Hello from the Acorn Cabin,
As I complete another visit to Decorah, I have been blessed by the gentleness, the depth of caring, and the genuine love that characterizes the amazing Pilgrim ladies and the incredible families which have been created from their parent’s beginnings at 313 Ohio Street. The humility and goodness that characterized Don and Virginia is evident from every angle in their girls. There is a simplicity and elegance melded together in a manner that leaves you in a sense of awe from the experience of being in their actual presence. And yet, in their sense of merely being who they are, such praise would seem unwarranted, and perhaps even embarrassing. They go about their lives living out the very goodness they received. I am sure their eldest sister lives through each of them as she was both the kindest, and perhaps the toughest of all of them. I remember Suzanne’s voice as a sort of true-to-life angel, and as I was always in awe of my barely younger cousin. She was stunning in every way.
This trip I was fortunate to experience a simple family bonfire and s’more-making event. On a warm summer evening, extended members of three of the original six’s gathered at the now eldest’s farm. The number of children, grand- and now great-grand children are more than two people’s fingers and toes. And that is only three of the six girls. In spite of such a number, I did not witness a single moment of discontent or an acrimonious emotion from anyone. That is stunning, but speaks to something more profound. The love and care that epitomizes the cousins and their spouses continues through, and to, their generational prodigies. Last evening I had the opportunity to speak more with two spouses, and while I am sure their are moments, as with any couple married for decades, the goodness on the opposite side of their unions is also evident. Furthermore, I have experienced the same loving kindness with the third of the remaining sisters and her spouse, both who treat me with such love and care. The only reason I cannot affirm the expected similarities with the another is because I have not been fortunate enough to be in their physical presence, but I have spoken with them on a number of occasions. What I see in each of the daughters of Don and Virginia is a sort of blending of their parental personas. Each of the girls brings an beauty to everything around them, which was their mother, and yet they have the attention to little things that I suspect came from their mathematician father. Certainly there is some conjecture in that assessment, but I will go with it.
Coming back to Iowa, I notice a beauty I did not always realize as a child, or even into my 20s. The geometric rows of soybeans or corn, the hues and different greens that color the hills and valleys, particularly here in Northeastern Iowa (and yet across the state) are quite a sight. As I drove over on Sunday, the practice of strip farming was particularly apparent in one farm as there was a patchwork of beans and corn terracing the hillsides, which is simply thoughtful farming, both to manage erosion, but also to provide different nutrients for the rich Iowa farmland. I am returning for a 50th high school reunion, as noted in other places, but during those high school years, I worked on my best friend’s farm, where we walked beans, chopping weeds in the morning dew. I did not really appreciate what was happening as it was a summer job to put some spending money in my somewhat bare pockets. Looking at those same fields now (or at least the same type of crops), it is amazing how differently I view what the hard working people of these fly-over states do for the entire world. There is still nothing like Iowa sweet corn to me, and I have learned that soybeans have so many more uses than what I believed as a teenager. As the last couple days pass before I see people I have not seen for half-a-century, I am trying to imagine what will happen. I did have the opportunity to speak with one of my classmates by phone this week, and I will meet with him on Friday afternoon. I am glad to be doing that because as I look at the people coming, there are not all that many I remember. Additionally, there is the reality that I have not really spent much time in my hometown since I graduated as the first class of Sioux City West High School. In fact, the two schools are having a joint reunion because the larger of the two eventual West/North student bodies had come from the enormous school in our town of 100,000, Central High School. In fact, that is the school from where my mother graduated. I have reached out to one classmate who was from my smaller school, which was the second combined body to create West, but I have not heard back. She dated a friend in high school, and I appreciated both of them a great deal. Of the people I most associated with in high school, some have actually passed, some seem to be unaccounted for, and some seem to not be able to attend. So, there is some nervous anticipation on my part. And yet, I am glad I have taken the time to make this trek. Sioux City was a wonderful place to grow up in. It had everything we needed to be content, but it was not so large that you felt swallowed up by its enormity. I see it now as the ideal. And considering I am coming back for my 50th, I realize all these years later that I had profoundly strong, capable teachers. From Ms. Barker for English to Mr. Flom for history; from Mr. Erickson for economics to Mr. Littlejohn for science, there was no where I was not tutored and taught by incredibly talented and committed instructors.
There was no inkling that as I might return to this event a half of century later, I would return as a professor in both a liberal arts college and a medical school. I was a capable and smart student I now realize, but I was an uninspired student. I was an undisciplined student. As such, when I chose to do well, that was certainly within my grasp, but I was inconsistent at best, graduating with a 2.8 or so. Nothing that would turn other’s heads to notice, particularly when it came to going to college. I was a confused 16/17 year old high school senior with no sense of what I wanted to do or where I might do it. I had a group of friends, mostly in band or in my church youth group, and they were important to me. They helped me manage the struggles of my daily life that were more profound than I ever let on. And being in a new school my senior year allowed me to disappear even a bit more, which was probably both good and problematic. Physically, I was smaller than most; I think I was more immature than most; and I was certainly more unsure than most. I often say it took me until the age of 25 to grow into my ears. And now as I return, I look little like I did as that seventeen year old. My growth spurt occurred after high school in Marine Corps boot camp, and now I am probably in as good of shape as I have been most of my life. I doubt most will either recognize or remember this little squirt from Riverside. It will be an interesting weekend.
And yet, there are other reasons to return to my roots as a Northwest Iowa boy. All of my relatives are laid to rest there, and I want to see those resting places. While there were certainly those who had preceded my life, so many of them have passed in these past 50 years. So it is a lifetime ago for some of them. As I was surrounded by family from the Olsen side of the family this week, last night’s conversation returned to the 10 children that my mother, the youngest, was part of. I cannot imagine having 9 sibling, but yet, in my own biological extended family, I do. It is just I have never really been around them. When I go to Graceland Park Cemetery, both my biological and adopted family (which are distantly related to a point) are there, and within yards of each other. When I gaze out at the various markers, the stone edifices that commemorate their lives, they seem to say so little because there is so much more to what they did. I am reminded of the line from Phantom of the Opera, when Christine Daáe is walking through the cemetery singing to her father. “You were once my warm companion . . . wishing I could hear your voice again . . . passing veils and sculpted angels, cold and monumental; seem for you the wrong companions, you were warm and gentle . . .” Certainly there are those laying there who fit these words perfectly. My father and my grandmother are the two individuals for whom I still believe I have the most affinity if I might understand the person I am. When I go home this time, I will work to find two new graves that are in yet a third cemetery. Jim and Joanne Wiggs are also cousins, but more like parents to me. They were beyond kind and gracious to me, and they were my home in Sioux City when I returned during the 2000s. They both passed in the last 5-6 years, and I have not visited their burial place. Joanne was an elegant, beautiful, and living June Cleaver. Jim did more to support me when I was struggling with a second marriage than anyone, providing both perspective and a moral comfort that allowed me to continue on, eventually receiving my PhD. Furthermore, I know the the town I refer to as home has changed profoundly since I grew up here.
It is now Saturday evening and I am back in my motel room, after attending events over the last two days. How amazing to connect with some people I have not seen face-to-face for 50 years. Two of the women in my class in attendance have been delightful to speak with and listen to. The one I knew better than the other, but the quieter one of the pair was always quiet; however, she seemed incredibly intelligent and extraordinarily kind. Sharing with her the last two days has been a wonderful treat of reconnection. The second was the daughter of my piano teacher. She was a bit more outspoken then, and I am grateful to her for the way she shared so much about her memories, working as a catalyst for some of the rest of us. Four other classmates who spent time last evening were all significant in my formative years, but each for different reasons. One continues to be in a band that was an important element of the Riverside band scene. Their eventual lead singer was my best friend. One was in choir with me and an important part of my group of friends in that space. He was outgoing and remains to be so. The third is sort of the glue who holds us all together, and continues to be such a wonderful connection; he married another classmate and she was (and I believe remains) to be one of the most gentle souls I knew. The fourth, being one half of childhood sweethearts who are a significant part of my high school experience. He continues to be as kind and amazing as I remember. Each of them brought a different piece to the tapestry that is the foundation of who I am. Most simply put, it would have been wonderful to have some more Cavaliers there, but I am blessed beyond measure for the last 36 hours or so. I will see a couple more before I leave my town once again. There is a comfort to driving the roads where I learned to drive. There is a comfort to sharing names of people that we all remember. Tonight at the more formal event, there was a slide show in memoriam, and the number of people who have passed number almost 100. That is a sobering reality of a 50th reunion. Names that were surprising, names of some of the more seemingly-significant members of that class of 1973. And yet, a stern and forceful reminder that death is an incredible equalizer. I was also blessed to have some people set at our table tonight who would have been Central students had there not been a new set of schools, but they were gracious and kind, which was more important to us Riverside people than they might have realized. I believe Leeds students probably felt the same. Riverside and Leeds were the small high schools in our town, and I am not sure if Leeds has the same dedication to their former school as I believe is evident in those who walked the quadrangle of Riverside Jr/Sr High School. There is a strong school spirit in the Cavaliers of RHS, of that I am certain.
Tomorrow and Monday, I will meet up again with some classmates, and some life-long friends. All of these things remind me that the people I have spent time with the last two days have been friends or in my life since kindergarten. That is over 60 years. That is, for all practical purpose, my life time. So indeed, the title of the blog is apropos. Riverview as a building does not exist anymore and the school where I spent most of my childhood living across the street from is no longer a school in the same way. So much has changed, but returning for the reunion is a poignant reminder that some things persist. Last night, listening to the stories about classmates was both enlightening and surprising. As one of our classmates noted at the banquet this evening, take time to reach out to those who matter. I have spent the evening looking up the passing notifications of those whose names and pictures were shared in memoriam. A number of them passed in their 50s, but some even earlier. Life continues and when we are not in their immediate circle, their passing goes unnoticed, but shocking when it comes to those still walking a journey. In 1973, we were wide-eyed, as most are at 18. We had little idea what the world would hold, but now I find myself realizing I grew up in an opportune time and in an amazing city. I had little idea how fortunate I was. I am pretty sure I do not want to wait 5 or 10 years to reach out to some of the people who were not in attendance this weekend. There are a number of people I realize had more consequence for me than I comprehended. Indeed, it has been a lifetime, but I am still counting. Praise God for that opportunity. The video is a 50th anniversary video of a song that came out when I was that high school student in the senior year of 1972-73. Indeed, we were Northwest Iowa kids, but American kids who loved American Bands!!
Thank you as always for reading!!!
Michael (Dr. Martin)
thewritingprofessor55 
Dr. Martin,
I am happy to hear that you had the opportunity to attend your 50th reunion. Pennsylvania to Iowa is a far trip! After reading your blog, my eyes were really opened up to importance of change.
After moving away from home at a young age, or progressing through your life, you don’t typically notice change until you find your way back to where it all started. I agree with you that things you find pointless at age 18 hold a great value in the world which you don’t realize until you mature. Especially being away from home you don’t realize how much you change. Being in a new place forces you to see things differently than you would have before. Maybe it is because we grow and learn more, or maybe it is because we gain real life experiences over such topics that we are contemplating. Returning back to where you came from I also agree makes you appreciate it more.
Sometimes you don’t know how good (or bad) things are until they are gone. Family relationships, friends, jobs, memories. It is hard to hold onto while you are far away. The great part about it though it being able to reconnect when you return. You see how you and the other people/places change, and then you get to spark a new reconnection.
Reconnecting is good, which is what I find myself already doing when I am home from college on breaks. I look forward to being able to relate to your blog more when I attend my very first high school reunion.
Thank you for sharing, your blog post about change and reconnecting over the years is very impactful.
Dr. Martin
Your post transported me to your experience of going back home to your 50th high school reunion. The hopefulness, heartfelt joy, and even pain you experienced were communicated to your readers. The topics of growing up, changing through the years, figuring out what is important to us, and taking time to remember people and memories that we have neglected over the years are important topics that younger individuals think about to a serious degree. Reading this gives anyone the opportunity to think back on their own lives and appreciate many different things.
For me personally, this post resonates on multiple levels. I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania where our main source of income overall was farming. Throughout my high school experience, I faded into the back, was shaped by incredible teachers, and made strong connections and friendships with fellow classmates in band and choir. Since I had a quite high school experience, and wasn’t really considered “popular”, I have never considered going back for a reunion. However, after reading this post, I might be inclined to change my mind.
Reminiscing about the past, taking time to appreciate the people I did and did not have strong connections to, and truly appreciating the town and schooling environment I grew up in was something I never considered or would brush off if I did think about it. A small section in what you wrote made me want to change my stance on this. “We had little idea what the world would hold, but now I find myself realizing I grew up in an opportune time and in an amazing city. I had little idea how fortunate I was. I am pretty sure I do not want to wait 5 or 10 years to reach out to some of the people who were not in attendance this weekend.” I think every young person struggling to figure out who they are, what they want their lives to be, and who they want in their lives can connect with these lines on a personal level. Many of us do not know what we have until it’s gone. This post you have created in particular is a love letter to this sentiment. A sentiment mind you that everyone should reflect on more. In doing so it might make us all a more connected and appreciative for the things we have.
-Thea Eppley
Hello Dr. Martin,
I enjoyed reading your post about your hometown and going back for your 50th reunion. I think after reading your blog post, I have much more thinking to do about my own life in high school and in my hometown as well. Yes, I did graduate high school only three years ago so thinking about me having a 50th reunion seems near to never. After reading your blog post I have pondered on my days back in high school. It makes me sad to think that the only times I will ever see some of my high school classmates are during reunions, depending on if they go or if I go. I didn’t have many friends in high school but the ones I did have meant everything to me. Some I still talk to daily and some I haven’t spoken to since we graduated. In a sense, I find it sad that I haven’t spoken to some people who used to be my best friends. I think after reading this, I believe that we don’t usually think about other people unless we’re close to them. It is sad to think that we don’t know what is going on with some of the people we graduated with or if they are even still alive. I think this post shows who you are as a character as well. You seem to have a big heart, like you care for everyone in different ways even if you weren’t close to them. That is a great characteristic to have. I think it is interesting to hear that you didn’t know what you were going to do with your life and now you are a professor. I wasn’t sure either what I wanted to do. I had an idea but still thought I was so young to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life and here I am halfway through my college years of becoming a nurse. It has been nice reading your blog post and getting to know a little bit more about you and who you are as a person.
Hello Dr. Martin,
I first wanted to start by saying “Wow.” What a blog. I usually don’t read blogs. There isn’t a reason as to why. Maybe it is because I do not have a great attention span or cannot relate to what is being said, but this blog captivated me in more ways than not.
It is hard for me to relate to what was said because I am only 19 years old and have so much time ahead of me but reading this made me feel as if I was there with you, experiencing everything that you were going through. One thing that stuck out to me the most was your high school reunion. My high school reunion has always interested me. It is weird that I am even thinking about that seeing as how I graduated not even a year ago. It has always been something that I have thought about, however. I always ponder what my classmates will look like then. Who will be successful, who will have changed the most, and more importantly, who will remember me? I can relate to what you were saying about how you felt small in your school and how during your senior year you hid yourself more than usual. I did the same thing. For my senior year, I put my head down and worked like a dog. I hardly ever went out and when I did, it wasn’t for long. I was more concerned about my studies than anything else. Looking back now I realize that I could have delegated way better than I did. I sacrificed my social life for better grades, which in the moment seemed like a good idea but in the long run, it wasn’t. I lost some friends and fell out of social groups due to my constant drive to work and get better grades. So because of all of that, I became “small” if you will, during my senior year and I fell into this vicious cycle of work, work, work. I told myself never again and since then, I have done a much better job at maintaining a healthy balance of work and socialization with my peers.
Another moment during this blog that touched me was when you spoke about visiting your deceased relatives. I have only been to one funeral in my entire life; my grandfather’s. I called him Poppy but most referred to him as Buddy. I am not sure where he got that name from and I should probably ask but seeing him pass while I was at such a young age broke my heart and I don’t think that piece will ever return. He was like a much older brother to me. I was beyond close with him and when he left, he took a piece of my heart with him. Ironically as I write this, I am getting my first-ever tattoo this coming Thursday in memory of him. I found a card that he wrote to me when I was younger for my birthday and I am going to use his signature on the card to get it tattooed on me. The tattoo is going to be a flower, with the stem being his signature. I went this week for sizing and I am happy with the result. I cannot wait for the final product. I also have a necklace that I wear that has his ashes inside. You may have seen me wearing it because I never take it off. I used to a while ago but I kept losing it, so now it stays on me all the time. I got sidetracked there but you can see how much he means to me all these years later.
Death scares me and I am not talking about myself passing away. I am talking about the death of others. I already lost one family member and I cannot imagine losing another. My mother always told me when I was young that once she and my father pass, as well as my extended family, I am not going to have anyone else accept my siblings. I would always roll my eyes at her because it was never a concern for me back then. However, as time has gone on and I have matured, I have come to realize that she was right. My siblings are around the same age as me. So once everyone else in my family passes, they are going to be the only ones left. I am ashamed to admit that I do not have a close relationship with anyone in my family, including my siblings. In fact, as I sit here and write this, I am currently home for the weekend. Neither of my siblings has come out of their room to say hello to me or give me a hug. The only time I have seen them was for dinner and no one said a word to me. It’s sad and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I am hoping that by my being away from college, my family will miss me more, resulting in them showing more love and affection towards me. It has only been a month since I moved out, so it is a little early to tell, but I hope that with time we can find our way back to one another again. Family is forever and I want to get closer to them as time goes on. I look around at all my other friends and see how close they are to their families and I envy that to a degree because I wish I had that. My goal is to one day look back on moments like this and smile about how far I have come and how much has hopefully changed from now until then.
It was a pleasure reading your blog as you gave us an insight into what your life looks like currently. I will definitely be back on my own time to read more of your stories in the future. I feel like I know you better as a person and can understand you more than I did before, which I am thankful for.
Dr. Martin,
Thank you, as always, for sharing a piece of your life with us. I greatly enjoyed reading about your hometown and the landmarks that were a staple of your childhood and early adult years. It was also nice to hear about your 50th highschool reunion. After reading, it makes me kind of sad that my highschool doesn’t do one. I’m only a sophomore in college, therefore only putting me two years since I graduated highschool. Like you, I only keep in contact with a select few people from my graduating class. Many of whom I keep in touch with were some of my closest friends in highschool and I’m happy to say that they still are now. However, it’s strange to think about the lack of communication I have with my former classmates. These were people I saw at least five days a week, shared classes and lunches with, and now to not speak to them anymore is so bizarre. The sad part about that is communication is a two way street and I have not made an effort to reach out either. Your blog post reminded me of those people I have lost contact with. Social media allows me to see what they’re doing, but everything you see isn’t really enough to say you know who those people are now after graduation.
I am also sorry to hear that so many of your classmates have passed away as well. Graduating fifty years ago only sets your class at about 68 years old. In my opinion that is not old at all which is why I was shocked when you mentioned it. However, I remember you mentioned during our meeting that many of them had the same illness. I can only imagine what level of stress that must put on you. It must have you questioning if it was an environmental factor or pure coincidence.
With that in mind, it makes communicating with those from highschool even more important. You can’t wait forever to reach out because everyone’s lives are moving at different paces. Reading this blog has taught me to jump on things sooner instead of waiting because you don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes and you might miss your opportunity if you wait too long.
Thank you for sharing,
Olivia Thomas
Olivia,
Thank you for your thoughtful and kind response. Indeed, people who travel in and out of our lives are more significant than we sometimes realize. It is always something we have more power about than we realize. One of the most important things I have learned in that 50 years is how amazing life is, how much of a gift it is.
I appreciate your words and thoughts.
Dr. Martin
Attending a high school reunion would be such an amazing opportunity. The chance to be able to catch up and talk with old friends whom you have not seen since probably graduation is a whole other feeling. My own high school does not do school reunions which is sort of sad, however this trend sort of fell out over the years.
Being able to talk with people who you have not seen for years allows for memories to reappear and laughter to spread. You are able to go home and talk about those memories you remembered from the conversations you just talked about.
Dr. Martin,
It is enlightening to read your journey back to your roots. This is important for each and every person. The memories are never to be forgotten. The mere fact that you had to travel so far to get back to these roots is even more profound.
I have not had the opportunity to participate in my class reunion, yet I cannot wait for the time to come. Sharing stories and reconnecting with those that came from where we came from is spiritually uplifting. I have not put much thought about it up to this point, but I will embrace the feeling when it comes.
It is truly uplifting to experience the journey to your hometown. These memories bring both happiness and sadness along with them. Unfortunately, grief is a part of all of our stories. The blessing we all have to encounter these moments is extraordinary. Thank you for motivating me to embrace these future events in my own life.
Justin Haney