Recollections and Reckonings

Hello from the Shadows of the Clock Tower in Menomonie,

I have sort of snuck into town for a couple days. I was blessed to share dinner with two couples last evening, one a former colleague and his partner, and the second two incredible friends and culinary inventors by whom I was regularly blessed when I lived here. I hope to do some mutual working over the next day to help him prepare for his coming New Years soirée. Coming back to Menomonie evokes the entire gamut of thoughts and possible emotions because there is so much that happened in the six years I lived here, as well as the additional 6 years I returned regularly to spend time with Lydia. This New Year’s Day will be 9 years ago she passed away. It is stunning that much time has passed.

My last two visits, I have stayed a a new hotel, built on the block across from Harvey Hall and the tower. Former businesses on this block included a coffee shop where I spent significant time and a pizza restaurant where Dan and I were known to have our students. Later, while caring for Lydia, there was a corner pharmacy where I spend a lot of time getting her meds. In fact, the breakfast area of the Inn is on the exact footprint of the pharmacy. And of course, other establishments like The Logjam, Acoustic Cafe, or the Raw Deal create recollections of conversations, of time spent grading, or sharing a meal over the 20 years since I first came to Dunn County. There are the places that no longer exist that are central parts of my memories on the Red Cedar River and Lake Menomin (and some also on Tainter Lake) – Zanzibar Restaurant, where many a night in conversation with Mark while sipping on an Akvavit and tonic, or the original Caribou Coffee location, where much of my dissertation was written, (and there is a second location now and perhaps a third). Those places bring back memories of people, one who would travel back from Placerville to Menomonie one summer, students who would come to see me at Caribou, Acoustic, or the Raw Deal and ask questions. There were colleagues that I worked with in Dr. Daniel Riordan’s Teaching and Learning Center, some of whom are treasured to this day. I think of former restaurants, like The Creamery in Downsville, a place I heard about before I even arrived. Strange how so many memories have to do with food and beverage, right?? Probably not. Today, I met with a former student and her two children. She sat in the back of my composition classroom almost twenty years ago. Little did I know that she would be the person who would first try to manage Lydia in Lydia’s own home. Little did I know she would edit a dissertation for me. Little did I know that even today, she would drive with her two incredible children to have lunch with me, only yards away from the building where she first graced my classroom. Menomonie was a place that both provided a start for me as an academic, and simultaneously almost buried me. I was fortunate to have those, both in academe as well as in town, step up and support me. Dr. Daniel Riordan almost single-handedly guided me through that final year. Dr. Mark Decker, even though he was in Pennsylvania, gave me an exit ramp. Mark and Robin Johnson were always there, even after I left to make coming back to Menomonie a homecoming, even until today. And then there is Lydia . . .

It was nine years ago to this day, I saw Lydia for the last time. I would be flying to Poland the next day, the first of a number of trips. Lydia was fading, but hanging on with all her might. In spite of the belief she would pass in about three days, she would live another 13. As I sat on the floor by her bed that evening, I wept quietly because I knew I would not see her again. Fortunately, Nate and his family were driving in from North Carolina to be with her, making sure she did not pass away without anyone there. All of the sudden, I felt Lydia’s hand on my shoulder. She had been mostly non-responsive that last two days. I looked at her with tears in my eyes, leaking down my face, and I whispered to her, “You became my mother.” She managed a faint smile, and responded, “I know.” I told her in a breaking voice that I loved her, and she again responded, “I love you too.” I moved up to her side and hugged her. She closed her eyes, and I stood by her side as my shoulders began to shake. Her room was at the end of the hall, directly across from the family gathering place. I went out there, and sunk into an over-stuffed chair, and I wept. The person who changed my life in so many ways, and did so long after her passing, was about to leave a world that saw her move from more than one country in Europe to more than one continent in the world. I went back to her home, gathered my things, and I would return to her room one last time that evening. I entered her room, and she was sleeping peacefully. I bent over her and gently kissed her on the forehead, and I whispered so softly I barely heard my own voice, “Lydia, I love you.” Once again, I went out to the same chair and did my own reprise of my earlier event, sitting and crying unabashedly a second time. It was now snowing, and the the roads would be slippery, and I was flying out of the Mpls/St. Paul airport early in the morning. As I left that time, I knew life would not be the same, nor would Menomonie. Lydia, would live until New Year’s Day, and again, the debt of gratitude I have toward the Langton’s for being there those last days is unpayable. There were also others who cared for Lydia at times, from the incredible staff at Comforts of Home those last three-plus years, from my former student who lived above her to a second student, who lived in my little house the first year I was in Bloomsburg. She did her best to manage the little Austrian tornado, who did little to make her life any easier. Some of the things Lydia did to make her life difficult defy logic, but that was Lydia. She had a stubbornness that was unmatched, particularly when she was such a diminutive character. While her stature was small, there was nothing about her otherwise that lacked size. So in the almost decade that has passed, so many things have happened, and the majority of them in my new location.

Since leaving Stout (and Menomonie as a full-time resident) the summer of 2009, I have been blessed to call Bloomsburg my home. It is actually the zip code I have resided in the longest since graduating from high school. My time in Bloomsburg, both professionally and personally, created an individual who is now fortunate to say he has been in the academy, has mentored and instructed a generation of students, and has been blessed to be a member of a community where I would like to believe I have made some contributions that have changed people’s lives. Between creating professional relationships both at the university and in town, I have been enriched in my own life. At times unexpectedly, fortuitously, events or people have come across my path that have changed my life in ways unanticipated. That first trip to Poland, noted above, introduced to me an incredible colleague, professor, who allowed me to travel with him to Poland (and Central/Eastern Europe) on subsequent trips. Those trips and experiences changed my life beyond measure, from experiencing an entirely different part of the world to spending two summers to begin learning Polish. I have met people who continue to be in my life, each of them a blessing in their own manner. I believe it was my own traveling aboard, which had not happened for 25 years, that prompted me to become a host parent for exchange students. Now, even though the first student who spent significant time with me was not technically a program student. I have a Russian daughter because of it. Two additional sons, one from Denmark and one from Estonia, both blessed and taught me in very different ways. I am a better person because of all three of them. My view of myself and the world has changed significantly because of my travel and the people I have met. This past couple years, rather than Europe, I went south to Central and South America. Those experiences were also incredibly life-changing. I am always amazed by the cultures that I have immersed in as I travel, from their values and philosophies to their languages and the food, there is so much to learn.

As I move into this new year, rather than thinking of the past, I find myself being pushed into the future, a future that will include retirement during this calendar year. While I am thinking and planning, I believe there is a certain consistency with most of my life. I am unsure of what will happen, and while in the past I was not worried about that, allowing choices to dictate my path, there has to be some planning, mostly in the area of healthcare, and a reality that says, in spite of our expertise, our wealth, and our ability, the way we manage our healthcare is abysmal. I have made my appointments with insurances, with Medicare, and with my pension personnel. I am working on making sure there are no surprises. And yet, I am open to whatever happens on the other side of August. I have possibilities and plans; I have considered various options, and even some new ones, and the excitement and chance of working toward something mutual is beyond what I ever imagined possible. As I often tell my students, ponder, plan, and believe in yourself and the options. Whatever choice you make, do the best at it you can. While my expectations are always exciting, I do believe that living in the moment matters. As I move into this next year, I will savor each experience, both wondering about the future, but building on my past. I wish you all a wonderful end of this year, and a prosperous and blessed new one to come. I will believe in the possibilities and move forward with a sure and certain hope.

Thank you as always for reading and Blessed New Year!

Dr. Martin