Introduction: Beginning a series of stories that focus on "conversations with strangers." I will be adding stories one at a time until.... This series is open ended at this point. Initially I am writing for the TT-PiSTLE weekly newsletter sent out to members of the Trinity Episcopal Cathedral, Davenport, Iowa.
After being ordained Deacon in June of 1955, Bishop Smith assigned me to be vicar at St. George’s, LeMars, IA., and curate at St. Thomas Church, Sioux City, IA. I soon learned it was C.B. Chesterman (owned both the 7UP and Coca Cola franchises) who was funding my salary. Not only that, he wanted to meet with me once a month. That had me more than curious. The once a month turned out to be a dinner at the best restaurant in town. I was the guest of CB and his wife. Picture a 25 year-old at dinner with a couple in their 80’s. We soon were comfortable with each other and the evenings were great. He didn’t pry too much into what I was doing as a curate. I don’t remember when it was, but they were an amazing couple and I had to ask, “You both seem to enjoy each other, and you have a lot of laughs, what is the secret to your relationship?” Without hesitation, CB replies, “We don’t know each other yet.” I had to repeat that to see if I understood correctly. I remember we briefly explored what that meant. I have kept that one liner in my consciousness, and I hope the line resides in my sub conscious as conversations move to a deeper level beyond the casual. I extend this invitation to all of us, “we don’t know each other yet.”
Story 3: We knew each other before we met
When pastor Lavin was at St Paul’s Lutheran Church in Davenport, IA., back in the 1970’s, he had a number of small groups that met regularly. They were called koinenia groups. They were patterned after books written by Howard Clinebell, a pastoral theologian.
A Lutheran pastor from the Netherlands came to America to learn more about the small group movement. When he visited St. Paul’s, Pastor Lavin told him about our Befriender program. I soon had a visitor in the pastoral care office at St. Luke’s Hospital. We began to share information about our training lay people in pastoral care. Each of us understood the other since our programs were almost identical. They were so much alike we began skipping thoughts since we knew what the other would say. I have never had a conversation like that since. He said he had written a book about his work. I said send me a copy. He said it’s in Dutch. I said that’s okay. He did send the book. And in the front page he wrote, “We knew each other before we met.” I had a Palmer student from Holland translate certain pages that helped me know about his pastoral work. We were definitely ground breakers at the time in our separate countries.
Story 4. Two Iowa Farmers give me a Lesson in Metaphors.
Two Iowa farmers give me a lesson in metaphors. (part 1)
Back in 1976 I was still seeing people before surgery. I called on Mr. Giebelstein who was from the same Cedar County farm area where I lived for 8 1/2 years. While focusing on his surgery I learned he had gone to barn dances where my father was the fiddle player. The new information caused me to negotiate a visit to tape record some stories. He agreed. I concluded with a prayer and left. In a few days I was back to record.
To introduce my father as a fiddle player I said, “I have the violin and the case. It needs some strings, the bow needs to be restrung.”
He said, “Well you know they wear and give out with age. Just like we do. Wither away.” I provide an open-ended response. “There is wear and tear to us.”
He said, “Yah but you gave me quite an encouragement. You know when I came to the hospital I had given up all hope and faith of coming out of here. …”
There is more. No stories about my father. I am being called to respond as a chaplain. He has moved the broken bow strings to his own life, wear and tear, and not surviving. A metaphorical move of the first order.
