It has been some time since I wrote a new blog. “Surviving” 2020 prompted me to consider sharing some observations. As painful as the Trump administration has been, we are close to actual end of the nightmare.
I have always treasured Joan Louise, but never more than this past year. It is so clear that I could live with no contacts as long as Joan was with me. For 51 years, it has always been easy to deal with the realities of human existence. I never take her for granted; she is a gift that I cherish. While virtually quarantined, each day is of interest. Our conversations are so real and constructive. I only wish that everyone has the joy of spending days like mine.
As much as I have had problems with much of current methods of sharing information, resulting in my not using Facebook, Twitter, and similar modes of communication, I surely have had sufficient opportunity to read many sources of information. While disturbing, clearly it is better to be informed than ignorant of current events.
It has been hard to believe that our nation politics has deteriorated so much. To me, it all started with Newt Gingrich (1). The dichotomy between Republicans and Democrats has increased since 1980 that ultimately was epitomized by the last four years. So many of congressional supporters of Trump tore him apart when he ran for nomination of his party. What was said then evaporated into the dense language of their new “leader”.
As I tremble at the prospects our grandchildren will face in their life times, ranging from the effects of global warming to the nation’s struggles to work with other nations, I can only hope that the fears will be found to be outdated by new leaders who will collaborate to address the problems resulting from economic inequities to the further breakdown of international cooperation.
We all know that living long enough brings to the forefront problems of old age. Fortunately, those signs are somewhat ameliorated by the ability to read, exercise (yoga, running, swimming daily), and joy generated by Maggie Mae, our beautiful 21 month old puppy. She gives Joan and I so many moments of sheer joy.
At this stage of life, I make an effort to live in the Moment! If I think about all the ideas and biases I have had in the past, I would be depressed. To think of the ideas I endorsed historically makes be feel so stupid. However, I do not focus on the past. It does not exist unless I bring it into the present. I choose not to. And, knowing that the future does not exist, I can live somewhat comfortably in the Moment!
However, it is hard to avoid being critical of much in the Moment that will imperil the lives of those who will live in the future. It is hard not to be biased about the well-being of our grandchildren and their compatriots. How they will experience their Moments, knowing that they were colored by prior generations.
As it turns out, I have lived in a rather “interesting” time. As a child, WWII touched many families. My personal experience was limited to my schools knitting squares for blankets for hospitalized veterans. I was 9 years old when the war ended. Life quickly normalized, albeit better than the past. Employment was high and people were being employed with more than adequate pay. I can recall homes being built fast and furious in my home city of Brockton. Everyone seemed to be happy with their status in life. By the time I graduated from high school in 1955, there seemed to be no student who was not going on to further education or being happily employed.
I entered the seminary and, for the next eight years, I studied as dutifully as possible. During this time, I was indoctrinated with a version of Christianity that saw itself as singularly gifted with being true! I exemplified the dedicated person who should emerge as a possible candidate for higher roles in the church. It did not take but a few weeks in my first parish in Concord to set me onto a totally different path. A woman came to talk with me. Given that she wanted to talk about birth control, she may have expected a more liberal understanding of the issue. I was totally astounded that a woman would want to discuss the subject. I quickly resorted to what I was taught and she left the rectory. To my utter surprise, she returned and we resumed the conversation with the same results. Within a few weeks, a middle aged man with several children wanted to talk to me. He patiently brought to my attention aspects of marriage that were both personal and pertinent. It began my conversion. Concluding that if my education was so erroneous about such an essential aspect of life, I no longer could believe anything that I could not support with an open mind. I became involved with the local Rabbi and the Episcopal priest, learning that we were brothers. However, other events charted an unexpected course. Between the anti-Vietnam and the civil rights protests, I annoyed many parishioners and, surely, the bishops. When I was transferred to a parish in Norwood, I thought naively that it was a typical move after three years. In less than a month, I was called by the local bishop’s office. Indicating how naive I was, I thought that I was going to be informed that they were selecting me for further education in Rome. However, when he asked me why I thought I was being asked to come, I said that I had no idea. He then reported that, in the first 30 days in the parish, I was starting a revolution. I took a breathe and naively thought that I would share my thinking. In turn, he said, “they were right!” One thing led to another, symbolized by my sermon that shared that I was joining the anti-Vietnam protests in Washington. Before finishing the sermon, many pews became empty as people walked out on me. To say that I was surprised would be an understatement. Within the next three years, it became evident that I would not survive. I applied for doctoral programs in religious studies all over North America: Vancouver (Canada), Atlanta and Berkeley. I chose Berkeley in March 1969.
Within a short time, I was walking in church’s parking lot on Sunday. When I saw Joan Glebus coming from the church, I talked with her. We had talked several times during the years in Norwood. So, talking with her was not unusual. I talked to many people. But, this conversation was singularly different. I told her that I was leaving the parish in June and was going to Berkeley, CA in August. I asked her if she would want to go with me, emphasizing that I had no real money and was unclear how this next chapter in life would work out. To my surprise and delight, she quickly said “yes” and my life entered a new era. In turn, I went to her parent’s house in the parish and knocked on the door. It was not usual to have me knock on doors and they easily opened the door and we sat at the kitchen table. After a few pleasantries, I told them what I was going to do and shared that I asked their daughter to come with me and she had agreed. It had quickly gone from coming with me to my asking her for marriage. And their only concern was the reality of my loving their daughter. Satisfied that they would not object, we shortly focused on how we would get married before leaving for California. We did not want publicity. We searched for a priest who could accommodate us in a marriage at their house. Between early June and 19 July, we were quietly busy planning for the marriage and our needs for traveling through the country to get established before the academic year started.
Our cross country trip was captured in our “Westward Saga” which focused on our small tent used along the way to special moments. We went out off the highway for breakfasts in small diners. We were enthralled by the warm atmosphere and low cost breakfasts. Our evenings involved setting up our tent and cooking our food. We had identified a place we wanted to spend a few days: Steamboat Springs, Colorado. It was unbelievable, to the point that we discussed the possibility of just settling in the area. But, I was determined to get my education. I recall driving down University Avenue in Berkeley and thought that I was entering the most beautiful moment in my life. We enjoyed every day in Berkeley. Joan easily found a job as a NICU nurse in Oakland’s Children Hospital. She had a special friendship with one of her colleagues which has been maintained over these last 50 years.
I naivety was not helpful in my doctoral education. I was so determined to complete my education as soon as possible. We treasured having two children within a year of each other. I did not want to spend much time socializing with faculty. This was particularly harmful because I did not do any socializing with the professors involved in my dissertation. I was totally surprised when I presented by dissertation to my chairman only to have it returned with much criticism. I was floored and had no one to stand up for me. Somehow or other, Joan and I came to the conclusion to not fight the setback and, instead, took advantage of getting a MSW at the University of Louisville. Living in southern Indiana and attending school each day required some willingness to adjust to reality. We lived out of boxes. I went to school daily and Joan worked as a nurse on weekends. I took Sara and Sean to the beautiful library in Albany each weekend. Our life style was really circumscribed, but always perceived what was positive. The children were such a positive part of enjoyment in this period.
Over the next several years, we experienced the impact of my not being “settled”. My first job as a social worker was in New Hampshire in a small clinic. I really had no alternatives. In spite of it all, we had one great experience when we went to Bermuda for the first time. To me, each day was amazing, starting from the moment we registered at the desk. He told us that we were getting a better room, all attributed to the pro golfer at the local golf course in Derry, NH. When we went to the room, we found that we had a gift of flowers and fruit. Each morning when I went golfing (before anyone probably got out of bed), I treasured each moment. After cleaning up, Joan and I went for breakfast fit for a king, per my experience. Joan and I rode bicycles through the island each day, absorbing the beauty. It was not long thereafter when I accepted a position at the VA in Boston.
When looking for housing, we chose to look towards a town that would be close to her parents. We ended up in Medfield where we had so many great experiences, albeit, some of which were “painful learning” for me. Having no expectation of being a parent, I was awed by the ease with which Joan dealt with all sorts of developmental issues. One of her classic interventions was her helping me deal with Sean one day. For whatever he did, I thought that the appropriate parental response was to take a the toy in question from him. His response was so unexpected. I forget what he said, but he showed who was on top by throwing all of his toys our of his room and then shutting the door. I was left with the clear perception that I had much to learn. There were so many treasured experiences, including our birthday celebrations with a boxed cake that everyone enjoyed. But the highlight of our experience was the day we brought Sara home after being named a Rhodes Scholar. We got some champagne and Sean wanted to give the toast. His words were priceless. I was breathless listening to quite elaborate esteem of his sister. It was a most singular moment.
(1) https://time.com/5863457/how-newt-gingrich-laid-the-groundwork-for-trumps-republican-party/
https://history.princeton.edu/about/publications/burning-down-house-newt-gingrich-fall-speaker-and-rise-new-republican-party
