A Remembrance, Judie and Jim Elmquist, 2023

August 1963-June 1965

It just came to us as Judie and I were talking about the beginning of our marriage…and how it is much like the lives of many others…how it is a strange and twisting path we all follow…and how our lives are changed by all the experiences of that path…

I am not going to describe how we met, in the late summer of 1961, in front of Feld’s Store in Golden Valley, Minnesota…me in my 1953 green Ford flat-head six…let’s just leave that for another time…but it was a wonderful meeting, we didn’t know it at the time, but it was wonderful…and that meeting, as well as this part of our story, gives meaning to the phrase I found one day in rural Montana, 22 miles West of Billings at Molt, Montana…it was and is, a mostly deserted small town where we had a great breakfast and listened to live Western music as we ate breakfast that Saturday morning…I read this phrase on the bulletin board of that restaurant…it was a newspaper article about John and Grace Leuthold who lived near Molt, and had been married 71 years…”Love becomes devotion,” John said. “That’s what we have.”…

DAN BURKHART/Gazette staff John and Grace Leuthold, who live near Molt, have been married 71 years. “Love becomes devotion,” John said. “That’s what we have.”

John’s comment begins for us with love, of course, but somehow developed into devotion…and that comes with experience and experiences in life…that is what I want to share in those first few years of our marriage…we are on our way toward our 60^th year of marriage and I can agree with John and Grace that early love over the years becomes devotion…solidified by years of experience and experiences we have had…

We were 21 in 1963…So let me start with August 3, 1963, we were married in Big Rapids, Michigan…I was still in college, in fact I had about 2 years left at the time…I had a two year degree from the University of Minnesota in my pocket, and after we married we planned to move to Mankato, Minnesota, about 85 miles South of Minneapolis to finish a teaching degree…Judie and I had planned the move…we stayed with my Grandparents for about a month before we moved to Mankato…we were both working so we decided to work those few weeks before we left…we rented a truck and put in all our earthly possessions for the move…we moved into a very small basement apartment, with the “arms” of an old furnace in an old house…Judie was not too happy with that arrangement and after a few months we would move to a newer, bigger and more accommodating walk-out basement apartment, in North Mankato…

 We both worked, Judie at the telephone company and me at a local grocery store…in November 1963 we lived through the assassination of President Kennedy, the reaction to which reminds me of what 9/11 felt like so many years later…on a cold February morning in 1964, we were driving up to Minneapolis to visit, we were in an accident on the freeway in South Minneapolis…an elderly driver made an abrupt left turn to cross a maintenance road to the other side of the freeway, we hit him and though our car was a new 1963 Chevrolet, seatbelts where not yet required, so Judie and a friend who was with us went through the windshield…not really through it but broke the glass and they came down on the broken glass…it was as bad as you can imagine…ambulance and blood and all the rest…Judie and her friend were in the hospital for immediate surgery and then plastic surgery…it was the kind of thing that is life-changing and disrupting of jobs, school and everything else…

We were 22 in 1964…So 1964 started, as we always said, with the car accident and soon after with Judie being pregnant…a busy first year of marriage…as the year went on, our landlords decided to build a new house just down the block from their present home…they told us they wanted us to move with them, because they would build an apartment in the walkout basement…that was okay with us…so another change in our lives when the building of their house would take longer than they planned…we had to move out so the new owners could move in our present house…we moved all our belongings to two different friends garages…what would we have done without our church family…

Some friends from church, Pete and JoAnn Yaeger offered a bedroom at their farm in Mapleton, about 22 miles South of Mankato…we lived out of our car for about a month while the apartment was being finished…we helped finish the apartment…and in the meantime I went to school and Judie babysat for a friend of ours…our day was something like this: left the farm early to drive to the home where Judie babysat…we carried our clothes in car…and food in a cooler…I went to classes and picked Judie up and helped at the house for a while…then off to eat supper somewhere…sometimes at the farm when they asked us to eat with them…but mostly it was on our own…drive the 22 miles, most days it was after dark…then to bed and in the morning it started all over again…the apartment was finished in time for Jay to be born, November 22, 1964…we settled into our new surroundings…

We were 23 in 1965…The winter of 1965 was a tough winter in Minnesota…there were many days of no school, so much snow…which later would bring a lot of concern to everyone in Minnesota…1965 is still a record that is talked about every year since…there was so much snow and warnings of flooding was everywhere…and it became reality very soon that spring…there was record flooding and danger of our apartment flooding…the Minnesota River which flows through Mankato was at a record level…I was involved in the sandbagging of the river…classes at the college were called off so students could help sandbag…we sandbagged the bridges so they could be like levees against the flood…houses were floating down the river as we sandbagged…it was dangerous…Judie was home alone with Jay and was rightly afraid of the flood…in fact they ordered us to evacuate our apartment…our church family helped us to move during the emergency…our things ended up in two different garages on higher ground, and when we were told we had to leave, Gary and Carmen Schimpp offer for us to stay with them until the emergency was over…we moved back to our apartment, and when the Spring Quarter was over, we decided to move back to Minneapolis because we both had jobs there…

I had one class to finish in Summer School…it would complete my teaching degree so I could graduate right after Summer session…and my teaching job in Michigan was in the offing…it meant that I would have to come back to Mankato every day for a little over a month to complete the class…we had visited Croswell, Michigan for a job interview a few weeks before and had the job when we completed my classroom work…so one very muddy evening we trudged back and forth from our basement apartment to the rental trailer and drive back to North Minneapolis to the apartment we rented there…we both had jobs, Judie was working at the Billy Graham offices in downtown Minneapolis and I was working at M.L. Gordon Sash and Door in St. Louis Park…I had worked there off and on since I graduated from high school…Judie had worked at Billy Graham in college…so all was familiar to each of us…

Judie was now pregnant for Jared and Jay was babysat by a neighbor Judie had met…a friend picked her up for work and I had to get up early for a 85 mile drive to my class in Mankato, about 1 ½ hour drive…I would get up about 5:00 and drive non-stop to Mankato…then after class, jump in the car and drive 85 miles to my job at Gordon’s, work until about 4:00…then home to our apartment in North Minneapolis…Judie would have something for me to eat…play with Jay some…change clothes (shirt and tie) and off to Brookdale (a shopping center) to work from 6:00 until 10:00…I worked at Sears in the paint department…then home to bed and do it all over again, the next day…you may say, you were guys were crazy…Yup, you are right, but we were young, excited to be done with school and visions of a new job in a new place…and we felt we were following the Lord’s leading us, still do…and it was only for 4 or 5 weeks…

We finished the course and graduated in July of 1965…we worked until we needed to move to Croswell, Michigan…we had met with our new landlords when we were there for our interview…Irving Dingman…he was a farmer and though he and his wife didn’t live on the farm, he still farmed it…it was a two story furnished home and that he had remodeled, in fact he would add an upstairs bathroom in our second year there…he and his wife like many people we met became like parents to us…we didn’t have a dime to speak of, when we arrived there…didn’t even have money for our first month’s rent…one of the toughest things I ever had to do is go to Mr. Dingman and asked him if he could wait until our first paycheck to get paid for the first month…he said it wasn’t a problem…but the next day or so, I had to ask him for a loan of $5.00 so we could buy baby formula…he reached for his billfold and asked if that was enough…he was going to give me more…I told him I was embarrassed enough to ask him this much…he told me “There’s more where that came from.”…he is a hero of ours…what a great lesson in living for a young couple…

We consider those years, the beginning years of our marriage…tough, but good years…financially hard but it was going to be that way the whole way, so why not get used to it…but the beauty of those years was the spiritual growth…and the ability of trusting the God who is in control of it all…what a great time for us to live…what a wonderful time we had during those years…I will now finish with a brief flourish of our history before all our kids come on the scene, Jess and Jeremy…and to show how God was preparing, as He does with all of us, for what would come when Jeremy’s tumor was discovered…

We were in Michigan the fall of 1965 through spring of 1968…age 24, 25, 26…Our time in Michigan was a great learning experience, both for teaching but also for life…we loved all those we met there and our Pastor and his family are still wonderful friends…Jared was born March 1, 1966…and later Jess was born in October 19, 1967…our landlord’s told us their son was moving back to the farm, we would have to look elsewhere for housing…we decided to move back to Minneapolis…

We were 26 when we moved back to Minnesota spring of 1968…We moved into my Grandparents house and I worked at Gordon’s and I served as an interim pastor at a small church nearby…

The following year, 1969 we were 27…I got a job teaching at Coon Rapids High School, I worked for them a little over 30 years…we moved to a rental house in Champlin Minnesota…and Judie began working with Tupperware and did so until she retired…

We were 28 in 1970…Jeremy was born May 6, 1970…we certainly did not expect what was coming…but as we look back, we had been in training all our lives…

We were 29 in 1971…Jeremy turned one…we moved into the first home we ever owned in Andover, Minnesota…and after 10 moves or so, we got to settle down and lived there for 38 years…

We were 30 in 1972…by the end of the year, Judie had taken Jeremy to the doctor and they had admitted him into the hospital…and he had surgery for the brain tumor they discovered on January 15, 1973…we were both 30…Jay was 8, Jared was 6 and Jess was 5…we were now in a race that would start as a sprint, but would quickly become a marathon…  

I Took My Mom To Lunch…

Mother’s Day is this weekend…I will post this as I did last year…and try to do every year, in honor of my Mom…I wrote this years ago…April 2006, it was over a year after Mom died, but I had to “get it down” so I wouldn’t forget it…enjoy and if possible call your Mom…it will make her day…as my Mom did mine, on the day I describe below:

                                           

“Something reminded me this morning about taking my Mom to lunch…who knows how memories are jarred loose in our minds…but this morning this memory randomly arrived…

It has been only a little over a year since Mom passed away…but most of the memories of those days are still fresh…I know they won’t always be, so I decided this one I would write down before it becomes irretrievable…that happens to all of us as time goes by and other experiences take over…this lunch happened a few years ago…after Mom’s stroke and after Dad died, but before Mom slipped away from all of us…she was handicapped by some of the remnants of her stroke but still lucid enough to remember things of the past…she still knew everyone, though sometimes she called me “George” (her husband, my Dad)…and though she knew that wasn’t quite right, we both just let it go…it really didn’t matter to me and it was okay with her to let it go…just seemed like too much work for her to change it after it came out…if you don’t know what I mean, you will soon enough…

That day Mom had a doctor’s appointment…and so I picked her up…and off we went…first to her appointment, then to lunch…I really hadn’t planned to go to lunch but Mom was so “with it” that day…we talked and laughed as we drove along…she was so enjoying the ride, she commented how she would just like to keep driving…so I drove passed things that she would remember, pointed out things that were changing…she was so interested…she was always interested in what her boys thought and were interested in…that had not changed…I often wondered if that was real…was she as interested as she seemed???…I never could see anything to make me feel otherwise…and that day it was more than usual…it was a high point in these last years of her life…

I asked her if she wanted something to eat, “My treat”, I said…she laughed and said let’s go somewhere easy…I knew what she meant, she had lots of trouble getting in and out of the car…”Where do you want to go?”, I asked her…she didn’t know…so I made some suggestions…and she picked the one with the golden arches, she wanted some French fries…and of course, a drive-thru…I knew one not far away and we drove slowly to get there, talking along the way…we got our meal and parked behind the McDonald’s…so let me paint the picture…behind us was one of the busiest roads in the north suburbs of Minneapolis…but in front of us was a large swamp (called a wetlands today) and we were parked on some of the fill that had been put there to build the McDonald’s and paved…there were still piles of fill beyond where we parked…it was a warm sunny day…cattails waved far into the distance…birds flew here and there…the small willow trees along the bank moved to the motion of the wind…and here I was with my Mom…just talking, eating…sharing French fries…me watching to see if she needed help…it was perfect…

We talked of things she remembered, of things she wanted to talk about…I told her how much she meant to me…she waved it off as she often did…and talked of times past…her folks, my grandparents…she loved them…and now in her 80′s, she still honored them…they, like the rest of us were not perfect, but to her and to me…that didn’t matter, both of us agreed how wonderful they were…she remembered the days of her youth, before all this…and all that was before her…we laughed and some tears were shed…but overall it was a wonderful time…right there overlooking that beautiful swamp…

It’s a picture I will always remember (now bear with me)…from 50 or 100 feet above…do you see it???…looking down you see a McDonald’s, next to a busy highway…and behind a large swamp…and there behind the McDonald’s…right there in the parking lot…an old white Buick and inside…can you see them???…a son and his Mom, he in his 60′s, her in her 80′s…eating, talking, crying and laughing…but enjoying for one of the very last times, each other…

She was and is in my memory…loved and honored…”

December is a wonderful time of year…though, as I remember when I was young, many things happened in December that were hard…I can remember the thought of how can we have Christmas when all this sadness is going on…I guess I thought that other months of the year didn’t bring on as much loss as December did…I was wrong of course, but it was a true feeling I had when I was young…

 

This morning (12/19/15) when I picked up Our Daily Bread, a daily devotion I use everyday, there was an interesting and helpful story that relates to that feeling…called “The Seventh Stanza”…it is about the America poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and what is now a Christmas Carol called “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”…he titled

his poem at the time “Christmas Bells”…it later was set to music…the short article was historically interesting as well as the message of the poem…read the link to this “Our Daily Bread”…then the entire poem, including the stanzas about the Civil War, which was still being fought as he wrote…it will give new meaning to “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day”…and the great expectation and hope that still remains for all of us during difficult times…

 

http://odb.org/2015/12/19/the-seventh-stanza/

 

 

“Christmas Bells”
(The original poem, complete with all seven stanzas)

“I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said;
“For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!”

 

I have a collection of Christmas stories…and I want you to read just one of them…I just love this story…and think you will too…this is “Delayed Delivery” by Cathy Miller, you may have read it before…it is in many books and on the internet…and there are different versions of the story…meaning, they have edited out some parts here and there, but I like this one the best…it first appeared in a 1992 Christmas story contest for a Canadian newspaper, “The Northern Life”…and reprinted in a collection of Christmas stories called “Christmas In My Heart” volume 2, by Joe L. Wheeler…he has edited many volumes of “Christmas In My Heart”…I have bought a few of them…and would recommend them to you…they are available on Amazon.com and other places…

This is longer than my normal posts, hard as that is to believe…but true…it will take you a few minutes to read…but well worth reading…so sit back, relax and enjoy…I think this story will touch your heart…even if you have read it before…Merry Christmas…

Delayed Delivery by Cathy Miller

There had never been a winter like this, Stella watched from the haven of her armchair as gusts of snow whipped themselves into a frenzy. She feared to stand close to the window, unreasonably afraid that somehow the blizzard might be able to reach her there, sucking her, breathless, out into the chaos. The houses across the street were all but obliterated by the fury of windborne flakes. Absently, the elderly woman straightened the slipcovers on the arms of her chair, her eyes glued to the spectacle beyond the glass.

Dragging her gaze away from the window, she forced herself up out of her chair and waited a moment for balance to reassert itself. Straightening her back against the pain that threatened to keep her stooped, she set out determinedly for the kitchen.

In the doorway to the next room she paused, her mind blank, wondering what purpose had propelled her there. From the vent above the stove the scream of the wind threatened to funnel the afternoon storm directly down into the tiny house. Stella focused brown eyes on the stovetop clock. The three-fifteen time reminded her that she had headed in there to take something out of the freezer for her supper. Another lonely meal that she didn’t feel like preparing, much less eating.

Suddenly, she grabbed the handle of the refrigerator and leaned her forehead against the cold, white surface of the door as a wave of self-pity threatened to drown her. It was too much to bear, losing her beloved Dave this summer! How was she to endure the pain, the daily nothingness? She felt the familiar ache in her throat and squeezed her eyes tightly shut to hold the tears at bay.

Stella drew herself upright and shook her head in silent chastisement. She reiterated her litany of thanks. She had her health, her tiny home, an income that should suffice for the remainder of her days. She had her books her television programs, her needlework. There were the pleasures of her garden in the spring and summer, walks through the wilderness park at the end of her street, and the winter birds that brightened the feeders outside her kitchen picture window. Not today though, she thought ruefully, as the blizzard hurled itself against the eastern wall of the kitchen.

“Ah, Dave, I miss you so! I never minded storms when you were here,” The sound of her own voice echoed hollowly in the room. She turned on the radio that stood on the counter next to a neatly descending row of wooden canisters. A sudden joyful chorus of Christmas music filled the room, but it only served to deepen her loneliness.

Stella had been prepared for her husband’s death. Since the doctor’s pronouncement of terminal lung cancer, they had both faced the inevitable, striving to make the most of their remaining time together. Dave’s financial affairs had always been in order. There were no new burdens in her widowed state. It was just the awful aloneness…the lack of purpose to her days.

They had been a childless couple. It had been their choice. Their lives had been full and rich. They had been content with busy careers, and with each other.

They had had many friends. Had. That was the operative word these days. It was bad enough losing the one person you loved with all your heart. But over the past few years, she and Dave repeatedly had to cope with the deaths of their friends and relations. They were all of an age…the age when human bodies began giving up…dying. Face it…they were old!

And now, on this first Christmas without Dave, Stella would be on her own. Mable and Jim had invited her to spend the holiday with them in Florida, but somehow that had seemed worse than staying at home alone. Not only would she miss her husband, but she would miss the snow, and the winter and the familiarity of her home.

With shaky fingers, she lowered the volume of the radio so that the music became a muted background. She glanced toward the fridge briefly, then decided that a hot bowl of soup would be more comforting fare this evening.

To her surprise, she saw that the mail had come. She hadn’t even heard the creak of the levered mail slot in the front door. Poor mailman, out in this weather! “Neither hail, nor sleet…” With the inevitable wince of pain, she bent to retrieve the damp, white envelopes from the floor. Moving into the living room, she sat on the piano bench to open them. They were mostly Christmas cards, and her sad eyes smiled at the familiarity of the traditional scenes and at the loving messages inside. Carefully, her arthritic finger arranged them among the other clustered on the piano top. In her entire house, they were the only seasonal decoration. The holiday was less than a week away, but she just did not have the heart to put up a silly tree, or even set up the stable that Dave had built with his own hands.

Suddenly engulfed by the loneliness of it all, Stella buried her lined face in her hands, lowering her elbows to the piano keys in a harsh, abrasive discord, and let the tears come. How would she possible get through Christmas and the winter beyond it? She longed to climb into bed and bury herself in a cocoon of blankets, not emerging until her friends and spring returned.

The ring of the doorbell echoed the high-pitched, discordant piano notes and was so unexpected that Stella had to stifle a small scream of surprise. Now who could possibly be calling on her on a day like today? Wiping her eyes, she noticed for the first time how dark the room had become. The doorbell sounded a second time.

Using the piano for leverage, she raised herself upright and headed for the front hall, switching on the living room light as she passed. She opened the wooden door and stared through the screened window of the storm door in consternation. On her front porch, buffeted by waves of wind and snow, stood a strange, young man, whose hatless head was barely visible above the large carton in his arms. She peered beyond him to the driveway, but there was nothing about the small car to give clue to his identity. Returning her gaze to him, she saw that his hands were bare and his eyebrows had lifted in an expression of hopeful appeal that was fast disappearing behind the frost forming on the glass. Summoning courage, the elderly lady opened the door slightly and he stepped sideways to speak into the space.

“Mrs. Thornhope?”

She nodded affirmation, her extended arm beginning to tremble with cold and the strain of holding the door against the wind. He continued, predictably, “I have a package for you.”

Curiosity drove warning thoughts from her mind. She pushed the door far enough to enable the stranger to shoulder it and stepped back into the foyer to make room for him. He entered, bringing with him the frozen breath of the storm. Smiling, he placed his burden carefully on the floor and stood to retrieve an envelope that protruded from his pocket. As he handed it to her, a sound came from the box. Stella actually jumped. The man laughed in apology and bent to straighten up the cardboard flaps, holding them open in an invitation for her to peek inside. She advanced cautiously, then turned her gaze downward.

It was a dog! To be more exact, a golden Labrador retriever puppy. As the gentleman lifted its squirming body up into his arms, he explained, “This is for you, ma’am. He’s 6 weeks old and completely housebroken.” The young pup wiggled in happiness at being released from captivity and thrust ecstatic, wet kisses in the direction of his benefactor’s chin. “We were supposed to deliver him on Christmas Eve,” he continued with some difficulty, as he strove to rescue his chin from the wet little tongue, “But the staff at the kennels start their holidays tomorrow. Hope you don’t mind an early present.”

Shock had stolen her ability to think clearly. Unable to form coherent sentences, she stammered, “But…I don’t…I mean…who…?”

The young fellow set the animal down on the doormat between them and then reached out a finger to tap the envelope she was still holding.

“There’s a letter in there that explains everything, pretty much. The dog was bought last July while her mother was still pregnant. It was meant to be a Christmas gift. If you’ll just wait a minute, there are some things in the car I’ll get for you.”

Before she could protest, he was gone, returning a moment later with a huge box of dog food, a leash, and a book entitled Caring for Your Labrador Retriever. All this time the puppy had sat quietly at her feet, panting happily as his brown eyes watched her.

Unbelievably, the stranger was turning to go. Desperation forced the words from her lips. “But who….Who bought it?”

Pausing in the open doorway, his words almost snatched away by the wind that tousled his hair, he replied, “Your husband, ma’am.” And then he was gone.

It was all in the letter. Forgetting the puppy entirely at this sight of the familiar handwriting, Stella had walked like a somnambulist to her chair by the window. Unaware that the little dog had followed her, she forced tear-filled eyes to read her husband’s words. He had written it three weeks before his death and had left it with the kennel owners to be delivered along with the puppy as his last Christmas gift to her. It was full of love and encouragement and admonishments to be strong. He vowed that he was waiting for the day when she would join him. And he had sent her this young animal to keep her company until then.

Remembering the little creature for the first time, she was surprised to find him quietly looking up at her, his small panting mouth resembling a comic smile. Stella put the pages aside and reached down for the bundle of golden fur. She thought that he would be heavier, but he was only the size and weight of a sofa pillow. And so soft and warm. She cradled him in her arms and he licked her jawbone, then cuddled up into the hollow of her neck. The tears began anew at this exchange of affection and the dog endured her crying without moving.

Finally, Stella lowered him to her lap, where he regarded her solemnly. She wiped vaguely at her wet cheeks, then somehow mustered a smile.

“Well, little guy, I guess it’s you and me.” His pink tongue panted in agreement. Stella’s smile strengthened and her gaze shifted sideways to the window. Dusk had fallen, and the storm seemed to have spent the worst of its fury. Through fluffy flakes that were now drifting down at a gentler pace she saw the cheery Christmas lights that edged the roof lines of her neighbor’s homes. The strains of “Joy to the World” wafted in from the kitchen.

Suddenly Stella felt the most amazing sensation of peace and benediction washing over her. It was like being enfolded in a loving embrace. Her heart beat painfully, but it was with joy and wonder, not grief or loneliness. She need never feel alone again. Returning her attention to the dog, she spoke to him, “You know, fella, I have a box in the basement that I think you’d like. There’s a tree in it and some decorations and lights that will impress you like crazy! And I think I can find that old stable down there, too. What d’ya say we go hunt it up?” The puppy barked happily in agreement, as if he understood every word.

Independence Day Parade…A Small Town Parade…I Love That…

 

This blog is from July 2011…I read it again, what a wonderful memory…some of you may have been to a parade on July 4th…but there are fewer of them than in the past…enjoy this one…hope you had a wonderful 4th and thanked God for our freedom…

In my previous post I put a letter from John Adams to his wife, Abigail…you can go back and read that post if you wish…but let me give you just a part of what I put in that post…it will give you the direction I will go with this bit of Independence Day celebration I have for you…“I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shew, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more. You will think me transported with Enthusiasm but I am not. I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means.”…I have left John Adams differences in writing of that time…but it is the heart of the letter that I want to talk about today…to start, I want to ask you a question…when was the last time you went to an Independence Day/July 4th parade???…for some of you…you never miss…for others it is more a “day off” that is celebrated…and that’s okay too…but a parade…a parade…Oh, come on, a parade…there is nothing like a parade…and an Independence Day parade, that is special…

John Adams put it this way at the signing of the Declaration of Independence, before the War for Independence…he put it this way in his letter to Abigail…“I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated, by succeeding Generations, as the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shew, Games, Sports, Guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.”…this was before the Revolutionary War…before as he put it, “the blood, toil and treasure it will cost us”…but though there was much to go through, he knew that this was a great thing…and what it would mean to the future of this country…and he knew that we would always want to celebrate it…and so we have, and so we will…we will do it this weekend…my flags are out…and looking for a parade…there must be one an “old guy” can go to and enjoy…

I remember growing up in the 1950’s…my Dad was just back from his time in the Navy during WWII…he belonged to the American Legion…and they were always in our local parade…every small town seems to have a parade…I have been to many over the years…and when I was young we went to see my Dad march in the parade…they would lead the parade with the flag and march out front…I have a picture of my Dad and the color guard one July 4th parade in the ’50’s…now where is it???…Oh, here ya go…he is the one with the white shirt on…I think he was the commander of the post that year…thus the white shirt and his place in the parade…so I remember those parades in Golden Valley, Minnesota…and they happened in every little town and city across the land…and it happens in many towns today too…

Before we moved to Arkansas we went to a little town in western Minnesota for their Independence Day Celebration…more about that later…but it is still happening there today…one of our sons and his family lived in Prinsburg, Minnesota for a little while…and we went out there (about a three hour trip west, from the Minneapolis area)…Prinsburg is a farming community…with farms right up to the city limits…a beautiful area…population 497, so it does meet the criteria to be a small town…(see Google Earth picture)…if you are unfamiliar with farming communities, you should spend some time in one to get the feel…it is special…Judie, Jeremy and I went there for the celebration about three different years, even after our son and his family moved…Prinsburg seems to have gotten John Adams view of the Independence Day Celebration right…and this year, 2011, they are going about it in the same way…we went out on Saturday though it started on Friday with activities and then Saturday we came about 10:00 so it could be…”commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty.”…Prinsburg starts the day with a worship service with all the flags and patriotic feeling you would want at a service like that…then it is followed by a roast pork dinner (with all the trimmings) at their school, hundreds are served over the two hours…so organized…(it is a private school, Central Minnesota Christian)…and this is a fundraiser for them…farmers supply the pork, the school provides the facilities and the whole town gets involved with the cooking and serving…what a wonderful event…we loved it…

And online there is this about the Prinsburg 2011 Independence Day Celebration…Come to a small town for a big event! There are events all day including a 10 a.m. worship service, trap shoots, festival games for the kids, and a dinner served from 11 a.m.-1 p.m. Another highlight is a 1850’s baseball game. The day ends with a kiddie parade and a main parade at 6 p.m...it is a small town…and it is a big event…because after the dinner there is the kids tractor pull, volleyball, treats, games, horse rides, baseball game, a dunk tank…and a myriad of other activities for adults and kids of all ages…and for me, plenty of shade to sit and people watch…we had a great time…the snack window was open…everyone so friendly…and everyone, well just about everyone, asks your name and how you came to be there…and so welcoming…they all knew our son and his wife and their family…and we were now, “just family” to them…we talked to those who where in their 80’s and beyond…and every other age…and learn the history of Prinsburg and the school and the area…to me, a breath of fresh air…

Okay, okay…the parade…I know, you ask where are the pictures…I looked and looked…can’t put my hands on them…but let me paint a word picture for you (well, I’ll throw in a couple of pictures)…just imagine the whole town plus all those who have “come back” for this celebration…and from miles around…we are all lined up on the main street…well heavens, look on the Google Map and see the main street…see it???…that’s right the parade starts on Roseland Avenue going South and East on Kandiyohi Avenue and County Road 1…why I knew you could see it…you are doing just fine…here comes the color guard…everyone stands that can stand…hand over the heart…sort of a reverent hush as the flag goes by…you can only hear the footsteps of the color guard…but then…a band…some floats…Oh ya, a tractor or two or three or more…and kids riding bikes all decked out…candy being thrown off the fire truck and floats…local organizations from near by towns come out in numbers…and different small businesses with cars, their sign taped on the door…and old cars from the 50’s and beyond…queens and princesses…4 H and all the other youth organizations…and the school is well represented…lots of talk and yelling and music and fun…

And then it is over…for another year…but it will last in the memory for a long time…an Independence Day Celebration in small town America…what can beat it…well, you know…nothing can…we talk and shake hands with all those we met that day…and promising and hoping that we will be back next year…to celebrate this great country and it’s Independence…but we know that some year, like my Dad’s generation…we won’t get back for the parade…for the celebration…but like John Adams, we can hope that there will always be those who will celebrate the independence of this wonderful country and continue to work to keep our freedom and liberty…

I Took My Mom To Lunch…

 

 

Mother’s Day is this weekend…I will post this as I did last year…and try to do every year, in honor of my Mom…I wrote this years ago…April 2006, it was over a year after Mom died, but I had to “get it down” so I wouldn’t forget it…enjoy and if possible call your Mom…it will make her day…as my Mom did mine, on the day I describe below:

                                           

“Something reminded me this morning about taking my Mom to lunch…who knows how memories are jarred loose in our minds…but this morning this memory randomly arrived…

It has been only a little over a year since Mom passed away…but most of the memories of those days are still fresh…I know they won’t always be, so I decided this one I would write down before it becomes irretrievable…that happens to all of us as time goes by and other experiences take over…this lunch happened a few years ago…after Mom’s stroke and after Dad died, but before Mom slipped away from all of us…she was handicapped by some of the remnants of her stroke but still lucid enough to remember things of the past…she still knew everyone, though sometimes she called me “George” (her husband, my Dad)…and though she knew that wasn’t quite right, we both just let it go…it really didn’t matter to me and it was okay with her to let it go…just seemed like too much work for her to change it after it came out…if you don’t know what I mean, you will soon enough…

That day Mom had a doctor’s appointment…and so I picked her up…and off we went…first to her appointment, then to lunch…I really hadn’t planned to go to lunch but Mom was so “with it” that day…we talked and laughed as we drove along…she was so enjoying the ride, she commented how she would just like to keep driving…so I drove passed things that she would remember, pointed out things that were changing…she was so interested…she was always interested in what her boys thought and were interested in…that had not changed…I often wondered if that was real…was she as interested as she seemed???…I never could see anything to make me feel otherwise…and that day it was more than usual…it was a high point in these last years of her life…

I asked her if she wanted something to eat, “My treat”, I said…she laughed and said let’s go somewhere easy…I knew what she meant, she had lots of trouble getting in and out of the car…”Where do you want to go?”, I asked her…she didn’t know…so I made some suggestions…and she picked the one with the golden arches, she wanted some French fries…and of course, a drive-thru…I knew one not far away and we drove slowly to get there, talking along the way…we got our meal and parked behind the McDonald’s…so let me paint the picture…behind us was one of the busiest roads in the north suburbs of Minneapolis…but in front of us was a large swamp (called a wetlands today) and we were parked on some of the fill that had been put there to build the McDonald’s and paved…there were still piles of fill beyond where we parked…it was a warm sunny day…cattails waved far into the distance…birds flew here and there…the small willow trees along the bank moved to the motion of the wind…and here I was with my Mom…just talking, eating…sharing French fries…me watching to see if she needed help…it was perfect…

We talked of things she remembered, of things she wanted to talk about…I told her how much she meant to me…she waved it off as she often did…and talked of times past…her folks, my grandparents…she loved them…and now in her 80′s, she still honored them…they, like the rest of us were not perfect, but to her and to me…that didn’t matter, both of us agreed how wonderful they were…she remembered the days of her youth, before all this…and all that was before her…we laughed and some tears were shed…but overall it was a wonderful time…right there overlooking that beautiful swamp…

It’s a picture I will always remember (now bear with me)…from 50 or 100 feet above…do you see it???…looking down you see a McDonald’s, next to a busy highway…and behind a large swamp…and there behind the McDonald’s…right there in the parking lot…an old white Buick and inside…can you see them???…a son and his Mom, he in his 60′s, her in her 80′s…eating, talking, crying and laughing…but enjoying for one of the very last times, each other…

She was and is in my memory…loved and honored…”

Tomorrow is March 1st…the month of March will always be a big deal in our lives…it will be two years ago March 19, 2017 that our Jeremy died…and as that date comes closer, we have to stop and take stock of just how Judie and I are doing…I guess we are doing fine…the “guess” is in there because sometime I don’t feel so fine…because along with the “fine” is the disclaimer that “never a day goes by that we don’t think of him and miss him…but I think that’s okay…we look at that as healthy…normal…

Sometimes in the middle of things, I just expect him to walk into the room and make some comment as he rolls through…we would laugh and trade jabs…as I read something the other day…he said even years after his teenage daughter died in a car accident…”It’s not as much fun without Melissa.”…and so it is with Jeremy…”it’s just not as much fun without Jeremy.”…and though there is still “laughter in the walls” of our home…we still miss him…heavens he was with us for 47 years…

This is the last picture we have of Jeremy before he went in the hospital for the last time…the picture says a lot…not just him physically, but his room…his bed, by this time had been lowered…the bed frame was just too high for him to climb into bed…so the box spring is directly on the floor…and even that was just a little high…and you can tell by his face, this was not the normal Jeremy…that bright eyed and bushy tail look was taken over by his condition by this time…but also notice his truck collection…well, part of it…a small part, the rest ran all around the room on a shelf, a bit higher than this picture shows…and in boxes and closets around the house…

A picture of Dr. Keller, who did his surgeries at Mayo Clinic, in Rochester, MN is in the background, and his blue shirt that says, Rebuilt in Rochester, is also framed next to Dr. Keller’s picture…his room was HIS room…he loved all the collections he had in that room…I also have the picture of Jeremy and Dr. Keller in his office at Mayo…he has the “blue shirt” on and next to Dr. Keller…the same one in the picture above…

His collection of cars and trucks is gone…it took us a little while to decide what to do with it…we talked about selling it online, or giving it to Children’s Hospital…and also it took time to decide…was it okay to get rid of it…Oh, we knew we couldn’t keep it, for what reason would we do so, other than to remind us of Jeremy…and we have 47 years of memories that will take care of that…so we decided we needed to do something Jeremy would want…he wouldn’t want to “make money” off them…he would want them to go to someone who would enjoy them…so after long thinking about it, we decided to allow our Kids, Grandkids, and Great Grandkids to have some if they would like…I mean Jeremy had thousands of cars and trucks…no one would want all of them…

A few went to neighbors and friends…but the bulk, we decided would go to groups that worked with kids…and also many would go to Samaritan’s Purse Shoe Boxes, at Christmas time, and also to a church food shelf/gift program…no matter where they ended up we felt those kids would be happy with that gift…and we knew Jeremy would be pleased…he was a giver…and the joy of seeing his cars and trucks going to kids would have pleased him…his collection was pristine…brand new, so to speak…except for the few he loved to “get out” and look at and play with like below…

So as you can see we are walking through these memories carefully and not making snap decisions…but ones that Jeremy would want…so as March 19th comes closer we will do what we did last year…Judie and I went down to the cemetery to visit where he is buried…we know he is not there…we know he was ushered into heaven that moment he died…but it does give some bit of comfort to go there…last year Jared and Marisa, and Marla, Jared Jr. and Laura went along…a few tears and lots of memories…

Time may dull the ache of missing Jeremy, but nothing takes the pain away completely…but we chose to enjoy everyday and live with his memory as a gift, as he was to us when he was alive…We will never regret the decision we made so many years ago…in answer to the question put to us at the time: “Who else will love our son like we would???”…the answer was easy, Jeremy made it so…we are thankful…

A picture I have never shared before, I don’t think…it must have been just after he made one of his famous humorous remarks…we all remember those…some comment about what just happened…and his cute smile after the comment landed…who knows what it was, but these enjoyable moments will live on until we see him again…what a time that will be…

It was in early grade school that Jeremy made an art project…he had to choose a word…and then make an art project that was assigned…it is up in my office, I’m looking at it now…it is almost 50 years old…it has been in my office at work and in our home since he made it…it give me great comfort…and tells Judie and I what we already have…not only comfort, but real JOY…in remembering and honoring Jeremy…

I’m not really sure about all of this…I only have my memories…childhood ones at that…many of those memories from childhood are ones that were told to me by my Dad or Mom…my Grandparents, or other relatives, neighbors…and like with so many memories held by children, now grown up, those memories are seen through that child’s eyes…it’s probably accurate, but only through their eyes…So that is how I begin this short journey…

It must have been in the mid-30’s when my Mom and Dad met…it was in the deepest part of the Great Depression…how my Dad, who lived in Minneapolis and my Mom who lived Golden Valley, met, I can only guess…my Grandparents, George and Pearl Reggin, moved to Golden Valley in the 20’s…Grandpa, built their home and they raised four Children in that very small house…George, Dorothy (my Mom), Dick and Rose…

Grandpa, who worked for McGarvey Coffee Company, ran a small “Root Beer Stand” on the side…on the corner of Archibald Avenue and Highway 55, or “Olson Memorial Highway”…named for a Minnesota Governor Floyd B. Olson…that may have been where Dad and Mom met…she, her sister Rose worked there as well as my Grandparents…here is my Mom working there…they also sold fireworks…so I could see that they met there…I never remember them talking about when or how they met…

My Dad was raised  in Northeast Minneapolis…referred to as “Nordeast” by most…but he was born in Imperial, Alberta, Canada…my Grandparents moved to Canada in the early 1900’s…my Dad was born in 1915, in a log cabin…he rode a horse to school…my Elmquist Grandparents made the trek to Canada twice…they moved back to the U.S. and when Grandpa wanted to move back to Canada a third time…Grandma put her foot down…they stayed in the U.S. for the rest of their lives…he worked for the Soo Line Railroad…

During the Depression my Dad worked in the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps)…it was a government job program to put young men back to work…they had to send part of their wages back home…my Dad worked in Northern Minnesota…the camps were run like the army…and many of the improvements, buildings and parks are still being used today…

Sometime in the later 30’s Mom and Dad found one another…I’m sure a lot of adjustments had to be made in that early marriage, like all marriages…my Mom was about 18, my Dad was 24…found themselves in the depression, no jobs…my Dad worked for Fruen Mill on the West Side of Minneapolis…I remember that as a child…it was still a mill at the time…Dad used to tell of his working there, at night…he said he had a flashlight as he walked along the railroad tracks…he would hear a noise and turn the flashlight…almost always it would be a rat…they got as big as a cat…

They got married in 1938 or 39…there is some confusion of dates…Jack, my older brother by 3 years…then I came along in February, 1942…Pearl Harbor and WWII started in December of 1941…so, I was born just two months after Pearl Harbor and the beginning of WWII…my Dad went in the Navy, about a year later, in 1943…that meant my Mom was alone with two small kids, while Dad was in the Navy for the duration of the war…he was discharged in January 1946…

My Mom took both Jack and me and left for San Francisco, by train, to meet my Dad when he was discharged from the Navy…I don’t remember the trip, I was about four…Mom said it was an eventful trip…in those days there were still a lot of steam engines…lots of smoke and ashes…no A/C…she said the rats came along free…the best trains were saved for the troops…we rented an apartment for the time we waited for Dad…the plans were to stay, but instead, we came back to Minneapolis…

We rented a house, at 515 Meadow Lane…in the same neighborhood Mom grew up in…and that I grew up…I remember a few memories there…ice skating in the swamp, in back of our house…I remember the little Chapel on the top of the hill, that we attended…in those cold winter nights we would light a bonfire by the swamp…we even used an old tire once…and how small the house was…

And I remember when we built the basement house, just after the war…my Dad was working at the Minneapolis Gas Company…Oh, there was always the plan to build a house on the top…but it never happened…no indoor plumbing…water from my Grandparents, no bathroom…we had an outhouse…it was fairly spartan, but it was still our home…those were difficult years…my Dad came out of the war and had issues with alcohol, like a lot of guys from that war…it limited him in what he was going to do with his life, because it came at the most important part of his life…

My Mom carried the brunt of all things that needed to be done…I remember when the flat roof on the basement house was leaking…she got some asphalt in a gallon bucket…she climbed up on the roof and tried to seal it…Jack and I went up there too…too young to help much but we couldn’t see our Mom doing that…I even remember one year she bought rolls of roofing and went up to repair the roof…finally I think she was talked into getting someone to do the work…Dad was just not involved…

Those years were hard years, but great years too…during the late 40’s and then the 50’s, we were free to grow up in all our surroundings…outside was our playground, baseball in the streets…football…hockey, skiing in the winter…it was a great time to grow up…I asked Jack, my older brother, if he liked his childhood…without a pause, he said it was great…even though we didn’t have a lot…didn’t have what others had, yet we had so much to be thankful for…

Oh, I didn’t tell you about our backyard shed…we built it for our bikes, lawnmower, stuff…but also there was a basketball hoop…I will add a picture…really a Christmas picture…fresh snow and our basketball court…my younger brother, Jerry played basketball as well as Jack and I…here is the place where we spent hours playing…even in below zero weather…we would go out and shovel the court…then we would put the ball outside while we ate…so it would get acclimated…that way it would not sweat and the dirt and snow would not stick to it…the ball was below zero too…we turned on the spot light (if you look at the picture of my Mom and the basement house above, at the top of the tall pole was the spotlight) and…what great games we had there with neighbor kids…I remember the paperboy would stop and eat supper with us and stay and play ball…papers were delivered late those nights…Great memories…

Remember when…it is what memories are made of…to remember…and if we don’t write down those memories, we forget, or we don’t remember clearly what happened…that is the difficulty of relying on our memory…but even with that problem, memories are wonderful things…

As Judie and I think back to those last years of Jeremy’s life, the first thing that comes to mind is how much we miss him…then we think about the reality of those days…some were very hard…very busy…time consuming…we looked forward to breaks in the day…Jeremy needed one of us to be present all the time, in the last year of his life…so if one of us was in the shower, the other needed to be available…there were many difficult days…

I can remember when something came up…it was “all hands on deck”…so we learned to celebrate small victories…I always thought, “He will get better.”…I thought, if we give enough care, the best of doctors and medical care…he will rise above the present problems…he always has before, so why not now…if nothing happened within a twenty-four hour period, we would tell each other, “It was a good day.”…it reminded us to be thankful for God being with us in the smallest things…it helps when the next hard thing comes along…and with Jeremy, it did come…

I can remember just weeks before Jeremy died…we got a call from my nephew in Minnesota…his Dad, my Brother had died…it was sudden, a surprise, as all death is…this was the last of February, 2017…I told Mark that I would get back to him…he asked me to say something at the funeral…my mind was racing, I wanted to go, but what about Jeremy…he was passing out regularly by now…and we were going to have to drive up to Minnesota…Judie and I talked about it…I knew what Jeremy’s answer was going to be…

Jeremy had a special relationship with Uncle Jack…there was just something there…they both felt it…Jeremy always told his favorite stories about Uncle Jack…so when we decided to go…we all had to go together…Jeremy’s needs didn’t stop, so both us had to be around…so we all would go…Jeremy was elated…he loved a road trip…he and his Mom started to gather up all the things he needed…snacks, videos, CD’s, etc…and for some reason Jeremy had been asking Judie if he could see his Brother…that was Jess, he and his family live in Minnesota…even though it was for a funeral, we would stay at Jess’…and Jeremy would get to see him…

The trip went well…I have described it in a former post…he had some passing out and weakness…but for the most part, it was a good trip…Jeremy loved it…it was part of God’s blessing on all us those last days…we saw God’s hand in our lives, giving us direction and blessing through everyday…in just a few short weeks, Jeremy would be gone too…

As part of a devotion, Our Daily Bread, I read everyday, a story was related about Amy Carmichael (1867-1951) who is known for her work with rescuing orphaned girls in India and giving them a new life…in the midst of this exhausting work of rescuing these young girls…there were times she called “moments of vision”…In her book Gold by Moonlight, she wrote, “In the midst of a crowded day we are given almost a glimpse of ‘the land of far distances’, and we stand still, arrested on the road.” She was referring to the verse in Isaiah 33:17 “Your eyes will see the king in his beauty and view a land that stretches afar.”

I thought, how true that is with Judie and I…when we didn’t know whether we could physically do all the things we had to do…all the care, and yet all the “regular things”…it was hard…but we too found ourselves “in the midst of a crowded day we are given almost a  glimpse of ‘the land of far distances,’ and we stand still, arrested on the road.”…

To view this “land of far distances” is to be lifted above the circumstances of the present and to gain eternal perspective…to see our lives from His viewpoint and regain hope…we could choose to look down in discouragement or lift our eyes to the “land of far distances,”…to the Lord who is our help, and will give us peace…and so, “we stand still, arrested on the road”…for we have seen the “king in his beauty and view a land that stretches far off”…

Memorial Day, I Remember…

(This is something I wrote in 2010,  for Memorial Day…thought I would post it again…enjoy and if you can,  fly the flag…and remember how fragile our freedom is…how precious our liberty…and though it seems impossible, how easy it would be to lose it…we have come close in our history a number of times, who knows we could be close to it now…so this is not the time to forget that or to lose hope in this special and exceptional country…)

Another Memorial Day…and I don’t mean, “just another Memorial Day”…I do mean, “It IS another Memorial Day”…I am humbled by the day itself…this is not, as even some presidents mistakenly view it, a day to honor all our men and women in the armed forces…(though we do honor them)…there are other days set aside for that…Veterans Day, Armed Forces Day, days to honor the different services…this day is for the fallen…those who have given their lives for this great country of ours…

On the way to church this morning we went by a sign in front of Parkway Automotive, an auto repair shop, it said…”Closed Memorial Day…to honor those who have fallen”…that pretty much says it all…across our country there are ceremonies to remember what it takes to be free…it takes men and woman who are willing to give their lives to make sure we stay free…I have our flag flying outside our house all year…but as you can see, I add a few others to honor Memorial Day…

Arlington National Cemetery, just outside Washington D. C., is very well known…it was the family home of Robert E. Lee before the Civil War…but it was basically “taken” because of he fought on the side of the South during the war…(there is more to that story if you would like to Google it)…and it was turned into a cemetery during the Civil War…and after…many famous Americans are buried there…this song by Trace Adkins may make the story a little more personal…

But Arlington National Cemetery is not the only place our fallen are buried…my Dad, who served in WWII, is buried in Fort Snelling National Cemetery in Minneapolis, MN…and because of his service, my Mom was is buried right beside him…this picture of Fort Snelling is so beautiful…I remember very well the day we buried my Dad and then the day we buried my Mom…and I remember exactly where it is…I think I could drive right to it…but all those markers sure tell a story…they all served, many of them died far before their “time” in wars that keep us free even today…and many others were able to live full lives because others gave theirs…and my Dad knew the difference…he often told us that the real heroes never made it back…

He served in the south Pacific in the Navy…saw more than he ever wanted to…didn’t talk much about it…but was so proud that he served…and he wanted us to know, when he and Mom died, they wanted to be buried at Fort Snelling…along with all those who went before…he lived to be almost 83…and he along with so many that I knew, were forever changed by The War…and much like that war, men and women who serve today are changed in ways the rest of us cannot know…

One more picture of Fort Snelling…my Mom and Dad are there…I honor them today…but not only them…all of those who served and died to keep us Free…We honor them today…