which makes me more sad than mad. This fading is the way of all that is temporal...but I don't have to like it!
Comfort comes in remembering the myriad who called her "role model" and "mentor" believing that Joanne's influence continues to be felt in the world through those who fell under her influence. So, as I live with presence of absence in the land of grief, I cling to the belief that Joanne lives through many others.
Takk for alt,
Al
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
Reading, recommended?
This is one of those books I'm glad I read, depressing as it was, for again, I learned a lot. The biggest take away? the stupidity of war. Frozen Hell: The Russo-Finnish winter War of 1939-40. Helsinki, 10:30 A.M., November 30, 1939. Soviet bombers drop from a cloud bank to unload their bombs on the capital city of Finland. In the weeks to come the world will watch admiringly as the tiny army of a small Baltic republic wages the kind of war that inspires legends against the military might of the Soviet Union. A forgotten war, until now. William R. Trotter Russian
The central thrust of the book describes the horrible blood shed that cost ca., 220,000 Russian lives and ca. 65,000 Finnish deaths. Had the Finn's acceded to Russian demands for accommodations to protect Leningrad it all could have been avoided and the Finns would have lost less territory. Finland could also have avoided "The Continuation War" when they joined Nazi Germany to again fight Russia. When Finland sues for peace it's at the least moment before Russia was poised ton conquer all of Finland.
A fascinating section of the book reports the machinations of France and Britain who attempted to foist the conflict with Germany off on Norway and Sweden. Had Finland appealed to these two countries for help late in the war France and Britain had plans to use that as pretext to seize Sweden's nickle mines that were supplying Germany. This they hoped would shift hostilities away from France and Britain. The Finns never request help and the plotters were soon voted out of office.
It's a very readable, if depressing book, and a valuable addition to the historical record. For the reader inclined to celebrate the destruction of "enemy forces" it's dehumanizing. Whole Russian Army companies drowned in frozen lakes, which is just one example of the terrible suffering in this war.
Takk for alt,
Al
The central thrust of the book describes the horrible blood shed that cost ca., 220,000 Russian lives and ca. 65,000 Finnish deaths. Had the Finn's acceded to Russian demands for accommodations to protect Leningrad it all could have been avoided and the Finns would have lost less territory. Finland could also have avoided "The Continuation War" when they joined Nazi Germany to again fight Russia. When Finland sues for peace it's at the least moment before Russia was poised ton conquer all of Finland.
A fascinating section of the book reports the machinations of France and Britain who attempted to foist the conflict with Germany off on Norway and Sweden. Had Finland appealed to these two countries for help late in the war France and Britain had plans to use that as pretext to seize Sweden's nickle mines that were supplying Germany. This they hoped would shift hostilities away from France and Britain. The Finns never request help and the plotters were soon voted out of office.
It's a very readable, if depressing book, and a valuable addition to the historical record. For the reader inclined to celebrate the destruction of "enemy forces" it's dehumanizing. Whole Russian Army companies drowned in frozen lakes, which is just one example of the terrible suffering in this war.
Takk for alt,
Al
Monday, December 2, 2019
Who owns an illness?
It's too facile to answer, "who owns an illness?" by simply saying that person in whose body it resides. That would imply that a person owes nothing to anyone but himself/herself. Such a position would be difficult to defend except perhaps for a nihilist. Does one owe it to loved ones to exercise reasonable self-care which includes prompt medical attention? If one is the complete owner of his/her illness then what others need doesn't matter. Yet, must not the bearer of an illness have primary ownership of it?
In the Books Section. p.E11, of the December 1, 2019, Star Tribune is a review of the book Passing: A Memoir of Love and Death, Michael Korda, reviewed by Laurie Hertzel. Laurie writes,
"Those of us who are members of that enormous, sad club--the club of people who lost loved ones to cancer--will find much that resonates in Michael's new book.
"....'Passing' is the memoir of a man who stuffs himself with facts and information about brain tumors and cancer in hopes that knowledge will help him get through the anguish of watching his beautiful wife die. But there is no antidote to anguish.
"The word 'beautiful' is important here. Beauty was one of Margaret Korda's defining characteristics, one of the things she valued most about herself....Tall lithe and blond, Margaret--a former model--discovered a small irregular spot on her face and was pretty sure she knew what it was; her husband had recently undergone treatment for malignant melanoma, treatment that left a divot in his skull.
"But what if surgery left a divot in Margaret's lovely, high-cheekboned face? She chose to cover the spot with makeup and put it out of her mind. For years. By the time she could no longer ignore it, the cancer had metastasized to her brain, and this is where the deeply sad story of 'Passing' begins"
As Korda lives in the land of grief will Margaret's denial haunt him? Did she owe it to him to seek prompt medical treatment, at the expense of her looks, so they could have more time together? Might she have lived a long life, albeit with disfigurement? Was she correct is acting as it he were her issue? Herzel in review does not raise this issue, rather focusing on Korda's grief which is similar to so many others.
"Who owns an illness?" My answer is, while the bearer has a compelling interest, others; family, friends, the wider community also have ownership. Living in the land of grief, as I do, I am comforted that Joanne and I were on the same page with her illness, treatment and decision to enter hospice. This means that I am not left with "I wish she would have..." It is one less complication in my grieving.
Takk for alt,
Al
In the Books Section. p.E11, of the December 1, 2019, Star Tribune is a review of the book Passing: A Memoir of Love and Death, Michael Korda, reviewed by Laurie Hertzel. Laurie writes,
"Those of us who are members of that enormous, sad club--the club of people who lost loved ones to cancer--will find much that resonates in Michael's new book.
"....'Passing' is the memoir of a man who stuffs himself with facts and information about brain tumors and cancer in hopes that knowledge will help him get through the anguish of watching his beautiful wife die. But there is no antidote to anguish.
"The word 'beautiful' is important here. Beauty was one of Margaret Korda's defining characteristics, one of the things she valued most about herself....Tall lithe and blond, Margaret--a former model--discovered a small irregular spot on her face and was pretty sure she knew what it was; her husband had recently undergone treatment for malignant melanoma, treatment that left a divot in his skull.
"But what if surgery left a divot in Margaret's lovely, high-cheekboned face? She chose to cover the spot with makeup and put it out of her mind. For years. By the time she could no longer ignore it, the cancer had metastasized to her brain, and this is where the deeply sad story of 'Passing' begins"
As Korda lives in the land of grief will Margaret's denial haunt him? Did she owe it to him to seek prompt medical treatment, at the expense of her looks, so they could have more time together? Might she have lived a long life, albeit with disfigurement? Was she correct is acting as it he were her issue? Herzel in review does not raise this issue, rather focusing on Korda's grief which is similar to so many others.
"Who owns an illness?" My answer is, while the bearer has a compelling interest, others; family, friends, the wider community also have ownership. Living in the land of grief, as I do, I am comforted that Joanne and I were on the same page with her illness, treatment and decision to enter hospice. This means that I am not left with "I wish she would have..." It is one less complication in my grieving.
Takk for alt,
Al
Sunday, December 1, 2019
On giving...
"In a letter to his mother in 1750, (I was just a boy 😊) Benjamin Franklin caught her up on what he was doing. 'I read a great deal, ride a little, do a little Business for myself, more for others; retire when I can, and go (into) the Company when I please; so the Years roll around, and the last will come; when I would rather have it said, He lived usefully, than He died rich.'" Quoted by Chris Farrell in an article in the Star Tribune, December 1, 2019, P. D5, the article entitled Giving is the key to living usefully. Ferrell writes, "The difficult question is how to stay focused on what matters when earning and managing our money. The answer lies with putting giving at the core of household finances...."
When Joanne was raising money for charitable causes, with persons of some resources, she advocated the "additional child" approach. She encouraged persons to do their estate planning and include a charitable bequest as if there was another child in the family. So, a couple with two children would divide their estate in thirds; a third to each child and a third to charity.
Much has been written and said about the secret of 'the meaning of life." Mostly it's been wasted breath and newsprint. The meaning of life is so simple it hides in plain sight :the meaning of life is giving. Fascinating isn't it, that it shows up on the Business Page of the paper authored by a financial planner?
Takk for alt,
Al
When Joanne was raising money for charitable causes, with persons of some resources, she advocated the "additional child" approach. She encouraged persons to do their estate planning and include a charitable bequest as if there was another child in the family. So, a couple with two children would divide their estate in thirds; a third to each child and a third to charity.
Much has been written and said about the secret of 'the meaning of life." Mostly it's been wasted breath and newsprint. The meaning of life is so simple it hides in plain sight :the meaning of life is giving. Fascinating isn't it, that it shows up on the Business Page of the paper authored by a financial planner?
Takk for alt,
Al
Saturday, November 30, 2019
If at first you don't succeed, maybe you'll get the prize on second try!
A true story about not giving up.
"It's the birthday of Canadian children's writer L.M. Montgomery,
(books by this author) born Lucy Maud
Montgomery in Clifton, Prince Edward Island, in 1874. Her mother died when she
was a toddler, and her father sent her to live with her mother's parents. There
were no other children around, just Lucy and her grandparents, and she spent a
lot of time reading and writing poems. She left home for a few years to teach,
but when her grandfather died, she came home to live with her grandmother, and
she stayed with her for the next 13 years. And during that time, she wrote her
first novel, about an orphan girl with bright red hair who gets sent to live
with a couple from Prince Edward Island who were hoping for a boy instead. It
got rejected over and over, so she put the manuscript away in a hatbox and
turned to other things. But eventually, she got it back out, read it, decided
it wasn't that bad after all, and sent it out again. This time it got accepted,
and in 1908, Anne of Green Gables was
published and became a classic children's book."
from today's Writer's Almanac.
College took me two tries and as I've written previously that turned out much to my benefit. High school in no way prepared me for college. After five unsuccessful quarters at South Dakota State College I transferred to Augustana College. While, that semester at Augie was academically satisfactory, I still had no vocational direction. That's when I enlisted in the Marines.
With one successful semester at Augustana re-enrolling after my discharge was easy. In the summer of my second year there I met Joanne, and the rest is history. How different my life would have been had succeeded in my first college attempt. Much of life can only be understood in the rear view mirror! Perhaps I should write a litany thanking God for failure. 😀
Takk for alt,
Al
College took me two tries and as I've written previously that turned out much to my benefit. High school in no way prepared me for college. After five unsuccessful quarters at South Dakota State College I transferred to Augustana College. While, that semester at Augie was academically satisfactory, I still had no vocational direction. That's when I enlisted in the Marines.
With one successful semester at Augustana re-enrolling after my discharge was easy. In the summer of my second year there I met Joanne, and the rest is history. How different my life would have been had succeeded in my first college attempt. Much of life can only be understood in the rear view mirror! Perhaps I should write a litany thanking God for failure. 😀
Takk for alt,
Al
Friday, November 29, 2019
Mystery
"It's the birthday of the writer who said: "When I was ten, I read fairy
tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now
that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish
things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown
up." That's C.S. Lewis, (books by this author) born in Belfast
(1898), the author of the seven-volume children's series The Chronicles of Narnia, which
begins with The Lion, the Witch and the
Wardrobe (1950), the story of four children sent away from
London because of wartime air raids. He also said, "Someday you will be
old enough to start reading fairy tales again."
Besides fairy tales and children's classics, he wrote
theological books, including The
Screwtape Letters (1942), a novel in which a demon writes to
his nephew; and The Great Divorce (1945),
where residents of hell take a bus ride to heaven, and Mere Christianity (1952), based on
talks he gave on the BBC during World War II.
C.S. Lewis said,
"Miracles are a retelling in small letters of the very same story which is
written across the whole world in letters too large for some of us to see." Today's Writer's AlmanacIsn't that a sweet quote from Lewis? "...letters too large for us to see...." So much of what is outside of what I expect passes me by. Will I ever learn to be open to what is in front of me? "When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up." 😊
On a much lighter note: the American Kennel club has come up with a much better way of comparing a dog's life to that of a human. One issue is the relative length of life for dogs depending on their size. Using the formula below Trygve, the wonder dog, appears to be 64 in human terms. This makes sense of my observation. He hunts as hard as ever but not as long and needs more time to recuperate. I don't hunt as hard........
- 15 human years equals the first year of a medium-sized dog’s life.
- Year two for a dog equals about nine years for a human.
- And after that, each human year would be approximately five years for a dog.
Takk for alt,
Al
Thursday, November 28, 2019
Snow "fall"?
There are those who have tired of my posting on Facebook "Snow sure is pretty from the 15th floor." Now, why would anyone tire of hearing that? So I wondered as I sat at breakfast and saw snow going horizontally past my window. When, as a child, I saw New England pictures of snow piled on fence posts I thought to my self "naw, snow always comes sideways" because that was my experience of prairie snow. Snow going horizontally past my window is something to which I can relate.
The recent storm left something like 9" of snow but is accurate to say snow "fall"? Well, I suppose it has to land someplace. There's a saying among farmers contemplating spraying their fields on a windy day "it has to land someplace." This would also be true of the snow streaking past my window, "it has to land some place." thus, I suppose it is snow "fall" even though that seems a misnomer to me. And, yes, blowing, falling, blowing and falling, or having fallen, it is pretty from the 15th floor...so there!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING to you all. It was another fine family gathering, which Joanne would have loved. Not only was it Thanksgiving but also Charlie's birthday and she loved both Thanksgiving and birthdays...both fit in with her love of live and abundant gratitude. The hardest part for me was coming home alone but that's life in the land of grief.
Takk for alt,
Al
See, it is pretty!
The recent storm left something like 9" of snow but is accurate to say snow "fall"? Well, I suppose it has to land someplace. There's a saying among farmers contemplating spraying their fields on a windy day "it has to land someplace." This would also be true of the snow streaking past my window, "it has to land some place." thus, I suppose it is snow "fall" even though that seems a misnomer to me. And, yes, blowing, falling, blowing and falling, or having fallen, it is pretty from the 15th floor...so there!
HAPPY THANKSGIVING to you all. It was another fine family gathering, which Joanne would have loved. Not only was it Thanksgiving but also Charlie's birthday and she loved both Thanksgiving and birthdays...both fit in with her love of live and abundant gratitude. The hardest part for me was coming home alone but that's life in the land of grief.
Takk for alt,
Al
Wednesday, November 27, 2019
The elephant in the room!
"What we did Friday night, if you want
to know
"Friday was a dark day
though we didn’t talk about it because we had dinner with two young newlyweds
and a friend who recently lost her husband, so we kept it light....
"It was a happy dinner party. The young wife is French and we got talking
about American colloquialisms and she was fascinated by “don’t throw the baby
out with the bathwater” and “easy as pie” for which she offered “mettre les
doigts dans le nez,” (sticking fingers up the nose), meaning: no big deal,
nothing to brag about." Garrison Keillor
Keillor mentions in another paragraph he'd recently at lunch with the friend who died. "It was a happy dinner party." No need to be tiresome and acknowledge the pain or the grief of the widow...let's just be happy and gay and never mind about the widow, recently thrust into the land of grief.
How often is the bereaved, the new, or long term, denizen of the land of grief, ignored with her/his grief over the departed the "elephant hiding in the room?' "We kept it light..." How was the widow feeling as she left? Did she want her beloved mentioned, her beloved who had presided at the wedding of the young couple? Who get's to decide that it should be kept light? Would the widow be spoil sport if she brought up the death of her husband?
Such are my thoughts as I read this article from Keillor.
Takk for alt,
Al
Tuesday, November 26, 2019
Roots
Thursday we'll gather for Thanksgiving at my son's place in S. Minneapolis. Thanksgiving falls on November 28, this year, and that will be the 90th anniversary of my parent's wedding. They were married in 1929 at my mother's parent's house on Carter Ave., in the St. Anthony Park area of St. Paul. Mother's father presided at the wedding, on a bitterly cold day.
Their wedding was a month after the huge stock market crash and my father lost a significant sum when the banks closed. He'd been fairly affluent for a South Dakota farmer. He purchased his first car in 1914, an Overland, later 1919(?) a Buick touring car and then a 1928 Model A, Ford. This was the car they took on a two month honeymoon to Washington, D.C. and on down the coast to South Carolina. In Chicago they stayed at the Palmer House. In spite of his loss he did not scrimp on the honeymoon. With the depression settling in, the mid-west drought years, and four children born in the thirties this would be my parents last trip for many years.
Ironically the house of my grandparents on Carter Ave, which.was purchased by my aunt and uncle, was only a block from Joanne's parent's home on Como Ave. That's how my cousin Louise and Joanne were childhood friends.
Here's wishing you all a Happy Thanksgiving and of course we can never be too thankful. Much of what I'm thankful for is the blessings of good parents and family.
Takk for alt,
Al
Their wedding was a month after the huge stock market crash and my father lost a significant sum when the banks closed. He'd been fairly affluent for a South Dakota farmer. He purchased his first car in 1914, an Overland, later 1919(?) a Buick touring car and then a 1928 Model A, Ford. This was the car they took on a two month honeymoon to Washington, D.C. and on down the coast to South Carolina. In Chicago they stayed at the Palmer House. In spite of his loss he did not scrimp on the honeymoon. With the depression settling in, the mid-west drought years, and four children born in the thirties this would be my parents last trip for many years.
Ironically the house of my grandparents on Carter Ave, which.was purchased by my aunt and uncle, was only a block from Joanne's parent's home on Como Ave. That's how my cousin Louise and Joanne were childhood friends.
Here's wishing you all a Happy Thanksgiving and of course we can never be too thankful. Much of what I'm thankful for is the blessings of good parents and family.
Takk for alt,
Al
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