Hello from the back deck of La Malbec,
I am the only one here at the moment, and it is a bit warm, but the fans are blowing, the music is playing quietly, and I have a moment to reflect on the first week of classes. It was an incredibly busy, but for the first time it feels like we are, to some extent, back to a normal excitement of a typical fall semester. Of course, managing 6 sections of writing will keep me hopping, but the students seem to be more engaged, and the COVID hangover that typified last year is nice to see. We’ll see where we are in Week Four.
During my August travels through Iowa, I stopped in Newton, IA, the city that created the Maytag Man from those childhood commercials. My initial experience with Newton occurred in early June of 1978. I was a member of a regional Lutheran Youth Encounter (LYE) Team named Daybreak. The five of us would travel almost 48,000 miles in the year we represented LYE, focusing our travel in the Midwest, but we spent two weeks in churches in Iowa before we moved on to Carol Joy Holling Bible Camp in the Omaha area. However, our first church in Newton provided my introduction to the most incredible host family I would experience that entire year. A couple, who were in their late thirties with two young children, became the most gracious hosts for my team leader, John, and me. Lee, a former high school math teacher, had moved into the business world, working for an engineering company, and Judy, a woman who would put Julia Childs to shame, made every meal or snack a creation. The interior ambiance of their home was like walking into a magazine, and the barn-board lower level we occupied with our own restroom and incredible down pillows and comforter were stunning. It was like being in a 4 Star accommodation. However, that was just the beginning. Their son and daughter, who are now am architect in Paris and a professor in North Carolina, were adorable, respectful, and as gracious as their parents. Each day we spent in Newton, we were treated as special guests in this little Iowa town by everyone we met, and it was evident should we ever return we would be welcomed with open arms. At the end of the week, because our transportation for the year was being used by another group, our host families met our next destination (which was slightly more than 100 miles) hosts to accommodate and simplify our travel needs.
What I did not know at the time was a conversation at breakfast one morning with Lee and Judy would refocus my life. We sat at the table, and Judy, as she can do so thoughtfully, so directly, and yet so kindly, asked, “Michael, what do you want to do after this year?” I answered quite assuredly, “I want to go to cosmetology school and learn to be a hair dresser.” I am sure most of you are just shaking your heads, but that is what I thought at the time. She looked at me wisely and compassionately across the table, and said something along the lines of, “That is not a bad thing to do, but you should think a bit more because I think you could do something more significant.” This is a paraphrase of her words, but the spirit is accurate. At the time, I merely took it as she wanted the best for me, but did not think much more about it. Now decades of life later, I know that this specific moment, along with a conversation with my sister-in-law, which probably prompted me to apply for the LYE team to begin with, are two moments, seemingly innocuous, which changed the trajectory of my life.
Before the Lutheran Youth Encounter year would end, Daybreak would be back in Newton two more times, and I would be there with the Swensons another time on my own when they loaned me a car to drive to Minneapolis, where I was presenting at a conference. At one point, I needed winter boots and as I was living on a dollar a day, they purchased boots for me. Lee and Judy became like hybrid parents/older siblings to me. They came to my graduation from college. Whenever, to this day, I find myself traveling across Interstate 80, up until this last time, I stopped at my home-away-from-home at 721 W 11th Street S. They cared for me after one of my surgeries, and I have spent a 4th of July and even other holidays each time graced by their unparalleled and never-ending generosity. Throughout the years, there are two constants: they welcome me at any moment, and as we have aged our conversations have turned to bigger things than my hope of becoming a tonsorialist. Judy continued to own her own business and manage it for decades, but her ability to host, cater, and create unmatched living experiences in the confines of their beautiful home was as constant as the proverbial Timex watch.
Over the years, I watched as they added on, remodeled, and updated their home. They never ceased to amaze me with the ability to envision and establish yet a new level of inviting character. Every detail from floorplan to wall covering, from furniture to the minutest of accoutrements were considered, but never in an ostentatious manner. You were simply welcomed. And then there were Lee’s vehicles or the other things he loved to manage. To this day he has a convertible, and over the years there have been a string of classic vehicles hid away, brought out for special occasions. He seemed to always find the just perfect auto that offered a glimpse into this somewhat understated personality that hides behind his twinkling eyes and ever-present smile. He is as gracious as Judy is, but they compliment so well. Over the years, regardless my situation, where I was living, if they were home, their open door policy was a welcome respite from whatever was happening in my life. I knew I would get insightful conversation, incredible food, amazing hospitality, and an attitude adjustment that put me in a better place than when I arrived at the Swenson residence. They are both the products of Iowa farms and that work ethic that underpins all they do is there, but it never seems to be obligatory. It is just done without fuss, and with perfection.
What I realized over the years is they became a trusted, admired, and adopted-by-me, but perhaps to their chagrin, older siblings. There is so much I admire about them, from their parenting, their business acumen, their philosophical perspectives, and yet, that is the only beginning. As I have watched their children grow into adults, the parenting that occurred only cemented my belief in how wonderful they were both professionally and personally. Their children have gone off on their own, choosing and managing very different paths, though both with an international flair. I remember visiting once while attending a 4th of July celebration in town. Their daughter, who was a beginning teen ager at the time, asked me how old I was and when I told her thirty, she exclaimed loud enough to drown up the music, “30!!!” Oh my goodness, I remember being a bit mortified. I remember Lee and Judy coming to visit me here in Pennsylvania, and we made a snowy trip to Jim Thorpe. While I did not completely white-knuckle that trip, it was a memorable journey over the 93 mountain. While that is not all that long ago, there is the reality of time. If I am almost three times as old as when I met them, they too have aged, though generally quite gracefully. As I visited them in Newton during my summer travels, they have moved from the home I have considered a haven for all these decades. However, not surprisingly, even their new space, with many of the same accoutrements I knew at 721, one is welcomed into their new space with the same wonderful charm I have always known. And yet, there are differences . . . age will do that, and even though I was 23 when I first arrived in Newton, there is a sort of immortality (there is that word again) to my elder adopted-siblings. They have been there to guide me more than they will ever realize. Their exemplar as two incredible humans has offered a steady and thoughtful beacon that has shown throughout life since my first visit. One of the things more apparent to me as I have grown older is how we continually encounter people or situations, ones which have significant consequence on our life. Lee and Judy have been two such people, and to say they have blessed my life, enriched my life, and helped me become a better person is a profound understatement. I hope I might bless someone someday they way they have blessed me.
Thanks for reading.
Dr. Martin
thewritingprofessor55 
Dr. Martin,
When reading this blog post I didn’t expect it to tug on my heartstrings as it did. Your experience with Lee and Judy was extremely nice to hear. I think people in our lives and the wisdom that they can bring is a very fundamental part of who we are and how we live our lives. Although I’m sure that you didn’t have the intent of making your reader choked up, it surely made me. When reading your story, although I may not have had the exact same experience, it made me recall some of the experiences that I had with my late grandparents.
Obviously, my time and my experiences are much limited by my age, and I have yet to have such profound stories as you. However, I found this post to be very relatable to my feelings about my late grandparents. They were both in their late 60s when I was born and from the day that I could start to understand the world around me they were molding me, and I hardly even knew it. The most significant similarity for me was the anecdotes that you talk about Lee and Judy and how even when it came to your ambitions in your early life of becoming a tonsorialist, they could see more in you than maybe even you could. For me, this was very similar to how my grandparents were to me, although I did not spend as much time with them as I would have liked. Looking back there were many times in my early life when I had ambitions that I did not want to go to college, or I wanted to take risky endeavors. My grandparents were always there with an open door and open ears to whatever it was that I wanted to discuss and often they had wisdom in their responses that at the time I was very blind to.
One of these specific talks that I can remember with my grandfather was extremely like that of your conversation with Judy. I remember going over to my grandparents’ house one Saturday afternoon as I often did to watch our beloved Penn State Nittany Lions and my grandfather posed the classic question “So Tyler what do you want to do after you graduate high school?” At the time I was just a budding freshman, but I was very adamant about being a photographer/graphic designer online and I had absolutely no intention of going to college. In that moment I can distinctly remember my grandfather telling me, “I know that you are very talented Tyler and I’m sure that you could make that work. But I believe that you can really do something extraordinary if you consider college.” So, when I read, what Judy had said to you, it felt as though I was back at my grandfather’s house, engulfed in the smell of Biscoff cookies and watching college football on a cool fall day. That wave of nostalgia and fond memories of my grandparents washed over me and very quickly it was hard not to get choked up.
To this day, although they have since passed away, I continue to value those small messages and tidbits that they had graced me with in my childhood. As I grow older, I tend to think back to those little messages and quotes that they left me with, and I begin to ponder and truly understand the meaning of what they truly had intended. Maybe this is because as I grow older, I understand more about the world than I did back then. Every day I think of those small moments and the time spent with them and how they were always there for me even though I may not have always been as available as I could have been. Like Lee and Judy, my grandparents Raymond and Lenora were always there with open arms. As time passed and I heard stories about their early lives that I had not previously been exposed to, I began to understand how much I value the people in my life and the experiences they can share with me to help me better understand the world around me.
As has been the case with all the blog posts that I have read from you. This does not fail to open my eyes once again to things that I tend to overlook in my life. I understand that often these responses can feel very forced, but I genuinely find great wisdom from your posts, and I value a lot of the stories that you tell. Thank you again for allowing me the opportunity to re-evaluate how I see things and the people around me.
Tyler,
Thank you for sharing the story about your grandparents. Parents and grandparents are immortal until we lose them. We do not understand or imagine life without them. I am glad you have the memories and the joy that you express in your response here.
On my desk, I have a picture of my grandmother when she was only 18 or 19 years old. She is still my hero. She was the person who loved me unconditionally. It is a privilege to read your words here. I am sure your grandparents are proud of you.
Dr. Martin
As I read through your blog, hearing and feeling all of the positivity and love that came from Lee and Judy’s hospitality and friendship reminded me of someone I see in a very similar light. In 2017 and 2018, I was given the opportunity to be apart of Habitat for Humanity through my church, which was at the time, called “Parker Hill”. On this trip, over two hundred students volunteered and raised money to be apart of this team and to travel and work to build homes for families that normally experienced low to no income. We traveled, by bus, to Birmingham, Alabama, where we stayed in a musty church basement for the week. Sure, these conditions were not ideal and definitely do not come close to what Lee and Judy provided. However, like how you expressed in your writing, I too found comfort, friendship, peace and overall felt welcomed because of the amazing and the most selfless person I know, Kelly Kongvold. Kelly was someone I have known all throughout my life, however, it was not because her and I had this bond for that entire time. She grew to be more and more present as time went on, as she was my older sisters “small group leader”, which is essentially just an adult in the church that is there to answer questions, be a person to listen when you need to explode, and to be a happy and recognizable face that will make us, students, confident and/or eager in wanting to come back and share more. However, my sister, Bridget, and Kelly became very close and their relationship became more of best friends than just an adult talking to a high schooler. Although, on this trip, Bridget was not with me, Kelly still chose to come check on me everyday, made sure I was okay, encouraged good spirits for the start of our early mornings, and would come to see if I needed anything at all. She felt like my mom away from home. I trusted her. I knew she would make sure I was okay. Because of these trips, I realized that I too saw Kelly Kongvold as a (mom)-best friend, a protecter, and the perfect mix of “tell me anything” and “Aniela, let’s think this one through”.
Just maybe one year after those trips, Kelly’s son, Bridget’s best friend, and therefore, a brother to me, had been rushed to the hospital at the age of 18. As the photographer he was, he had been in the woods taking shots of a friend for their senior pictures when he had stretched, and being the tall and rather thin guy he was, he ended up pulling the bones in his chest in a way that dropped his heart, leading in a heart attack. Because of being in this secluded area, it was difficult to get service and call for help. By the time he had made it to the hospital, they had come to the conclusion that her son, Evan, was brain dead. I apologize for this story taking such a sudden and despondent turn, however, how Kelly responded after this situation changed my perspective on life, similar to how Judy shaped your life. The matter of death is not an easy experience in general, however, loosing your child, your baby, is something that seems much deeper and traumatizing for a family to go through. Kelly and her husband, Freedom, both sat at Evans’ bedside for hours holding his hand and praying to God for peace. Seeing all of this from my perspective was heartbreaking, cruel, unfair, yet somehow, through everything, they chose to pray. They chose to cry, and to scream, but they chose to do all of that to God and to look to him instead of blaming or disassociating themselves from their faith. They chose to tell the happy stories of Evan. They chose to celebrate Evan and trust God. Not only hearing this, but physically seeing all of this love that surrounded the room, overpowering all our cries, was inspiring and transformative for that young girl in that room. I believe that that day has changed my life in tremendous amounts of ways and has made me reach to living everyday as the very last and very best day of my life. I chose not to hold myself back, but instead, allow and encourage myself to take a minute the see the art in noticing. I am constantly surrounded by beauty, love, sunshine, and so much more, I can go on forever. From that day forward, my goal in life became choosing to find the good and find joy in all of life moments, for we are so lucky to have the lives we do.
-Aniela Connolly
Aniela,
I have goosebumps as I finish reading this. What a powerful witness of faith and love. What a profoundly freak accident and tragic way to lose a son. I remember the first time I saw my father cry was when I lost a brother at 26. He was a husband and a father to three children four or younger. Life is indeed a precious thing. I appreciate you more each time I see you, listen to you, or are blessed to have you in class.
Thank you.
Dr. Martin
Hi Dr. Martin!
Reading this post made me feel like I personally know this seemingly wonderful couple. It made me think of the many people I have in my life who I feel a similar kinship with. I can think of several couples that over the years have poured into my own life. Their constant support and eagerness to invite me into their lives have impacted me greatly. Even at the meager age of nineteen, I can predict that their wise words delivered over late-night visits and large gatherings will linger with me forever. Or if not, at least the impression of paraphrased warnings will stay with me, haunting me in the form of a nameless memory.
In every situation, I’ve always been so touched by their willingness to invite people in. They are so quick to give and sow into others, expecting absolutely nothing in return. They sacrifice time and resources to serve others. In a lot of cases, these couples that have greatly impacted me have been found in my church. So for a lot of them, our time together is centered around our faith. It has been the biggest blessing to have older, more mature Christians pour into me. I’ve been so blessed with community. This blessing is one that I easily take for granted. Thank you for the reminder of how precious those moments are and how impactful.
Until next time,
Novalea Verno
Dr. Martin, that story was incredible, I am touched by your experience with Judy and Lee. I like how they welcomed you into their home with open arms, supported you in your journey, saw the potential that you had, and pushed you to do your best. I have never gotten to experience something like your LYE group but it sounds like a fun thing to partake in.
This story had me reminiscing about my great-grandparents, when I was a child they lived in an independent living facility and I would go to visit just about every day. While visiting I would go around and talk to all of the residents, giving them updates about what I was learning in school, eat dinner with them, and join them for their afternoon activities. They were always so warm and welcoming being so willing to listen to what I had to say. The residents would tell me I am so smart and encourage me to excel in school. Amount talking with the residents I would also talk with the nursing staff. They would let me watch what they were doing and help out in any ways I could with my grandparents. The nurses would often tell me that I was caring and compassionate and I should consider it for a career. Here I am many years later trying to do just that, who would have thought?
After reading your story and reminiscing about a big part of my childhood it has made me realize that I one day hope I can be like Judy and Lee. I hope I am able to be warm, welcoming, and encouraging to others and support them in their journey. It is heartwarming to know that people like Judy and Lee are remembered in such an impactful way and that you have such fond memories with them. It is definitely something inspiring.
Hayley,
Much like the joy you brought to so many people as a young person, you learned that age is a number, but we can cross generations, life-styles, and profoundly different experiences and still make a difference. I am sure that you brightened the days of more people than you will ever realize.
As someone moves into the place they are no longer in their own space, it is difficult to feel that you have the same value you did. You provided value and joy to each of those people you met. And I am sure your great-grandparents were proud of their sociable and kind great-grandaughter. You made a difference, and you will continue to do so in your life as a care professional.
Thank you for your thoughts.
Dr. Martin
Dr. Martin,
Thank you for sharing your wonderful story about your experiences with Judy and Lee. It is amazing that they opened their home and showed you so much love and insight on the world. Judy and Lee make me think a lot about my grandparents back home. Before I was born, my grandparents hosted an exchange student. I hear the stories that they tell me all the time! This is a little bit different than the LYE group that you took part in, but is based on the same concept. My grandparents opened their home and taught their exchange students many life lessons, gave great advice, and made sure that the person they were taking care of felt loved and supported in their exchange home.
I love that you said when you travel, you always stop at your home away from home. That shows how impactful Judy and Lee were for you. To continue to be in contact with them, visit each other, and discuss life deeper is truly a blessing. I hope that some day I can do this for someone too.
Growing up I was always an only child. My hope was that my parents would agree to host a student, but because of other reasons it never worked out. I hope that when I am older, I can open my home and experience what it is like to host someone, even though I would be the parent in the situation now. I am a very open and caring person, and hope that some of the traits Judy and Lee have are also seen in me.
Thank you for your blog post, it was eye opening and heartwarming!
Carly Spodofora
DR. Marin,
This blog post resonates with me a lot since my grandparents on my dads side hosted an exchange student all throughout high school. They used to text me about her all the time and all the amazing experiences they created for her. It truly is such a remarkable thing to do especially when you see others do it as well. I believe Judy and Lee had the same thoughts my grandparents had and were rewarded for it. They all lived down in Maryland which is where my family and I would go on vacation at every year. Being able to not just see my grandparents but also see her was a great time. I loved being able to hear more about Judy and Lee’s story and maybe one day I will open my home up to an exchange student just as they did.
Thanks,
Cody VanBenthuysen
Dr. Martin
Judy, and Lee sound like they were amazing friends to have. The way you describe Judy’s cooking reminds me a lot of my Nana as she made even canned spaghettiOs taste amazing. They honestly sound like the way someone would describe their grandparents as most people believe grannies have the best cooking. Lee’s love of cars reminds me a lot of my grandpa, and father as they love cars. They’re always talking about makes and models and car dates, always fixing them up.