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Title: Augsburgs Historie Foredrag, 1893: Augsburg's History Lecture
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Chapel Talks, Sermons & Addresses, Essays by Dr. Kenneth C. Bailey
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1903
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1904
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1905
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1906
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1907
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1908
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1909
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1910
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1911
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1912
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1913
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Gasseren 1914
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Old Main (1902-) Dedication Book: Mindeblade om indvielsen af Augsburg Seminariums nye bygning 1ste-3die Januar 1902
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Old Main (1902-) Dedication Program
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Paul Pribbenow Inauguration Program
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Program for Augsburg Seminarium, 1874
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Program ved Indvielsen af Augsburgs Seminarium, 1872
Collection: Augsburg Histories

Title: Takk for Alt: A Life Story
Collection: Augsburg Histories
Search Result: I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I F-~"lllfls k*'itf\:-A -·r-&R~t<1~J}t,~r-·,flsvmih~~-;:\:-:'5'··:t?\01:::1('" -"'·' :.: Alt: AL.£ 1 e St Ory 'IBy 'f8}gr't'JmrW,• UJ1eY To rs tens on Ruth Ann Torstenson Schwartz, Editor Minneapolis, Minnesota 2004 TABLE OF CONTENTS PREFACE 1 ...
Show more I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I F-~"lllfls k*'itf\:-A -·r-&R~t<1~J}t,~r-·,flsvmih~~-;:\:-:'5'··:t?\01:::1('" -"'·' :.: Alt: AL.£ 1 e St Ory 'IBy 'f8}gr't'JmrW,• UJ1eY To rs tens on Ruth Ann Torstenson Schwartz, Editor Minneapolis, Minnesota 2004 TABLE OF CONTENTS PREFACE 1 CHAPTER I: My Life with the Primary Family 3 CHAPTER II: Legacies from Norway 18 CHAPTER III: Beyond the Family Farm 24 CHAPTER IV: The Quest for Authenticity in the World Order 26 CHAPTER V: Testing Alternative Futures 41 CHAPTER VI: My Life as a College Professor 54 CHAPTER VII: Life and Learning Beyond Retirement 83 CHAPTER VIII: The Heart of My Life 101 PHOTOGRAPHS 122 Preface In the fall of 1982, I was asked by the director of adult education at Trinity Lutheran Congregation to share some reflections on the source and substance of my religious faith. In preparing for that presentation, my reflections were inevitably shaped by the disciplines of thought and the perspectives about time and place derived from my studies in history and sociology. I headed my presentation with the title "The Social Geography of My Conscience and Consciousness." Implicit in such a title was the assumption that both one's consciousness and conscience at any time in life are inevitably fashioned by the prevailing ethos of all the significant others in one's life at that particular pt;riod in history. With this as a basic premise, I proceeded to review my past, identifying those significant others in each period of my life--my parents and their significant ethnic roots; my intimate family and the family farm; the Haugian-oriented Lutheran church and its neighborhood; my educational experiences from grade school to college; and many other socio-cultural encounters with life. Some of my contemporary "significant others" in that Trinity assembly were apparently pleased with my presentation and suggested that I should write my memoirs. That was the first time that such an idea came to my mind. That was fifteen years ago. Presumably, at the age of seventy, I had already "lived my active life" and should now have little else to do but reflect on my past. But somehow my active life continued much as before, and the thought of writing my memoirs never captured my interest. Now that I have reached the age of 84 and am gratefully still in good health, the thought of reminiscing about my life and identifying with gratitude the people and social groups and organizations that have contributed much to my life has become more ·attractive. Not long ago, one of our most distinguished literary personalities, Studs Terkel, addressed our local "Minnesota Meeting" about the challenges for older people to tell the stories of their past and share them with the present generation. The thought occurred to me that perhaps dabbling with a memoir might not, after all, be meaningless. As Terkel noted in his speech and also elaborated on in his recent book, Coming of Age, "remembrance is the attribute that most distinguishes" the lives of the elderly. Even though Mr. Terkel and I are chronological peers, having both entered history in 1912, I must acknowledge that even my best dabbling will likely miss the mark of significance he had in mind. But what is so gracious about Mr. Terkel is his generosity of spirit with people less literate than he. That gives all of our age courage to do what we can. On the Hazards of Interpreting One's Biography My exposure to sociological and historical studies has made me aware of at least some of the hazards of interpreting one's own biography. I know that the eourse of events in one's life can be subjected to alternate interpretations. We are always both interpreting and re-interpreting our past. In a sense, memory is an act of re-interpretation. At our best, we will seek a deliberate, fully conscious, and intelligently integrated reinterpretation of our past. It is in this spirit that I have sought to describe my changing social geography and draw from those memories a portrait of my evolving conscience and consciousness. As I have dabbled in these memories of my life, one thing above all has impressed me--the debt of gratitude I owe to the many significant others in my life and the many groups and institutions that have enriched it. It is this that has prompted the title for this document Takk For Alt--the beautiful expression found on so many tombstones in Norwegian cemeteries meaning--Thanks for Everything! 2 Part One: My Life with the Primary Family In the Beginning November 8, 1912 was the date of my entry into history. Everyone at one time or another likely tries to imagine the situation or the circumstances surrounding the occasion of one's birth. Perhaps some fantasize about the joys and fascinations with which one's arrival is celebrated. But I can't possibly imagine such a celebration for my arrival into the life of the Torstenson family in the modest farm home on the banks of the Lac Qui Parle River in western Minnesota more than eighty years ago. Being the last of a large family of five sisters and five brothers, I can imagine no such celebratory reception. More likely responses were something like the following: "Oh no! Not another screaming bundle of protoplasm to become yet another member of our already crowded household!" "When is this ever going to end?" To add to these understandable but likely misgivings, this little new brother could hardly have been the cutest little baby to cuddle and nurture, since he was born with a cleft palate. Yet, in spite of such a precarious beginning, I have never felt rejected by any of my brothers and sisters and certainly not by my mother and father. Hence, I will begin my reflections about my early childhood with some comments about my relations with each of my brothers and sisters and then with my father and mother. My Brother Ludolph Since my brother Ludolph, shared the fate of being one of the last two children in a family of eleven, and since he was only one and a half years older than I, we came to be identified by the older members of the family as the "kids" of the household. While this 3 designation became somewhat distasteful as we approached adolescence, it contributed to a special kind of bonding between us that has lasted throughout our lives. As children we were constantly playing together, improvising our own toys with wheels from abandoned toy wagons, homemade stilts, curious playhouses, and so on that we salvaged from the tool shed, the garage, and other farm home sources. Perhaps our most creative play activity centered around our play farm and imaginary community along the banks of the Lac Qui Parle River, which included a family farm home and roads to the village market using abandoned gadgets from the family kitchen and machine shops. We enjoyed these play activities fully as much as contemporary children playing with highly expensive toys. Since Ludolph's birthday was in April and mine in November, our parents agreed that we would begin elementary school at the same time, contributing to a community perception ofus as the "Torstenson Twins." However, there was never any doubt in my mind that Ludolph was my "older" brother, and I think my parents assumed that he would "take care" of his younger brother. As children generally do, we internalized these expectations and played out roles in conformity with them. This was clearly dramatized in one of our early morning two-mile ~alks to our neighborhood one-room school. To shorten the distance, we took a diagonal walk across a plowed field. I found it difficult to keep up with Ludolph, and clearly understanding our expected role relations, I sat down. Ludolph, also complying with the same role expectations, stopped to help me up. In later years, we have playfully noted that this was the beginning of the "Sit Down Strikes" movement launched by the automobile workers in the 1930's. As we grew older, we became increasingly co--equal playmates, classmates in public elementary education as well as in parochial school and Confirmation instruction. We also assumed special family functions together, such as weeding and hoeing the large family garden; picking strawberries, raspberries, and gooseberries; and doing chores around the barn and chicken coop. Later, when our mother suffered a debilitating stroke, we assumed major housekeeping roles--doing the family laundry, baking bread, churning butter, and cleaning house. By then, our older sisters had left to establish their own homes. 4 When we reached high school age, we were matriculated in a private academy-the Lutheran Normal School in Madison, Minnesota. Since our mother could no longer help her high school children with food and other provisions in rented rooms in Dawson, as she had done for some of the older brothers and sisters, our parents found this arrangement in the Academy a good alternative. We continued our household duties during the weekends. To relieve some of the stress on the limited family resources, Ludolph and I became the mail carriers for the Academy, thus paying part of our school costs. All of these joint ventures from infancy to adolescence quite naturally contributed to a special bonding between us. But in the middle of the second year at the Academy, Ludolph became desperately ill with Rheumatic Fever, which significantly altered our relationship. While the first attack left lasting health impairment, continued recurrences shattered virtually all our shared expectations of completing high school together and pursuing whatever post high school ventures that might follow. For nearly two decades, Ludolph struggled with the debilitating impact of the illness, while I was fortunately able to pursue college and post-graduate studies and begin my career in teaching. All through those troublesome years, we maintained a continuous friendly relationship. But, while I was only encountering the typical academic tests from time to time, Ludolph was struggling with one difficult life test after another and ultimately passing them. By 1945, Ludolph was finally able to begin what became his lifetime career. Joining in marriage to Alpha and in a successful insurance and real estate business in Dawson with his brother, Olaf, transformed his life. Ever since we have enjoyed a mutual respect for each other and shared many joint family ventures. While many details of our relationships have been omitted from this account, enough has been shared to make clear that Ludolph played a special role in my life. Throughout our long life, I think we have shared a mutual admiration and respect for each other, even if likely too often unexpressed. My Other Older Brothers While my relations with my other older brothers were different from those, which I enjoyed with Ludolph, each had an impact on my life. Each could merit a separate 5 account, but for the purpose of these memoirs, some general observations about all of them together with some special comments about each must suffice. Oscar In some ways, my relations with my oldest brother, Oscar, were different from that of the others. By the time I had reached an age of conscious memory, he had already left the family domicile to pursue his own grown-up life. His whole life in many ways provided a dramatic "ideal type" model for first generation children of ScandinavianAmerican families in rural Minnesota. His first adult years were spent as a hired man for neighboring farms, followed by beginning farming as a renter of a neighborhood farm. That first year he lost virtually all his personal possessions as his house was demolished by a fire while he was working one of the fields. His neighbors demonstrated the best American virtues by staging a surprise party for him, which provided him with funds for replenishing some of his losses. After that rather dismal beginning, Oscar launched a highly successful farming career--raising good crops, building a productive dairy herd, and maintaining other aspects of a wellbalanced diversified farm. From a strictly human perspective, perhaps his most fortunate break was to find a great life-mate, Selma Quall, who whole-heartedly supported him in his many life ventures. It was noted in Selma's Morris Agricultural School's Annual, that she was "a friend to everybody, and everybody' s friend." I think that appraisal was shared by all of us in the Torstenson family. Besides his conventional farming activities, Oscar pursued other ventures as a thresher, a buyer and trainer of western broncos for farm horses, and many other vital activities. All of these activities added to his growing assets, which he invested in land ownership of the farm he had rented and other farms in the area. But what perhaps most impressed me, was that Oscar was more than a successful farmer and what is often heralded in America as a "self-made man;" he was also a good and respected neighbor. He admired and respected his parents and loved his wife and daughter Marlys. During the great depression of the thirties, he demonstrated his deep commitment to the populist values of his heritage, taking on leadership activities in the 6 growing Farmers Union, the Farm Holiday Movement, and the development of rural electrification. It can be confidently said that he played a leading role in the development of the R. E. A. program in the Lac Qui Parle and neighboring counties. Its members, who elected him president of its Board of Directors, apparently acknowledged this role. While Oscar's community leadership activities constantly expanded his social horizons and his political and social contacts throughout Minnesota and other states of the country, he always remained loyal to his family and friends in the local community. Even ifhe shared some of frontier America's skepticism about higher education, he always responded to my activities in that arena with respect and, I think, a certain amount of pride. I will always cherish our friendship and his legacy. My association with Olaf, Bardolph, and Selmer was somewhat different from that of Oscar. As they were passing through the stages of adolescence to adulthood, they became role models for Ludolph and me. They all assumed increasingly important work responsibilities on our family farm, which we began to emulate, as we grew older. They all enrolled in Dawson High School under difficult economic and social circumstances. Olaf found the experience most gratifying, doing well academically, playing leading roles in school plays, and excelling in musical activities. Had the economic situation been more favorable it is quite likely, he would have continued on to college. Bardolph (AKA Bud) and Selmer withdrew to take increasing responsibility for the growing need for help on the farm. All these older brothers in some sense became role models for Ludolph and me. We observed their association with and hosting of friends at our home, and we were allowed to participate in some of their play activities such as splashing around in our highly prized neighborhood swimming hole, playing outdoor games in our home yard and an adjacent meadow, and of course indoor games such as rook, dominoes, and carems. Olaf My relations with each of these three brothers were altered by the varied circumstances involved. Olaf's life-long struggle with a steadily increasing Parkinson's affliction made all of the family sad. I noted with admiration his creative responses to the 7 frustrations, defying the conventional "frustration to aggression" syndrome. He kept on with his musical interests, singing tenor in the Dale-Torstenson quartette and other musical activities. After abandoning his bakery activities, which had been launched by a professional training program at the Dunwoody Institute in Minneapolis, he joined our brother-in-law, Pete Vollan, in a farming venture. It was in this situation that I had the closest relations with Olaf, since at the same time I lived at the Vollan home while teaching a neighborhood one-room elementary school. The farming venture itself turned out to be a great frustration. The first year produced a bumper crop associated with a catastrophic collapse of the grain market. The following year an awesome draught virtually destroyed all the farm crops. In spite of these overwhelming frustrations, he volunteered his talents to participate in the Debating Society program I had launched in our school district, as well as to play a leading role in a three-act play that was staged in several locations in the larger community. All the while, his relations with all ofus at the Vollan household were friendly and brotherly. He continued to struggle bravely with farming near Madison, even as his Parkinson's symptoms grew, until he was finally compelled to abandon that occupation and prepare himself for the insurance and real-estate profession which he pursued in Dawson for the rest of his life. Like the rest of his brothers, he had the good fortune of meeting and marrying a wonderful life-mate, Ruth, with whom he established a loving family, a good home, and an honored social community reputation. As I noted earlier, in dealing with his life-long battle with Parkinson, Olaf spurned the "frustration to aggression" syndrome, and instead nurtured a spirit of sensitive, sympathetic understanding of other people's tribulations. This was matched by a growing commitment to a philosophy of non-violence and peaceful reconciliation in human relations. He joined the National Fellowship of Reconciliation and gave much thought to its relations with Christianity. Shortly before Christmas in 1977, he produced an insightful six-page document reflecting his thinking about these matters. The document clearly indicated he had done much reading and thinking about issues of love and reconciliation vs. the dynamics of war and revolution and made references to the life and work of Mahatma Ghandi and Martin Luther King. The Bible also contributed to his thinking on these issues and he 8 referred to many of Jesus' sayings about peace. I have since learned that Olaf also found inspiration from the Prophets of the Old Testament and their cry for justice. Thus, it can be said that Olaf was passionately concerned for both justice, as well as peace. For this and much more, I cherish my memories of Olaf. One of the most remarkable tum of events in our family history was the coming together of Ludolph, with his long struggle with the legacies of Rheumatic Fever, and Olaf, with his life-long battle with Parkinson's, to carry on a successful life-insurance and real-estate enterprise in Dawson and its surrounding community. Bud In a special way, Bud made possible my continued comfortable connections with the Torstenson family homestead. He became the most sustained farm hand and eventually the farm manager of the homestead. During my many summer vacations, I had the privilege of working for him on the farm, earning decent pay and enjoying very congenial working relations. He too married a wonderful woman who helped make my frequent visits and longer stays at the homestead comfortable and pleasant. Selma's beautiful relations with my mother and dad, helping them make their upstairs apartment life cozy and pleasant, has been greatly appreciated by all of the family. My father frequently alluded to how grateful he was for Bud's kindness, as well as his able management of the farming enterprise. Even while he rejoiced in Bud and Selma's opportunity to become owner-operators of their own family farm through the New Deal Farm Home Administration, I know he was a bit saddened by the ending of this close relationship with Bud and his little family. Fortunately Tilda, Pete, and Irene Vollan were able to fill in the breach. Beyond his kindness and loyalty to members of our family, Bud in many unpretentious ways took leadership roles in community affairs such as the local school board, the church council, farmers' union activities, etc. In many ways, he performed community activities in a style and spirit not unlike that of his father. 9 Selmer Selmer too took leadership roles in school, church, farm operations, and other community affairs. In many ways, he played out the classic role expected of a farmer committed to the historic American family-farm dream. He began prudently by building a home on a small farm, carefully planning and managing both his land and livestock, and adding to his holdings as his resources warranted. Like the other brothers, he was supportive of my educational hopes and dreams, including lending me the necessary money for my first college ventures. His commitment to education was significantly complemented by his good wife Mildred, who besides being a superb elementary school teacher, shared both Selmer's family farm dream and his support for school, church, and community affairs. It was also clear to Selmer that the "family farm dream" should also include a vital concern for community life and nurture. He was always concerned about the community, the land, the water, and the environment. This was clearly reflected in his extensive involvement in community affairs. He first served on the local township board, the local school board, and the local cooperative telephone company board as his father had done may years earlier. As one of the leaders of the telephone board, he became dynamically involved in its transformation to a Rural Telephone Association (R.T.A.) patterned after the popular Rural Electric Association. He was president of that local R.T.A. when it became the first Minnesota R. T .A. to secure the federal loan, which made its telephone system one of the best in rural Minnesota. Selmer later became active in other local cooperatives including the Dawson Cooperative Credit Union, which he helped launch and on which he served later as board President. Responding to the changes in the farm culture introduced by the "New Deal" farm programs such as the Triple A (Agricultural Adjustment Act) and the Social Conservation Service legislation, he became the first local township committee member measuring allotment acres and sealing grain in farm storage for government loans. He later served on the Lac Qui Parle County Board, promoting soil conservation practices and commodity price supports. 10 Like his brother, Bud, and his father he played an active role in the local rural Lutheran Congregation. My Sisters Tilda Since two of my sisters had died before my birth, I will only comment on my relations with the other three - Tilda, Marie, and Esther. Each of them had special significance for my life. My oldest sister, Tilda, was sixteen when I arrived on the family scene. I can imagine she had become my mother's main household helper. When by that time the household contained nine children sixteen years and younger, her tasks as chief household helper must have been awesome. What she must have given up of her own personal wishes as a young 16-year-old can only be imagined. During my childhood years, I am certain that I took her home-making role for granted. Virtually everything that gave security to my boyhood was undoubtedly touched by her hands--the preparation of the daily meals, the never ending tasks of house cleaning, the laundry work, and all the rest. Unhappily, I was too immature to show my gratitude appropriately. Such an opportunity came much later in my life when, for three years, I lived at her Vollan home while teaching in a one-room elementary school in their neighborhood. I experienced first hand the faithfulness, steadiness, and dignity with which she discharged her homemaking duties. But beyond that, I came to know Tilda as a caring, tender person whose unselfish love touched all of us in the household-- her husband Pete, her daughter Irene, and even the brothers Olaf and myself. Since her daughter Irene began school as I began my teaching, a special quality of Tilda's life became evident to me. Beyond the normal concerns of a mother for her child's first three years in school, Tilda took a special interest and delight in the entire educational venture. She was interested in every aspect of school's activities. While preparing for Christmas programs, she learned virtually all the lines of the dialogue, songs, and recitations of the programs. I was impressed by her native intelligence and can only imagine the price she paid for having to give up on advanced education during her teenage years. 11 However, Tilda gave no hint of her regrets, if she had any. Her love for her parents and all other members of the Torstenson family remained central. I think hardly a day passed without her having a telephone conversation with our mother--something I know meant a great deal for both of them. Out of such circumstances, it is understandable that I should look upon my three years at Tilda's house from 1932 to 1935 with special gratitude. My admiration, respect, and affection for her continued through the rest of her life. Good fortune made it possible for the Vollan family to take over the Torstenson family home when Bud and Selma and their children moved to their new home. Thus, Tilda made it possible for my father to continue living in his family's homestead until his death in 1955 and make my visits there continued occasions for enjoying her hospitality. It is important that I make a special mention of Tilda's husband, Pete. During all the years I lived with them, I never heard a mean word from him. He was kindness personified. We became good friends and shared many activities together. He too was intensely interested in our school programs. Every Christmas he applied his considerable artistic talent painting a beautiful holiday scene with colored chalk on one of the school's strategic blackboards. Marie My second oldest sister, Marie, was 14 years of age at my birth. Since Tilda had become mother's over-all housekeeping assistant, Marie seemed destined to become my special baby-care helper. In her inimical way, Marie often alluded to her special caring responsibility for me--responding to my tears, changing my diapers, rocking me to sleep, and all the rest. Her daughter, Jean, has observed that the special relationship between me as a baby and her as a 14-year-old sister continued to influence her thinking about her baby brother as long as she lived. Unlike her sister, Tilda, who continued as a steadfast Torstenson homemaker until her marriage, Marie pursued a more adventurous life beyond the homestead. She secured her secondary education at what was called Windom College in Montevideo, Minnesota, after which she worked for the Dean of Women at the State Agricultural School in Morris. Then followed several especially venturesome years in Minneapolis, where, 12 among other things, she served as special nursemaid for children in the illustrious homes of the prominent Northrup King and Carpenter families, who lived in the then exclusive Lake of the Isles neighborhood. Her vacation visits home were special occasions in our family. She would always bring special gifts for Ludolph and me, the Torstenson Twins, gifts that were unusual in our home. Once she brought home the lively book, The Flapper's Wife, which was read aloud to both the delight and astonishment of our family gathered around the large kitchen table. Marie later worked for Sheltering Arms, a prominent child care center on the west Mississippi River Road where she came in touch with a clientele quite different from the more elitist families of the Kings and Carpenters. Throughout her life in Minneapolis, she in effect introduced our family to life in the city. Olaf and Selmer both enrolled in the Bakery program at Dunwoody Institute. Marie very likely played some role in that venture. She also introduced our mother and dad to special friends in the city who hosted them while they were attending the 1924 Norwegian-American conference in Minneapolis. Because of Marie's life and work in Minneapolis the cities were no longer a strange and far-away place for the Torstenson family. Even after her marriage to Walter Christianson, who managed a Standard Oil station in Dawson, Marie's life was destined for high mobility and adventure. After a few relatively serene years in Dawson, where Sonny (Walter, Jr.) and Jean were born, Marie's family was destined to live in many parts of the country. Partly because of the versatile competence of her husband, Walter, and partly because of the economic uncertainties of the twenties and thirties, their family moved a great deal. To list these changing habitats will suffice to indicate the complicated adventures of Marie's life: • Life in the rural community of Echo, Minnesota where Walter served both as farmer on the Christianson Farm and butter maker in the Echo, Creamery. • Life in Marshall, Minnesota where Walter managed a Conoco Oil Station. • Life in Fairfax, Minnesota where Walter served as an auto mechanic at a large Auto Service Center. 13 • During the war year of the early 40s, life in the Portland, Oregon region where Walter first worked in the Defense Industries, then in the lumber and other industries. • After Walter's death, the family retired to Portland, Oregon where Marie lived until her death at the age of ninety-three. It was always a pleasure to visit her and her family at all of these places where we always encountered a lively hospitality and a loving welcome. Our family always cherished Marie's stories about our family history. There were times we suspected she might be embellishing an essentially accurate story with some exaggerated nuances, but that only added to the vitality of the telling. Never was her loyalty to and love for her family in doubt. We cherish her memory. Esther My sister, Esther, was 10 years of age when I was born. I find it difficult to imagine her life as a ten-year-old living in a family with two older sisters and an older brother, together with five younger brothers. She was likely in fifth grade in the oneroom country school (District 7), which was a little over two miles from the family home. Those hours at school must have seemed like a refuge from a bewildering family setting. My first vivid memory of Esther was of visiting her at her light-housekeeping room in a house in Dawson where she was a high-school student. I remember her serving me a piece of white bread with butter and sugar. The sugar turned out to be salt--thus creating an especially memorable event. Esther was evidently a good student. After graduation, she enrolled in Dawson High's Normal School and became an elementary school teacher. It was as a schoolteacher that I first came to know Esther well. As it turned out, she became a teacher in our District 7 elementary school when I was a student. I remember her as an excellent teacher who skillfully taught me some of the fundamentals of grammar, spelling, and the rudiments of good writing. Beyond that, she effectively taught me the proper separation of her role as an older sister and responsible schoolroom teacher and administrator. An amusing, but for me a very embarrassing and for her a very aggravating encounter between us occurred when I failed to understand those important differences in her role relations with me. Our 14 schoolroom was heated by one of those black iron grated heaters on which the children had their potatoes baked for noontime lunch. I took the liberty of climbing on top of the stove jacket to tum the potatoes and continued to stay there reading one of my books. Esther appropriately insisted I get down to my seat and I stupidly thought I could defy my sister's demands. In the following encounter, I was demonstrably taught the difference between her role as a teacher and as an older sister. Since that incident, Esther would occasionally, with a sense of humor, remind me that I was not always that "good boy" my mother often told me that I was. Not long ago at a restaurant in Dawson I was introduced to an elderly gentleman who said he had had two great teachers in his life; one of them was Esther Torstenson. i Even while teaching, Esther married her high school sweetheart, Ervin Larson. They lived on the Larson farm homestead a few miles southeast of Dawson. They had a happy early-married life here where their son Lowell and daughter Delores were born. The Great Depression of the early thirties drastically put an end to this very promising beginning. As happened to so many farms at that time, an insurance company mortgage holder foreclosed upon it. The young Larson family became landless tenants and Ervin was forced to take work for WPA on the Lac Qui Parle Lake project. Through some much appreciated help from Esther's brother Oscar, the family was able to first rent a farm and later to buy the farm near Dawson through the Farmers Home Administration which became their family farm homestead for most of the rest of her life. Throughout her life, Esther continued to be vitally interested in education, and with Ervin's full support, in the educational activities of their son Lowell and daughter Delores. Throughout the years, Esther was always an inspiration for me. We shared many interests--in education, social concerns, and political issues. Both Fran and I always enjoyed their visits to our home in Minneapolis and our visits to their home in the Dawson community. Perhaps one of the highlights of such association came when in 1973 they visited us in Norway. Although Esther was still wrestling with the after-effects of a very troublesome surgery, she joined us in our visit to the Telemark homestead of our dad. We cherish all these memories. 15 A Closing Commentary on My Brothers and Sisters The reader must know by now, that my brothers and sisters have meant a great deal to me. Each in his or her own way has added much to my life. Whatever their first reception may have been when their 11 th sibling arrived on November 8, 1912, I can remember only their positive affirmation to my joining their sibling society. Mother and Dad It would be unthinkable to assume that the friendly and caring support my brothers and sisters have always shown me would have happened without the steady loving care shown all of them by our mother and father. Beyond their individual differences and varied life experiences, they shared a basic ethos of life that no doubt was nurtured by our parents. In a sense, all of us in the Torstenson family "stand on the shoulders" of our caring parents. While more will be said about them in my account of our "legacies from Norway," it is appropriate to comment here about their impact on my life as well as that of my brothers and sisters. Whatever the magic at work between them, there never in doubt love for each other left an indelible imprint on all of us as to the appropriate relations between husband and wife. I cannot recall ever hearing an argument between them. While both of them had been nurtured in a pietist legacy from Norway and both of them were active members in our neighborhood Lutheran congregation, their piety was never the stem and discipline-oriented rigidity often associated with pietism. Of the two, mother was perhaps the most manifestly pietist. But she was also the most demonstrative of her "tender-loving care" for each of us children. That was significantly reflected in her concern for me as a child born with a "harelip." I've seen special letters indicating her anxious concern for the outcome of the early surgery that should remove as much as possible the negative impact that this defect might have on my life. This apparently continued to concern her as long as she lived. Some twenty years after my infancy, she received a telephone call from a young lady asking about me and leaving a message for me. When reminding me of the call, she inadvertently commented on her delight that a young lady had such interest in me. 16 As I have already noted, her two youngest, Ludolph and I, had become her special helpers in many family duties. She would always comment on how good we were. Perhaps one of the most indelible memories of my mother's love for me was her frequent expression "Du er en snil gut, du Joel" (you are a kind or good boy, you Joel). Long before the talk about the importance of "self esteem," she had intuitively sensed its worth and incorporated it into the best of her pietist religious nurture about "loving one's neighbors as oneself." While the same "tender-loving care" was reflected in her relations with all of her children, it was most vividly impressed upon me in terms of her relations with Ludolph and me, her two youngest. When Ludolph was smitten with a severe attack of rheumatic fever, which left him bed-ridden for nearly two years, her tender, loving care for him knew no bounds. There can be no doubt that our whole family was deeply moved by her spirit and her caring concern for Ludolph for the rest of her life. While my father was more reserved, it would be entirely inaccurate to say he lacked our mother's caring concern for all ofus. He completely shared mother's special concerns about both Ludolph and my particular problems. He was always interested in the special developments and achievements of each of his children. He wanted all to get as much education as possible and was an active member of the local school board. He wished for all a positive role in the life and culture of American society. He wished for all of us a good home and family. His own life became in many ways a model for our lives; he read widely and was well informed, and he participated actively in community affairs, including church council, school board, telephone cooperative board, and township board. Not long ago, I learned from one of my mother's letters to me while I was pursuing my degree in rural elementary education at Moorhead State Teacher's College, that my father had contacted a member of the school board of the school district in which I came to serve, to let him know about my readiness to teach in such a school. It is very likely that this contact was the first important step leading to my first teaching job in a time when such jobs were hard to find. Since both my mother and father were conscious heirs of a Norwegian legacy, much more will be noted about their impact on my conscience and consciousness in the following discourse, "Legacies from Norway." 17 ; Part Two: Legacies from Norway While doing the profile of the members of my immediate family and acknowledging their gifts to my life, I was constantly haunted by the question: "why were they like that?" That question led inevitably to an inquiry concerning the sociocultural and historic sources of their values, their norms for appropriate behavior, and their basic goals for life. As I have already intimated, our mother and father appeared to be the most significant conveyors of the cultural values and norms of their children. But where did their values come from? That question led naturally to an examination of their historic socio-cultural roots. Since the origins of both our parents were intimately related to Norway, the sociocultural legacies of that country inevitably contributed much to their life. I;Ience, an examination of those legacies seems important. However, any attempt to generalize about any over-all culture and its impact on its people in this treatise would be altogether presumptuous. Anyone interested in pursuing such a study would find Professor Christian T. Jonassen's Value Systems and Personality in Western Civilization: Norwegians in European America (1983) an excellent source. In this presentation, I will only note such traits from this book and other sources that seem to help illuminate the particular norms, values, and worldviews of our parents. Since both our father and our mother's parents were nurtured in Norway's prevailing Lutheran Church, their children were both heirs of a common religious heritage which had established the principle of universal education and religious instruction in Luther's Catechism and Bible history. After an extensive account of the complexities of religious history, Professor Jonassen suggests that Christianity had laid the foundation for many Norwegian values, such as degrading "aggression, violence, and self aggrandizement and making modesty, self- abnegation, and concern for the 18 unfortunate and the weak, central values" (p.56). Both our parents in many ways reflected those very values and sought to nurture them in the lives of their children. It has often been noted that Norwegians have perhaps over-emphasized the qualities of selfabnegation and modesty. ' While reflecting on these legacies from Norway, I received in the mail a remarkable book, a translation of Professor Ole E. Rolvaag's classic work, Omkring Fadrearven, published in 1922. This translation, bearing the title Concerning Our Herita~, was put together by Rolvaag's granddaughter, Solveig Zempel, Professor of Norwegian at St. Olaf College. The book provides an illuminating description of some pervasive Norwegian socio-cultural attributes that seem strikingly relevant for understanding our parents' value orientations. Among the Norwegian character traits identified by Rolvaag, the following seemed to be particularly helpful in understanding our parents' cultural values: (1.) A desire for knowledge, coupled with a love of literature and an appreciation of art and music (2.) A love of nature (3.) The love of place and home (4.) A democratic ethos, coupled with a respect for law and government. The more I've reflected on my parent's life style, the more I've come to understand that they had internalized the Norwegian legacy concerning the,desire for knowledge and the love of literature. Both our parents were consummate readers. In their early life together, they often joined with their neighbors to read and discuss new books. Our father was perhaps the most avid reader, reading newspapers such as the then prominent Norwegian-American Skandinaven, weekly magazines like The Pathfinder, as well as a wide variety of books, some literary classics translated into Norwegian, some books on American history, and on the history of religion. Our mother read primarily religious literature, including the Bible and religious magazines. But she also enjoyed some of the same literature that inspired our father. In her well-kept scrapbook, I found that she had carefully collected extensive poetry labeled as reading that both of them had treasured. Much of this poetry reflected Rolvaag's observations about the love of nature common to Norwegians. Among the poems she collected were such classics as Norway's national anthem, "Ja Vi Elsker Dette Landet'' ("Yes We Love this Land") and such other gems as "Mellom Bakkar of Berg Ut Med Havet" ("Between Hills and Mountains Out by 19 the Sea"), and "Kan Du Glemme gamle Norge?" ("Can You Forget Old Norway?"). All of these reflected a pervasive appreciation of nature, which inevitably impacted our parents' thinking about environmental protection and its implications for farming policies and practices. Another pervasive motif accented in these poems was the love of place and home as so beautifully described in Rolvaag's account of our Norwegian legacy. It was perhaps not an accident that our home was built on the banks of the Lac Qui Parle River. It was obvious that our father loved the woods along the river, caring for them and carefully managing the selection of such trees that could be appropriately harvested for the wood stove and furnace. Both our parents were interested in caring for the flowers and shrubs and the trees around the homestead. Our parents' interest and participation in public affairs aptly reflected Rolvaag's comments about Norway's ethos and its pervasive respect for law and government. One of the tragedies of the new land for our mother was that she had to wait until she was nearly forty years of age before she could participate as a voter in America's political process. Women's suffrage came much earlier in Norway. Since our parents were both influenced by the impact of the Hans Nielson Hauge Pietist movement in Norway, a word about that would be in order. As historians have clearly documented, that movement had an impact on Norway's political and social development, as well as on its religious institutions. One of the reasons for the success of the movement was attributable to the fact that it "combined a political struggle of the farmers (bonder) against the official classes with the strong emotions engendered by a religious revival" (Jonassen). In other words, the movement was both "populist" and "pietist." The populist dimension was internalized in both our father and mother but most explicitly affirmed by our father. He clearly identified himself with the populist orientation of Norway's Pietist movement. He often alluded to the dominating influences of the "lensman" (sheriff) and "presten" (the preacher) in the Norwegian community. That this perception was likely shared by the rural community in Telemark in which he grew up is indicated by the fact that the first retail consumer cooperative enterprise in Norway was launched in the very local neighborhood school in which he received his elementary education. It seems reasonable to surmise that this Norwegian background 20 helps us to understand why our father became actively involved as board member of a local mutual telephone company, as well as an active member of many other local cooperative organizations in his new home in America. It may also help explain his interest in such populist political movements as the Farmer Labor Party in Minnesota politics, the Farmers Union, and in later years the New Deal orientations of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. While our mother was less expressive of such populist sentiments, there is no doubt but that she shared our father's views. There can be no question but that both our parents had subscribed to the populist as well as pietist dimensions of their religious faith. From what has already been noted about the Norwegian love of knowledge and literature, it becomes understandable that both of our parents should be very positive about general education. Our father became an active board member of our local elementary school board. Both were glad for whatever achievement we made beyond elementary education. They both read a good deal, and kept up with the news. As has already been noted, our father was an especially an avid reader, reading widely in areas of history and classical literature. In recent years I have examined some of the books in his library and found translations of such classics as Pilgrims Progress and _.T he Imitation of Christ.,_ as well as important books on American history. As a lifetime academic familiar with the anti-intellectualism nurtured in our frontier culture, I have much appreciated his affirmation of my academic pursuits, even as he affirmed the I achievements of my brothers and sisters in their ventures. While both our mother and father internalized important aspects of Norway's cultural values, our father was the most articulate communicator about them. Since he had grown to manhood in Norway and had undoubtedly been influenced by the life and culture of his Telemark community, he more clearly understood and empathized with that heritage. It is noteworthy that his original intention as an American immigrant was to stay in this country for five years until he had earned enough money to provide adequate resources for launching a career in Norway. He did, in fact, return after five years but found prospects for the future in Norway less then promising and returned with many friends from Telemark, who, like him, had decided America promised a brighter future for them than the "old country" which they still loved. 21 While our father became a very positive American citizen, highly committed to its best humane and democratic ethos, he never lost his interest in and love for Norway. He kept reading its poetry, singing its songs, and following with interest its historical development. He was a faithful reader of a distinguished Norwegian-American newspaper, Skandinavian published in Chicago, which kept him informed about developments in Norway as well as about Norwegian-Americans in this country. Every Christmas, the attractive literacy magazine, Jul I Vesterheimen, kept him in touch with the more aesthetic and literary reflections of Norwegian life and culture. He maintained a lively exchange of letters with friends "back home" and became an active member of an association of emigrants from Telemark called "Teledag." In 1938, he and another "Teledag" friend, Tor Ringstad, made plans for a final re-visit to the "homeland" but the disturbing pre-war developments in Europe persuaded them to abandon the venture. After the April 9t\ 1940 Nazi invasion of Norway, our father became actively involved in the special aid programs for Norway. All these manifestations of our father's continued affection for Norway inevitably nurtured in all of us a special interest in that country and its legacies. I think all of us learned to sing the first stanza of Norway's national anthem with its opening "Ja vi elsker dette Landet" and the following lines about that country's beautiful nature. It is likely no accident that all but Tilda from our family have made visits to Norway and to our father's Telemark community. I suspect that these legacies from our Norwegian roots contributed something to my interest in launching a "semester in the city" program in Scandinavia for a consortium of upper-midwest colleges and universities in the early seventies. After a summer excursion in Scandinavia with Ludolph, Alpha, Fran, and myself in 1971, I found a positive co-sponsor for such a venture at the University of Oslo. This venture, launched in 1973, succeeded beyond all expectations and has continued each year ever since. While these reflections about our parents' historic linkages with their European past are far from complete, I trust they indicate some of the most salient dimensions of our socio-cultural legacies from Norway. How these legacies have been transferred to following generations in the United States becomes an interesting topic for speculation. When a thoughtful relative, Johannes Steinsrud, a schoolman from Telemark, visited us 22 several years ago, he noticed with obvious pleasure that many of the second and third generations of Torstensons were engaged in the teaching professions and related service oriented fields. Perhaps this observation might not be unrelated to such a legacy transfer from Norway to America. ' 23 Part Three: Beyond the Family Farm Although much of my early nurturing occurred within the context of our immediate family and its farm home, it would be a great mistake to ignore the importance of its supportive surrounding Scandinavian-American community. Our farm was surrounded by an entire neighborhood of family farms owned and operated by first generation Norwegian-Americans who shared many of the values of our common European heritage, together with the hopes and dreams for a future life in the new homeland. Our nearest neighbors were also relatives, which added much to the intimacies of our neighborhood ties. I cherish fond memories of the many family "get togethers" with these neighbors including all kinds of games, great dinners, and shared intergenerational conversations. It was out of this network of related family neighbors that much of the extensive Torstenson, Christianson, Skoien, Borns, and Holtan kinship system emerged, a kinship that eventually spread itself over much of Minnesota and other parts of the United States. As it spread itself geographically, its members expanded vocationally becoming involved in education, commerce, and politics, as well as farming. One of its members, Theodore Christianson, even became a governor of the state of Minnesota. Perhaps the most memorable legacy of our intimate family-farm neighborhood was the development of a traditional "threshing bee" led by Clarence Borns who had become its much loved and respected thresher. As the neighborhood gathered to map out the year's threshing schedule, the best values of rational neighborhood economic planning were combined with a festive social celebration. Beyond these inter-family relations, we also shared in the development of the larger neighborhood institutions such as the elementary public school, together with its supportive life and culture, and the neighborhood Lutheran congregation and its social and religious activities. As our family grew, we become increasingly involved in life and 24 services of our neighboring towns and villages as well, such as the historic village of Lac Qui Parle and such surrounding towns as Dawson, Milan, and the county seat of Madison. All of these relations with both our neighborhood and the life and work of the surrounding villages and towns involved our family in personal and social as well as economic and political linkages with the larger society surrounding our family farm. All these contributed to our preparation for sharing in the emerging common life and culture of a growing American society. Perhaps the popularized concept of the "family farm dream" with its emphasis on rugged individualism and economics provides an inadequate account of what life was really like in these early farming settlements, one that has neglected the important socio-cultural values associatd with rich neighborhood and surrounding community experiences and associations. t 25 Part Four: The Questfor Authenticity in the World Order Introduction Import~nt as my cultural roots were in nurturing many of my value-orientations and personality traits, there came a time in my life for relating them to my role as a growing person in the context of a larger complex and dynamic American society. In a sense, this meant a shift from an immersion in my childhood cultural roots to a lively encounter with the larger society around me and the development of a self-conscious authenticity within it. The L.N.S. Academy and "Growing Up" The first step in this transition was Ludolph and my enrollment in a program of secondary education in the Lutheran Normal School Academy in Madison, Minnesota. As has already been noted, our parents were agreed about the importance of education and wanted their children to continue their studies beyond the elementary education they received in District #7. This meant arranging for such studies in neighboring towns eleven to fourteen miles away from our family homestead, this before there was a highly developed automobile culture and/or school busing. For our older siblings, arrangements had been made for them to rent rooms with families in town where food and other daily needs were provided. However, this option became difficult by the time Ludolph and I were ready for this new educational venture, since our mother's health had become precarious. This difficulty was resolved by enrolling us in the Lutheran Normal School Academy in Madison some thirteen miles from home. Here we would live in a well- 26 managed dormitory and work for our board in the Academy's food services in another part of the campus. While the students at this Academy came from a wider geographical area than was typical of the public high schools in the region and were supported by private funds, it would be a great mistake to classify it as an elitist institution. Tuition and other costs were a little less than $300.00 per student. It was obviously this low cost that made it possible for our parents to enroll us in this private academy. However, even if this academy was not socially elitist, its curriculum was clearly designed to meet the entrance requirements of most colleges and universities. Both Minnesota's Department of Education and the University of Minnesota officially accredited the academy. Thus, its students were all exposed to both world and American history, four years of English and world literature, mathematics, the physical and social sciences, as well as typically two foreign languages--one of which was often Latin. In addition to such typical academic encounters, our academy provided a four-year program in religious studies including Biblical study, Church history, a study of the life of Christ, the writings of the Apostle Paul, and Church doctrine. These studies were understandably consonant with the religious orientations of the Lutheran Cµurch supporting the Academy. ' All of these courses, as they were intended to, expanded my consciousness beyond the limits of my prior experiences in the local neighborhood life and culture. I am grateful for the generally excellent faculty who stimulated me to a fairly rigorous response to this varied curriculum such that I graduated with one of the two highest honors in my class. Perhaps additional thanks should be extended to our boys' dormitory dean for his systematic monitoring of the study hours every day of the week. I am also grateful for the many ways this academy was more than an academic institution. As a residential organization where students as well as several members of the faculty spent the whole day together, it became a veritable social community where people came to know each other well. Its extensive extra-curricular programs provided a wide variety of opportunities for participation in such musical activities as the school choir, girl's glee club, school band, and men's quartettes that presented special programs in the surrounding churches and communities. 27 Similarly, an extensive athletic program provided opportunities for participation in such activities as football, basketball, baseball, and tennis. These athletic teams of course played other high school and academy teams in the region adding to their appeal. In addition musical and athletic activities, there were special programs in dramatics, debate, and public speaking. Since the school was relatively small, several of us were able to participate in most of these activities. Since our school was linked with other similar academies throughout the upper Midwest, we became involved in inter-academy competitive events involving both athletic as well as more typical academic activities such as debate, public speaking, drama, and musical performances. Colleges such as Luther College in Decorah, Iowa and St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota typically hosted these events. As venturesome young adults, we found participation in such events exhilarating. Participating in these multi-varied extra-curricular activities not only expanded one's interests in such things as music, drama, and public discourse, they also provided opportunities for new roles-as an athlete in baseball and basketball teams and as an actor in the senior play. The same could be said for my singing in the academy's choir and male quartette. Perhaps most cherished of all was the expansion of one's circle of friends. My First Venture as a Pedagogue While graduation from the L.N.S. Academy represented an important step in my "growing up," it was in a sense but a prelude to the next important move toward a relatively authentic status as a grown-up person--namely, making a choice relative to my future career. More than prior decisions in my life, this had to be essentially my own. However, like prior choices, this too had to be made in the context of the socio-economic circumstances of the time, as well as the cultural orientation that shaped what I perceived to be my alternatives. As anyone knowledgeable about the history of the late twenties and the early thirties knows, these were not the best of times. The famous stock market crash of 1929 and the following years of economic depression severely limited what I perceived to be my optional first steps in choosing a future career. While some of my classmates were able to delay making specific career choices by entering four-year 28 college programs, this was not an option for me because of our family's economic situation. It was also clear that even if I had by now come to have a high regard for the life and work of farming and its culture, my future career would have to be sought elsewhere. Whether or not my academic exposure at the Academy, which had begun as a teacher-training school, and the fact that my older sister, Esther, had chosen a one-year teacher-training program at the Dawson High School, influenced my thinking at the time I do not know. But I began to seek out one-year teacher training programs at colleges in the area. I decided to enroll at Moorhead State Teachers College in a special one-year teacher-training program preparing for a "Rural Elementary" teaching certificate. My L.N.S. classmate and friend, Lloyd Hanson, had made a similar choice, and together we rented a room in a small apartment near the college. The proprietor of the apartment also provided us a space in the basement for light housekeeping. Thanks to a trunk full of canned goods my mother had sent with us, and similar supplies from Lloyd's home, our food costs were very low. A modest compensation both of us received each week for distributing sales fliers for our apartment's small grocery store every Friday afternoon helped pay for some of our groceries. A smal,1 loan from my brother Selmer provided the money I needed for the college tuition and related costs, which also were very modest since the college was a publicly supported state institution. The two reasons for describing what might well be perceived as trivial economic details of my first year's college expenses is first, to clearly dramatize the impact of the economic crisis of the time and secondly, to acknowledge, with gratitude, the helpful support of my family, as well as the important public support given to the college which made this first year of college education possible for me. The very nature of this oneyear training program necessarily limited both the breadth and depth of its academic encounter. But I remember with special gratitude those excellent professors who added zest to the coursework. In terms of my preparation for teaching, perhaps the most significant part of the one-year program was the excellent teaching internship conducted in a two-room elementary school in an open-country neighborhood about ten miles north of the Moorhead-Fargo area. This whole experience provided a reality-testing situation for all 29 students involved. Two of us roomed in a family farm home about a mile and a halfwalking distance from the school. Since all of our meals were provided at the school cafeteria, we spent most of our time at the school. We observed excellent supervisory teachers in virtually every grade of the school and gradually became participatory teaching interns in some grades. We learned about curriculum issues, alternative methods of teaching, techniques for evaluating student performances, and over-all principles of schoolroom administration. Although the very nature of this one-year teacher-training program limited our involvement in the extra-curricular programs of the college, we managed, as young people usually do, to find both time and situations for some relaxation and play. Having satisfactorily completed the one-year academic program required for a teaching position in a rural school, the next challenge for me was to find a school district that would hire me. To my knowledge, there was no highly developed teacher placement program at the college related to its one-year rural teaching training program. Thus, like most of my college classmates, I thought mainly of my local home community as the area representing my best prospects. As was true of the whole state, the general economy had a strong impact on the market for such teaching positions. In the first place, the wage structure was greatly depressed. Because of the great farm depression, school boards were compelled to reduce their salary offerings. Many schools were paying less than $50.00 a month for their teachers. This low wage pattern was further supported by the fact that there was a good supply of teachers desperately needing those jobs. It was my great good fortune to have a tender, loving, and persistent employment service made up of my Mother and Dad. They were fully aware of the precarious employment situation. In reviewing the ma~y letters I had received during my year at the college, I discovered that my folks had all along shown an intense interest in both my academic program, as well as in my job prospects as a schoolteacher. They followed closely the teaching openings in their area and made several contacts with various school boards on my behalf. Since my father had served on our local District Seven school board, he was quite familiar with school board issues. It was of particular significance that one of his 30 colleagues on that board, Oscar Quenemoen, had become a member of another school district board where there was an opening. My Dad met with him to tell him of my potential interest in that teaching opportunity. His response was positive and stated that he needed an application and related information about my interest in and readiness for teaching in District #13. I was of course immediately informed and made the application. Through follow-up meetings with Mr. Quenemoen, Dad learned that the whole board had met and considered my application and agreed to employ me for the salary of $65.00 a month. I understood that Mr. Quenemoen had wished that they could pay me more, but the fact that several other applicants had offered to take the job for much less made that virtually impossible. Both my Mother and Dad thought I should respond positively to the offer. My Dad said that under the prevailing conditions the salary was not bad, and my Mother observed, "a bird in the hand was better than a bird in the tree." I agreed with both of them, and in the fall of 1935, I began my first stint as a pedagogue. Some Reflections on My First Teaching Experience Any attempt to describe accurately my three years as teacher at the District 13 one-room school in Lac Qui Parle County now fifty years later is fraught with many hazards. There are of course the inevitable hazards of memory lapses, as well as the likelihood of re-interpreting the past out of one's present consciousness. As an historically oriented sociologist, I shall, however, try to reconstruct that past experience as accurately as my limited memory and historical data provide. Beyond that, I will speculate on how that experience influenced my developing consciousness and philosophy of life. The 22 students enrolled in District 13 came from thirteen families that were all of first or second-generation Norwegian American heritage. All the families were at least nominally associated with the local Lac Qui Parle Lutheran Church. All the families were also engaged in farming, most as owner-operators and some as renters. In a sense, all could be said to be participants in values and hopes associated with the historic family-farm dream. Thus, it can be said that District 13 was rooted in a relatively homogeneous socio-economic culture. In many ways, the schoolhouse served as a 31 neighborhood center. It was a fairly new and attractive structure with a full basement, indoor toilets, and a small library. Thus, it was well suited to serve as a neighborhood social center. Even though I had a fairly clear understanding of the homogenous character of the District #13 community and received some comfort from it, and even if I felt that my college teacher training had been quite successful, I feared that my first day as teacher at this one-room country school might be a daunting experience. How could I really have mastery of an orderly educational agenda for eight grades of more than twenty children ranging from ages five to thirteen? I remember spending much time thinking and worrying about this as I planned for that first day. Beyond the issues of academic management was also the concern for classroom order and for nurturing positive and friendly relationships between the teacher and the students, as well as good interpersonal relations among the children. I had been given to understand that one of the reasons I had been favorably considered for this teaching position was that during the past two years there had been considerable discipline problems thought to have been related to the fact that the upper classes had a preponderance of big boys who caused problems for my predecessor. It was thought that as a man, I could master the situation and effectively assert my authority over the troublemakers. But I had no predilection to play such an authoritarian role. Having learned at college about the potential merit of Citizens Councils as a strategy not only for creating good relations between students and teacher, but also for providing a live experience for the students in democratic processes, I found that approach more congenial to my spirit. So on the opening day, I wrote in bold, gold-colored chalk over the top of the blackboard the following simple guiding principle for our student--teacher relations: "I'll help you and you'll help me, then what a wonderful school this will be." Using this as our guiding principle, I presented the case for the Citizen Council idea and proceeded to organize such a structure for democratically determining the elementary norms for behavior in the schoolroom for both the teacher and the students. I perceived this approach to be not primarily a strategy for control. It truly reflected my personal predilection toward the democratic ethos that I had been nurtured 32 in from my childhood. I think it can be said to have worked beyond my fondest expectations. I encountered no fundamental discipline problems during my three years of teaching. The big boys became in a sense, my friends and helpers. Because of some agreed upon rules governing how students might help each other in their schoolwork, the schoolroom was perhaps noisier than it should be at times--that at least was the judgement of the County School Superintendent on his first visit. Having heard the Superintendent's comments to me, the next time he visited our school, the children without any prompting on my part behaved so quietly that the Superintendent commended me on how well I had solved the noise problem. Naturally, I was gratified by the children's concern for their teacher. What was more important, that gesture reflected a spirit of positive relationship that was developing among us. This, I think, contributed much to whatever success we experienced as a learning community. The children's positive responses to the classroom learning challenges as well as to such special activities as the Christmas programs, public speaking contests, and county-wide musical events gave me great satisfaction. It more than compensated for my sense of inadequacy in effectively managing the highly complex challenges inevitable in a one-room elementary school of eight gq1des. The fact that after more than fifty years, I still remember with positive feelings the names of all the children in that school, indicates why I remember with gratitude all the ways in which those youngsters made those three years so memorable to me. As every educator knows , the teacher's effectiveness is usually enhanced by positive and friendly relations with the school's surrounding community. Even with less consciousness of its significance than I might have had, I found this to be true at District # 13. The responsiveness of the community to my initiatives in organizing a debating society as well as a community drama club putting on three-act plays in the district and surrounding communities was both personally gratifying to me and rewarding in terms of promoting positive school-community relations. Both activities brought older members of the children's families into positive school-community relations and provided outlets for their intellectual and artistic interests--even as they gave me an outlet for some of my long-time interests. 33 The debating society provided special opportunities for people of the neighborhood, together with invited special participants from the larger community, to debate the vital socio-political issues that were raging during this time in our history. Every event staged, whether drama or debate, packed the schoolhouse with a highly responsive audience. Some refreshments and lively conversation followed each event. The many, informal Friday night dinner parties to which I was often invited provided for more intimate relations between the community and myself. This cherished relationship was largely due to the fact that I lived with my oldest sister Tilda and her family. Their daughter Irene began her elementary education the year I began teaching. These dinner parties brought whole families together into close relationships. Children would gather together for their play activities. Older people played "Rook" or other games. The oldest would often gather to share reflections on past neighborhood history and other social issues or to share stories. There was neighborhood cohesion there, the likes of which I have never since experienced. The Impact of the Great Depression I have already made some casual references to the Great Depression, but none of them has adequately described the great impact it had upon me personally as well as upon the school and its community. Since our community was made up almost entirely of farmers and their families, the Great Depression was primarily experienced as a great farmers' crisis. The market for farmers' products virtually collapsed in 1932. Wheat sold for as low as 20 cents a bushel, oats for 9 cents and com for 12 cents. Hogs went to market for pennies a pound. The markets for dairy products were similarly depressed. A highly productive year with a bountiful harvest only added to the market catastrophe. This economic reality cast great doubt about the adequacy of letting the "law of supply and demand" determine the economic fortunes of the country. In their frustration, the people began to paraphrase that old adage to "the law of supply and be damned." Further complicating the problem was the legacy of the bank crisis. Many of the banks of the neighboring towns were forced into bankruptcy, making them inoperative as sources for loans during these difficult times. Some farmers, who during the prosperous twenties had greatly expanded their operations and borrowed extensively to finance such 34 ventures, found themselves unable to meet the related mortgage payments. This led to widespread mortgage foreclosure sales of farm homes and other properties to such credit agencies as the major insurance companies that had bought their mortgages. For the farmers who managed to hold on to their homes and market their grain, livestock, poultry, and dairy products found their income inadequate for paying the costs of producing them--to say nothing about meeting the annual costs of the family budget, taxes, etc. To add to the tragedy of the farm crisis was the complete crop failure of 1933-34 due to the great drought that swept over this part of western Minnesota. We had dust storms that rivaled the worst winter blizzards in their intensity, forcing farm families to light lamps in their homes all day. Schools were occasionally forced to close down until the storms subsided. Since most of the farmers were diversified, not only did the drought wipe out their income from marketing their crops and produce, it also threatened the supply of feeds and forage needed to keep their livestock fed. To expect that the farmers would accept these drastic threats to their very economic survival with serenity and complacency would be unthinkable. They keenly understood that the entire "family farm dream" that had nurtured them in the past was being challenged. Their response to this challenge led to a revitalization of the Farmers Union and other farm organizational programs. The most dramatic new organizational activity was a rapid growth of the National Farm Holiday Association. When the nation's President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, declared a National Bank Holiday to deal with the banking crisis, leaders of the Farm Holiday Association thought it similarly appropriate to launch a National Farm Holiday to deal with the farm crisis. The Farm Holiday Association proceeded to stop farm mortgage foreclosure sales as well as other farm bankruptcy sales. Many of District #13 farmers became active in this new organization. One of the farmers in the district became the Lac Qui Parle County Chairman of the organization and played a crucial leadership role in bringing large crowds of farm men and women to the county courthouse every time a farm foreclosure sale was scheduled. The very size of these crowds persuaded the county Sheriff to postpone the sale. Fortuitously the County Sheriff was a relative of the Farm Holiday Chairman and, after many such confrontations, they agreed to have the Sheriff 35 telephone his relative to inform him of every forthcoming foreclosure sale to ask him if another crowd would come to stop it. If so, the Sheriff would postpone the sale. Knowing many of the participants in these populist protest activities, I witnessed close hand and with sympathetic understanding these dramatic social forces at work in our community. When the Farm Holiday Leaders decided to march on the Minnesota State Capitol for a conference with the state's popular new Governor, Floyd B. Olson, and to press upon a reluctant state legislature the urgency of some critical new farm legislation, thousands of farmers in our area boarded the train that would take them to the Twin Cities to join that farmers' march on the Capitol. Several local farmers joined in the venture, including my brother-in-law, Peter Vollan. An insurance company thought this would be a strategic time to conduct a farm foreclosure sale, assuming the usual men farmers who would stop such a sale were away on the Farmer's march. To their surprise, they found Madison packed with farmwomen who were milling around the courthouse well-prepared to stop the sale. While these dramatic events inevitably enlivened my social consciousness, the devastating impact of this depression upon people and families that I had come to know intimately shook to the core of my very being. One of my school board members, for example, endured unthinkable indignities and anguish. I had come to know him as a highly sensitive, industrious, and respected farmer and a caring family man. In desperation and against all his sense of self-pride, he was compelled to apply for W.P.A. funding at the county courthouse. He was assigned to work at our schoolhouse, as a janitor who would tend the school furnace, sweep its floors, and do such other tasks as might be needed. As the teacher, I was expected to sign the paper that would indicate that he had done such work responsibly. Of course, I agreed to sign the papers, but told him that it made no sense for him to walk some three miles each day to do the routine janitorial tasks that I had already been doing myself. Furthermore, we agreed that his responsibilities at home doing the usual farm work and supporting a large family were far more important. Any sensitive person would readily understand the sheer indignity of the situation. 36 These experiences with the Great Depression inevitably left a never-to-beforgotten mark on my social consciousness. My early nurture in the populist legacies from my parents and their Norwegian heritage took on a new significance. The popular cliches about the virtues of "rugged individualism" and "self-reliance" lost much of their glamour. The imperatives of cooperation and collective socio-political action became more understandable, and the social implications of the Judeo-Christian legacies began to haunt me as never before. Although most of my time and energies were absorbed in my work as teacher, I could not isolate myself from the socio-political drama spawned by the Depression. Knowing personally many of the local participants in the growing populist farm organizations and having a fairly clear understanding of their socio-economic plight, I attended some of their meetings and witnessed some of their demonstrations. In the process, I developed a sympathetic understanding of the socio-political ethos of the emerging Farm-Labor Party, the Farmers Union, and the Farm Holiday Association. The impact of these experiences upon my changing political philosophy can perhaps be most vividly described by the following two episodes in my life. When in 1931 my college English professor assigned for our class the writing of a "political essay," I chose for my topic "Why Boost for Hoover." A year later, after rp.y experiences with the farm community in District #13, I had become an ardent supporter of Franklin Delano Roosevelt for President. I had also found the popular Floyd B. Olson of the Farmer-Labor Party had become my favored candidate for governor of Minnesota. An analysis of the local elections returns indicated that my changing political orientation could be interpreted as a symbolic representation of much of the changing political orientation of our District #13 community. Augsburg College and Consciousness Expansion Although I had found my role as teacher in District 13 both challenging and socially stimulating, I never abandoned my intention to complete a four-year college degree. After three years of teaching, I determined to go back to college to pursue what I had somewhat vaguely perceived as an important liberal arts education. The three years of teaching during a pervasive depression had understandably not removed all the economic difficulties in this pursuit. But some fortuitous circumstances lessened the 37 difficulties. One of my L.N.S. classmates had begun his academic studies at Augsburg College in Minneapolis. He encouraged my doing the same and informed me that his uncle, Abner Batalden, had become the Director of Student employment at the college, and that he would help me find the necessary part-time employment if I should decide to come to Augsburg. I was told that some work experience in a grocery store might help his finding such part time employment in Minneapolis. So, during part of the summer of 1935, I did some volunteer work at a Madison grocery store to get such experience; later that summer I was informed of a part time job in Minneapolis. Thus, in the fall of 1935, I enrolled at Augsburg College and began my part time work at a C. Thomas Grocery chain store near what was somewhat flippantly called the "Hub of Hell" a few blocks south of Lake Street. For a full day's work from about 8:00 a.m. to nearly midnight, I was paid four dollars minus four cents for apron laundry. What is noteworthy about this pittance of pay was that it in many ways reflected the realities of a continued depressed economy in urban America. It is also noteworthy that the tuition at the college was also very low. This plus income from other work opportunities made it possible for me to complete my BA degree by the spring of 1938. In spite of the economic difficulties, however, the academic challenges at the college were both gratifying and invigorating. I think that in some sense I was ready for the challenges. I was eager to expand my knowledge of world history. I had become acutely interested in economics and political science, thinking that the study of these disciplines would help me grapple more critically with the socio-political problems I had already encountered. I was also interested in probing more deeply into the JudeoChristian legacies. I was ready for a "beyond the Sunday School" study of religion. I was also quite conscious of my limitations in the fields of literature and the fine arts. Augsburg ' s faculty seemed well prepared to satisfy my interests. I owe many thanks to that dedicated group of scholars. I remember with special gratitude the grand history professor, H. N. Hendrickson, who made the history of European Civilization seem like a great drama. Through his discourse on English history, I came to a deeper appreciation of the importance of its developments in parliamentary government and law. It did not take long for me to declare history as my college major. Miss Gerda Mortensen, the gracious "queen of the college," stimulated my interests in American history. 38 I am also indebted to Mr. P.A. Sveggen, professor of English, who so uniquely dramatized some of the major literary classics. I think every student in his classes remembers his dramatic references to the great trilogy of human values - "Truth, Beauty and Goodness." One of my lasting regrets was that my other academic pursuits prevented me from majoring in English. It was natural that my encounter with the Great Depression should prompt me to have a special interest in the social sciences such as economics, political science, and sociology. These courses made up another concentration of my studies. My interests in religious inquiry were greatly rewarded by one of Augsburg's preeminent leaders, Dr. Bernhard Christensen. His courses in Christianity were inspiring. He also introduced me to the study of philosophy and exposed me to Plato and the great Socratic Dialogues. One of his colleagues, Dr. Christopher Hagen, awakened my interest in psychology. Another professor in Christianity, Dr. Sverre Norborg, from Norway, added both depth and drama through his course in "Varieties of Christian Experience." All these courses in history, the social sciences, literature, philosophy, and religion both expanded and, in many ways, transformed my consciousness beyond my fondest expectations. Supplementing these primarily academic encounters, were a variety of extracurricular activities such as debate and forensics, journalism, student government, etc. By the time of my graduation, I had been elected student director of forensics; I was editor of the college newspaper; and an active member of the International Relations Club and the student Farmer-Labor Party. My fellow classmates chose me as their senior class president, adding considerably to the complexity of my life in the senior year. Perhaps the most significant happening for me during my senior year was related to the tragic sudden death of the college's President, Dr. George Sverdrup. Professor Hendrickson was asked to step in as Acting College President. To my great astonishment, he asked me to take over his class in European History. He was apparently pleased with my performance, since to my great delight, he asked me to continue teaching the course the following year while I pursued my post-graduate work in history at the University of Minnesota. 39 This most unanticipated tum of events dramatically resolved many of the uncertainties about my future. I had thought of several alternatives such as high school teaching, law, journalism and editing a small town paper, or entering a seminary to prepare me for the ministry. I could now graduate from college with the comfortable certainty that the following year I could continue one of my major academic pursuits in graduate school while at the same time become part of a college faculty. Although most of this account of my three years at Augsburg has been focused upon my academic pursuits, I would be remiss if I failed to acknowledge some of the important, even if unplanned, social experiences. One of the most significant of these was the friendship of my classmate and my three-year roommate, Adrian Tinderholt. I had barely settled down in my dormitory room when I learned that my home community neighbor who had completed a year of study at a western Minnesota Junior College had also decided to complete his college studies at Augsburg. I was delighted that he would become my roommate. Besides being a good student also majoring in history, he too did part-time work in the city to help pay his way. We soon took up residence at a nearby home where we could also prepare our own meals. The owner of this home was a delightful from Sweden and joined the local Episcopal Church because she found its form of worship more like what she had experienced in the Swedish Lutheran Church. Since all but one of her children had grown up and established their homes elsewhere, I think in many ways she treated us as her boys and almost like part of her family. We would walk through living room, dining room, and kitchen as we went to her basement where she had arranged a place where we could prepare and eat our three meals a day. Our fairly spacious upstairs bedroom and study became like home for us where our friends could come for visits. Since we were only about two blocks from the college campus, these occasions were readily arranged. We were also within one block from the Fairview Hospital and its School of Nursing, which came to have special importance for the lives of both Adrian and myself. I will leave it to the imagination of the reader to fill in the story of how both of us found our future life-mates at that place. More will be written about my courtship, marriage, and family developments in a later part of my life's story. 40 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - -- - - -- - -·---------·- Part Five: Testing Alternative Futures Introduction Normally college graduates spend the following few years entering into alternative future vocations or pursuing post-graduate studies prior to entering vocations requiring more academic preparation. But as is well known, the decade following 193 8 was far from normal. All 1938 college graduates were destined to encounter the complex forces of change associated with the outbreak of World War II. For some, this meant becoming actively involved in the military services. For others, work in special draftdeferred occupations or carrying on the necessary public functions of health care, education, and governance. For all of them, the socio-political, economic, and moral forces of change associated with the war dramatically altered their conventional alternative futures. From 1938 to 1940--Graduate Study and College Teaching As previously stated, I was asked to take over Professor Hendrickson's class in European History when he was made acting president of the college. In a sense, it was both an awesome challenge and a great opportunity for me. Apparently, Professor Hendrickson was pleased with my work, since he asked me to continue teaching the course the following year while beginning my post-graduate studies toward a Masters Degree in History. Thus, I had the good fortune of pursuing graduate work and at the same time exploring college teaching as a future career. I found both ventures challenging as well as enjoyable, and the college saw fit to keep me on as instructor in history until I completed my Masters degree. I found my graduate studies in history very interesting and challenging. The study of historical methodology and the critical analysis and use of documentary sources was dramatized by 41 th a good professor. Another professor made 19 century Europe an intriguing field of study. I am especially grateful to Dr. George M. Stephenson who was at the time a professor of American History at the University of Minnesota. Besides being an inspiring teacher and a kind and gentle person, he gave me much help and encouragement in the preparation of my master's thesis, on The Attitude of the Lutheran Church Toward Slavery. From his suggestion, I discovered important primary sources such as periodical publications of the various immigrant groups identified with 19 th century American Lutheranism. This experience demonstrates the importance of my language studies in Norwegian, Swedish, and German. It has been gratifying to know that the final thesis has been found somewhat useful for later scholars. I chose sociology for my minor field of study in my Masters Degree program. This opened up an opportunity for my teaching some introductory courses in that discipline at Augsburg. By the end of 1940, I had completed my work for the Masters Degree in history with a minor in sociology and was ready to respond to Augsburg's overture that I continue to teach an increasing academic load in both sociology and history while beginning graduate study for a Ph.D. in sociology together w,ith a minor in History. These two years from 1938-1940 are especially memorable to me for a more important reason and one not particularly related to the academic work. During that time Fran and I decided to marry and establish a home in the area. More will be said about the beginning of our new family later. But a few comments will indicate how much that new beginning added to the joys of these two years. Frances had completed her studies for an R.N. degree in Nursing at Fairview and had become a special surgical nurse at that hospital. We found an attractive upper duplex less than a block from Augsburg's main building and only about four blocks from the hospital. It is almost unbelievable that we only paid $27 .00 a month rent for that attractive upper duplex. Needless to say, this new home, near our work in the heart of a predominately pedestrian oriented neighborhood, provided a delightful place for our early beginnings. 42 I The War's Impact on Academia The serenity and joys of these two years of gratifying academic, career, and I personal pursuits could not shield us for long from the troubling news of an impending outbreak of another World War in Europe. We listened virtually every night to Shirer's dramatic accounts of the developing crisis in Europe. Ominous signs of a world conflagration increased day by day. With Hitler's forces moving into Poland in 1939, the war had begun. The impact of these developments on the entire academic community was awesome. In a sense the college population of 1939 had been heirs of a Wilsonian dream about a "war to end all wars" and the hope of an enduring world peace under the direction of a League of Nations. Many ofus at Augsburg were active members of an International Relations Club. I remember well my own participation in that organization while a student at the college--including representing Augsburg's Club at an inter-college event staging a model "League of Nations" meeting. My role was to represent Hungary. Even before my coming to Augsburg, I had developed a strong interest in the "peace movement." As a youngster, I had been nurtured in the virtues of non-violence. During my confirmation instruction at our Lac Qui Parle Lutheran Church,, I had some difficulties with the Pastor's handling of the Fifth Commandment. I was not satisfied with what was presumably the Lutheran position that exempted war from that commandment's "Thou Shall Not Kill" edict. As a schoolteacher in District 13, I had organized a debating society, which grappled with contemporary social issues. One of the topics debated was compulsory military conscription. While the affirmative position was well defended by an able editor and his colleague, the opposition made a strong appeal to those whose ancestors had left Europe to avoid being drafted, and had incorporated their anti-war sentiments into overall populist sympathies. As one of the debaters taking the anti-conscription side I had found an intriguing book in our local church library, entitled War What For. It highly dramatized the evils of the munitions industry that was at the time being exposed by Senator Nye's Munitions Industry Investigating Committee. I had read reports from that committee in the Congressional Record, but this book made more graphic its charge that the munitions industry was callously promoting war among nations. 43 As a student of religion and philosophy at Augsburg, I was exposed to the more profoundly philosophical and moral dimensions of the issues of war and peace as well. I read Albert Schweitzer's inspiring book The Philosophy of Civilization, with its two final chapters on the "Ethics of Reverence for Life." I became aware of the life and work of St. Francis of Assisi and many other historic leaders of Christendom. Through more careful study of the Bible, I came to understand more clearly the central role of Jesus in Christendom's social ethos. When my teaching assignments increased, I soon learned that many of the college students, as well as other faculty, were wrestling with the same Christ and culture tensions relative to militarism and war. In the early forties Dr. Bernhard Christensen, who had then become president of the college, asked me to teach a course on the Social Teachings of the Bible. By then America had become fully engaged in the world struggle and the study of the relation between Christian ethics and war was no longer merely an objective philosophical and academic exercise. For student and teacher alike, the study had become a profoundly personal encounter. In a sense, this ethical dilemma provided a creative and dynamic context for our study of the Biblical account of our Judeo-Christian heritage. But it also i~volved the usual hazards for intellectual integrity and objective study. The classroom at times erupted in passionate and sometimes angry debate. As I remember the experience, I think that in the main the class became a vibrant community of co-learners sharing a common moral and intellectual concern about some of the most central issues of life itself. In a sense, this class was likely representative of what was happening throughout the college community, including both faculty and students. No one could escape the war's claims on their lives. The Peace Movement As noted earlier, the peace movement in America had developed considerably during the decades of the 1920s and 30s. This was certainly true for Minneapolis, as well as of Minnesota generally. This has been well documented in a recent book by William P. Everts, Jr. , Stockwell of Minneapolis, published by North Star Press in St. Cloud, in 1996. The outbreak of the war of course presented this peace movement with serious 44 I challenges, which demanded new responses. This was also true in Europe, where the peace movement had given birth to a new organization entitled "The Fellowship of Reconciliation." Its international leader was Muriel Lester of Geneva. She was invited to Minneapolis where she addressed a large gathering at one of the downtown churches. Her story of the growth and development of their organization in Europe and her quiet, dignified, and eloquent presentation of its central mission made a profound impression on the gathering. To make a long story short, the event was the beginning of a Fellowship of Reconciliation organization here in the Twin Cities, which became the new central force of the Peace Movement in this area. Fran and I attended the Muriel Lester meeting and were deeply moved by her presentation. We soon joined the local F.O.R. chapter. What attracted us to the movement was its ecumenical orientation. Also it brought the peace movement out of its aggressive anti-war posture to a pro-peace orientation based on social justice, love, and reconciliation. Through our participation in the F.O.R. we came to know many new people in our Twin City community and were able to bring some of them into informal meetings with students and some faculty at Augsburg College. One of our new friends was Trevor Sandness, a graduate student in English at the University of Minnesota and a member of Grace Lutheran Church in Southeast Minneapolis. He was deeply concerned about what he perceived to be the Lutheran reluctance to become involved in the Fellowship of Reconciliation movement. Through his able and persistent leadership, he succeeded in organizing and developing a Lutheran Peace Fellowship as a part of the F.O.R. movement. Fran and I hosted several of his meetings at our home and became early members of the new organization. Several students and faculty of our Lutheran Colleges also became members. This organization continues to the present time as a nation-wide Lutheran Peace organization. These developments were understandably challenged from many perspectives. For some, the conventional religious orientation meant that Christians must be obedient to the State as representative of the "earthly kingdom", even while they remained "spiritually faithful to the heavenly kingdom." For others the incredible atrocities associated with Hitler's Nazi movement made the position of pacifism intolerable. For 45 many, these and other positions led to intense re-examination of historic relations between religion and society. An extensive literature developed in response to those challenges--articles in religious journals, secular periodicals, and special publications from the Peace Movement. Many new books dealing with the subject also appeared. Those of us wrestling with these issues were immersed in this new literature. That the leaders of the Fellowship of Reconciliation were also reading these publications and grappling with the complex theological and ethical issues was clearly shown in its official journal, FellowshiQ. In its June 1941 issue, there appeared an article by Dr. McGregor, a Professor of Divinity and Biblical Criticism from the Faculty of Theology in the University of Glasgow, with the title "The Relevance of an Impossible Ideal." The article was an answer to views of the prominent American theologian, Reinhold Niebuhr, who had published a widely read document entitled "Why the Christian Church is Not Pacifist." In dealing with all of Niebuhr's complex analysis of the moral dilemmas of what he perceived to be the non-resistance posture of pacifism, McGregor's article referred to much of the exploding literature on the subject. Since Dr. McGregor was also vice-chairman of Fellowship of Reconciliation in Great Britain, it was clearly evident that the F.O.R. movement was far from being a flippant anti-war organization. The fact that Macgregor had also written a widely read book, The New Testament Basis of Pacifism, gave evidence of the deeply religious orientation of the F.O.R. movement. The Peace Movement and Social Action Since a central position of the Fellowship of Reconciliation held that the Christian message was profoundly relevant for life in the real world, it followed that one of its compelling challenges was to deal practically with the social and cultural issues consistent with such a perspective. Thus the F.O.R. movement took seriously the prophetic message of the Bible such as is reflected in Micah 6:8 which reads as follows: "What does thy God require of thee but to love kindness, do justice, and walk humbly with your God. " Christ's "Sermon on the Mount" and his characteristic responses to the poor, the sick, and the socially rejected inspired F.O.R. members as well. 46 In the context of our social situation in our part of the world in the 1930s, this took on special meaning. The great Truck Drivers Strike in 1934 and the following years of organized labor's struggle to achieve decent wages and humane working conditions as well as the other legacies of the "Great Depression" prompted peacemakers toward a sympathetic response to the cries of justice implicit in these issues. In those responses, the F. 0 .R. found encouragement from the more secular peace movement that had been developed by prominent political leaders in Minneapolis and the state legislature. Closely related to those developments was a growing conviction among our F.O.R. friends that we must seek to nurture ways oflife more consistent with and productive of peaceful human relations. Among our friends who were especially concerned about this were Elliott and Eleanor Marston. Elliott was an Episcopal Rector serving as pastor of the flourishing St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in Edina. He was a very sensitive and well-informed person with widely varied experiences in the ecumenical church world. As our friendship with the Marstons grew, we realized we shared similar convictions about current social issues. We agreed that a highly competitive and individualistic culture was inimical to both local and global peace. We read with interest reports of developing cooperative and community oriented ventures led by F.O.R. movements in other parts of the world, and became active in local cooperatives in Minneapolis and supportive of other social developments in the area. The Co-op Farm Venture & the Peace Movement The more we thought about the merits of a cooperative and community-oriented culture and its relevance for our FOR position, the more we began thinking about what new steps we might take in promoting such a culture. This led finally to our decision to launch a cooperative farm venture together. Elliot Marston resigned from the Edina parish and became rector of two smaller churches--one in a labor-oriented parish in Northeast Minneapolis and one in a rural parish northwest of the city. Since my teaching assignment was only part-time, I could reconcile my necessary work on the farm with that teaching activity. We purchased an 80-acre dairy/poultry farm on Bass Lake Road about ten miles northwest of Minneapolis. 47 Since both Elliot and I had considerable backgrounds in farm life and organization, we managed to develop a fairly successful dairy arid poultry program. Fran and Eleanor had the challenge of transforming a large old farmhouse into a facility that would accommodate the housing needs of our two families and the hosting requirements we would have for the guests and visitors interested in our venture. Eventually the house provided residential accommodations for an increasing number of F.O.R. members waiting for assignments to alternative to war programs provided for conscientious objectors. Although we managed to develop fairly efficient, if modest, dairy and poultry operations, such productivity was never the sole goal of our venture. We were seeking to grow in the art of cooperative living--pooling our resources, sharing our incomes, and providing cooperative activities in the general community. We marketed our milk with the Twin Cities Milk Producers Cooperative Association and participated in its meetings. We marketed our eggs with the Sumner Field Co-op Grocery Association in North Minneapolis. Both Elliot and I became board members of that inter-racial Cooperative. Through that Cooperative, we became associated with Midland's Consumer Cooperative activities and its educational programs. We hosted a variety of persons and groups interested in our venture, and were in a variety of ways involved in the peace movement. A public school teacher asked to stay with us while writing a book about the Southeastern Minnesota community in which she had been a teacher. A group of members of the South Dakota Hutterite community paid us a visit to share their life story. Several intercultural young people interested in the peace movement spent weekends with us, camping on the pasture hilltops adjoining our farmstead or sleeping in the haymow (loft) of our dairy barn. One of our closest neighbors, with whom we had especially friendly relations, wondered aloud if we might not be "anarchists." It must be noted that he was an immigrant from Denmark and had brought with him a notion of the classical nonviolent anarchist orientation. While we have fond memories of most of these activities, perhaps one of the most moving events was our hosting an intercultural group at one of our Christmas Eve festivities. We invited the group to join us for a typical Christmas Eve dinner, followed by the singing of Christmas carols and attendance at a service at the Elim Lutheran Church in Robbinsdale. 48 Among our guests were two people who had signed up for the University of Minnesota's Starvation Experiment as an alternative to military service. One of them was a young Jewish fellow named Max Kampelman who made a moving statement at the end of the evening's events. He said it was the first time the singing of Christmas carols did not send a dreadful chill in his body--since as a member of a Jewish Community he shared the long memory of the Christmas Eve celebrations in Medieval Europe when "Christians" would invade the Jewish Ghetto and kill their children. Needless to say we were astonished and made keenly aware of the deep tragedy of alienation of the so-called "Christian" community from the very cultural roots of their own faith. We were also thrilled to know that Max had enjoyed our evening together and he continued to be one of our friends during the crisis times. As many will know, Max Kampelman in later years came to play prominent roles in the federal government in Washington D.C. As the war demands grew, an increasing number of conscientious objectors joined our venture. Some of them helped us develop a "peace garden" movement. Others came to stay for a time while waiting for their assignment to "alternative service" work. Some decided to become a part of the Cooperative Farm Community and began working on the farm. Since Elliot Marston became one of the leading counselors for young conscientious objectors, our community became a kind of voluntary service center for many of them. Thus it can be said that our Bass Lake Farm experiment became a multifunctional and dynamic community trying to respond to the challenges facing the peace movement during the wartime crises. When the war was over, the crisis time functions of the community came to an end. The relatively transient C.O. participants returned to more conventional life and work. For a year or so, the community sought to continue its life on the farm , making such adjustments as were necessary. But then the great tragedy of Elliot's sudden death as a victim of the Polio epidemic made the continuation of the community virtually impossible. Eleanor and her three children moved back to her parent's home in Minneapolis, and the farm and all its livestock and equipment were sold, putting an end to an exciting, stimulating experiment. 49 The Cooperative Education Interlude 1945-1947 Through our work with the Sumnerfield Co-op Grocery Store and other co-op activities, Elliot and I had become acquainted with several leaders in Midland Cooperative Wholesale and its dynamic developments. One of them, a former director of agricultural education in the public schools of Minnesota, Harry Peterson, had been appointed Director of Education for Midland. One of his tasks was to organize cooperative educational programs for its local member cooperative associations throughout its rapidly growing region. Having come to know of my interest in both the cooperative movement and community education, as well as my experience as a country school teacher, he invited me to accept an appointment as a Director of Education and Community Relations for an Association of Cooperatives in southeastern Minnesota, and northeastern Iowa. It was with considerable trepidation that Fran and I decided to accept this new challenge. It meant severing our active relations with Augsburg College as well as the Bass Lake Community Farm. It meant the necessity of finding a new home in a new community for our little family, which now included a 2-year-old daughter 7 And of course, it meant our launching out on an entirely new educational venture and establishing linkages in a new rural community setting. To our surprise, finding a place to live in the beautiful little town of Lanesboro became our most difficult first challenge. For four months, I had to rent a room in a family home in town. Fran and our daughter, Carol, went to live with Fran's parents in W estem Minnesota. After a futile search for a place to rent, I decided to buy a plot of land on the edge of town. Here I built a small one-bedroom house, which was later combined with a duplex to accommodate the housing needs of my brother, Ludolph, and his wife, Alpha, and Alpha's brother and his family. All of us involved with the development of these housing accommodations learned first-hand something of the socioeconomic difficulties of our country's transition form a war time to a peace time life. The shortage of building supplies, the poor quality of much of the new being produced, and the scarcity of good labor--all contributed to both the frustrations and the adventure of continuous problem solving. When it was all done, and our three little families were 50 settled in, and our shared garden made productive, we all found a comfortable and enjoyable setting for our life and work in this area. The Role Expectations of a Director of Cooperative Education Since Midland's programs of cooperative educational associations were relatively new, the role expectations for their directors were relatively ambiguous, but certain expectations were fairly clear. In the first place, the director must establish good relations with all the member cooperatives, including their managers, workers, and board members. He must, as quickly as possible, learn all he could about the history and operations of each cooperative. For me that meant spending considerable time at such dispersed places as Plainview, a few miles east of Rochester; Lewiston, a few miles west of Winona; Hokah, in the southeast comer of Minnesota and near Lacrosse, Wisconsin; and Decorah, Iowa. Since Lanesboro and Rushford were neighboring towns in Fillmore County, they were in a sense hometown locations. Needless to say, I had much to learn and many to meet in a very short time. A more clearly defined role was to help each cooperative plan and promote its annual meeting--getting a good attendance and arranging for a well-planned program including guest speakers, good music, and good food. I think I can say that my work with publicity, including contacts with editors of local papers, as well as my relations with leaders of other community organizations, literally transformed many of those annual meetings from poorly attended events that barely fulfilled quorum needs into large and quite festive occasions. As educational director, I was also expected to help promote local community settings for the study of cooperatives and their relevance for the nurture of a good social order. These were often developed around existing neighborhood programs where I would provide visual aid materials available from Midland's educational program. All such activities were of course developed with the help of members of the local cooperatives throughout the region. In a more indirect way, my cooperative educational activities were carried on in the context of my role as community relations director for the member cooperatives. In this context I met with commercial clubs, farm organizational meetings, 4-H clubs, and 51 local churches, describing to them the work of cooperatives and their social goals. I also met with public schools and colleges in the area. Through my association with local county agricultural agents, 4-H club leaders, soil conservation specialists, and directors of other farm programs in the area, I was able to establish positive relations between the cooperatives and their programs. Some Assessments of my Work Even though all these activities meant a great deal of traveling throughout the area and life apart from my family and home, there were many positive personal rewards. I learned something about both the charm and hazards of driving among the deep valleys and hills, which are characteristic of the landscape in this part of Minnesota. I came to a keener appreciation of the important relationship between soil conservation and environmental consciousness. I found intriguing some of the subtle differential impacts of landscape variations upon neighborhood cultures as reflected in the life of the "valley people" and the "prairie people." I learned much about the social structure and value orientations of such rural communities as could be found in Southeastern Minnesota. Of course because of the very nature of my work, I learned much about the cooperative movement in general and about its role in contemporary society. I read many books about the history of the cooperative movement, including its inspiration from the Rochdale pioneers in Britain to its developments in Scandinavia and in this country. Midland's own story provided an instructive illustration. From its early beginnings as a small filling station operation in Minneota, Minnesota and the rapid growth of local cooperative oil associations throughout the Middle West, leading to the founding of Midland Cooperative Wholesale was a dramatic success story. Its necessary entry into a cooperative refinery program and then to the acquisition of oil wells meant that local farmers through cooperation had established a coherent economic linkage between production and consumption. "Production for use rather than for profit" became a part of their story. Similar developments took place in an increasing variety of commodities, such as feeds, seeds, and fertilizers. The development of a cooperative milking machine factory and a sales force for distributing the same to its members added to the complexities. 52 All these developments inevitably brought Midland and all its members into increasingly complex relations with the general culture. Midland's employee staff expanded immensely and the requirements for their specialization grew even more complex. Increasingly, the needs for professional management and increasingly sophisticated personnel policies began to take priority over cooperative education. This had special implications for those of us working in such educational programs. We began to wonder about the viability of our potential role in Midland's future. Some of us were encouraged to enter into management and related activities. The Letter that Changed My Life While both Fran and I were beginning to reflect upon our possible changing role m the cooperative movement, I received a most welcome letter from Dr. Bernhard Christensen who was now President of Augsburg College. He was eager to have me return to Augsburg and resume my teaching of the courses in sociology that I had taught before and to take a leadership role in developing a major in sociology, together with a related program of social work education. Although I had enjoyed my work as Director of Cooperative Education for Midland and its affiliates, and thought it important, I found this invitation to return to college teaching and the accompanying possibility of completing a Ph.D. program in Sociology irresistible. Thus, in the early fall of 194 7, I resigned my duties with the cooperative movement and our now family of four prepared for our move back to Minneapolis. By this time we had established many pleasant associations with people in Lanesboro and its surrounding area and had come to appreciate the distinctive charm of this town's beautiful location on the Root River and in the shadows of the towering bluffs overhead. That many of our new friends organized a surprise party to bid us farewell seemed to indicate that our fondness for them had been reciprocal; for that we were deeply grateful. 53 Part Six: My Life as a College Professor Introduction My return to Augsburg in the fall of 1947 was destined to be the beginning ofmy major life's career as college professor and academic scholar. For the next thirty years I was immersed in the college's dynamic growth and development as a liberal arts center of higher learning seeking to respond creatively to the complex challenges of a rapidly changing world. Dr. Christensen's leadership as President of the college, contributed greatly to both the joys and achievements of my work as college professor. While being faithful to the fundamental historic religious orientations of Augsburg, he responded fo the challenges of a changing world with imaginative understanding, of how the college might most creatively respond to the new realities of life. Having completed extensive studies in leading universities in both the U.S.A. and Europe, he was sensitive to both ecumenical and world perspectives. For him a college like Augsburg should be a creative center for life and learning. Its religious orientation should contribute to such a community the highest ethical and humane sensitivities and values derived from its Judeo-Christian legacy. It was out of such a perspective that he held that "education for service" should be one of Augsburg's main objectives. Beyond his ideas about community service, Christensen acted them out in his own life. In 1946, for example, he accepted Mayor Hubert Humphrey's invitation to be an active member of his innovative Council on Human Relations. From 1948 to 1950 he assumed chairmanship of that Council. In the context of that assignment, he played a 54 prominent role in the Minneapolis Self-Survey of its human relations practices and the follow-up fight against discrimination. It is understandable that such leadership from the college's president made my new assignment as chairman of its sociology department in the fall of 194 7 such an intriguing one. The following first statement of the department's objectives were clearly consonant with Dr. Christensen's orientations: 1. To help students attain a better understanding of society. 2. To prepare students for social service, graduate training in social work or sociology. 3. To explore the relevance of Christianity to effective social service. To tell the story of my academic career, I found it helpful to divide the account into the following three periods that seem consonant with both the societal changes and responses to them: (1.) 1947 to 1958, (2.) 1958 to 1968, (3.) 1969 to 1979. (1.) The First Decade As is always true, everyone begins a new career bringing to it the influence of his or her past social geography and history. I think I can say that of my work as teacher scholar at Augsburg was significantly informed by at least the following major influences upon my life: 1. The Judeo-Christian legacies of love and justice as mediated through the religious nurture of my home, church, and Augsburg College. 2. The liberal arts legacy nurtured through my studies at Augsburg College and the University of Minnesota. 3. My encounters with the "Great Depression" and my involvement with various programs thought to deal with its problems. 4. My involvement in the "peace movement." The interplay of these influences significantly shaped both the character and style of my work at Augsburg. In developing the department of sociology, I consciously sought to promote a rigorous and dispassionate, as well as a sympathetic understanding of society, the human community, and personality. I thought it important for both student 55 and teacher to wrestle with the tension between a "rigorous and dispassionate" quest for societal understanding, and the more "compassionate and sympathetic" concern for the fate of the human community. It was in the context of such an encounter that I sought to promote lively classroom discussions of issues of social justice, human dignity, and caring concern for all members of the human community. This, I thought especially appropriate in the context of Dr. Christensen's emphasis upon education for service. Closely related to this approach was my interest in examining the relevance of Christianity for effective social service. Another continuing motif of my work was to develop strategies whereby the "realities" of community life would become part of the learning laboratory for both student and professor. For all learners, but especially for the professor, this meant becoming participant observer-learners in such significant community affairs that would have special relevance for the subjects being studied. Another strategy was to bring to the classroom representative leaders of community affairs to speak about the social issues being dealt with in their work. These strategies proved particularly significant in our development of an undergraduate program of social work education in the decade of the fifties. Representatives of social work agencies contributed greatly to our classroom discussions, and their agencies were helpful in providing participant-observer field experiences for our students. Perhaps the most important strategy for involving the social work community in our program was the appointment of a prominent social work leader to teach an introductory course in the fields of social work and arrange for field placements of the students in appropriate social service areas. As a result of these strategies, literally hundreds of Augsburg graduates became involved in important social work agencies in the Twin Cities area and beyond. And many later pursued post-graduate studies related to their work. As I look back upon those years, I remember with special gratitude the friendly and helpful people in the welfare community who played such an important role in the development of Augsburg's social work education. I am especially grateful to the late Harold Belgum and his wife Marilyn Belgum who taught the courses in social work 56 education and supervised the field placement programs for our students. They both combined the virtues of excellent academic credibility with a wide breadth of knowledge and experience in the fields of social work. Besides all that, they were good and great people who inspired both our students and faculty. Graduate Studies and Development of the Sociology Program Aside from these developments in social work education my major preoccupation in the decade of the l 950s was to complete my post-graduate studies toward a Doctorate in Sociology and to introduce the courses in sociology necessary for a responsible major in that field. I owe much to certain distinguished University of Minnesota Sociology professors for whatever competence I achieved in that field of study. Dr. Don Martindale, Professor of Sociological Theory, made a sophisticated study of that field both intensely interesting and highly relevant for the understanding of the nature and dynamics of human society. He introduced me to many prominent scholars and their books, which helped me immensely. I found his book, Elements of Sociology (co-authored by his colleague, Professor Monachesi) to be the best, as well as the most intellectually rigorous, introduction to the study of sociology. He was extremely helpful to me in developing the theoretical framework for my Ph.D. dissertation. Don Martindale's untimely death, from a heart attack, was a great loss to me personally as well as to the University of Minnesota. Dr. Lowry Nelson, professor and chair of the university's program in Rural Sociology, did the same for me in the sociology of community. Because of my early nurture in a rural community and a later more professional role in rural community leadership, it was understandable that I should choose rural sociology as one of my areas of graduate study concentration. I soon learned that Lowry Nelson was one of the nation's leading rural sociologists. But for me he was more than that; I found him to be a gentle, sensitive and friendly professor, much loved by his students. I was delighted to have him as the major advisor in my doctoral studies. It was understandable that during the 1950s Rural Sociology became one of the principal courses in our departmental maJor. 57 Another of my areas of special interest was in the field of human relations. Here the well-known scholar, Dr. Arnold Rose, was especially helpful. He conducted three highly insightful seminars in social psychology where such issues as intercultural and labor-management relations were given significant attention. These graduate experiences quite naturally influenced the development of our sociology curriculum in the 1950s. Besides the introductory courses in sociology and social problems, we added courses in sociological theory, social psychology, racial and inter-group relations, and rural sociology. As the instructor in rural sociology, I sought to relate my experiences in the rural communities of my early life and those as an elementary school teacher in a rural community. Similarly, I took advantage of my rural community contacts and its cooperatives while working in Lanesboro, including a class field trip to that area to meet with its community leaders. Because of my interest and involvement in rural community life and culture, I had been invited to become a member of the American Lutheran Church's Rural Life Commission led by the Reverend E.W. Mueller. From thqt Commission, I received much information about rural life developments in the U.S.A. I was asked to participate in several of its conferences in the country and at some of them to present formal papers on rural life and its challenges for the church. In the summer of 1949, I represented Augsburg at a conference on Lutheran Higher Education in Service to Rural People, and was asked by E.W. Mueller to prepare a summary statement of the deliberations at that conference. The Augustana Theological Seminary in Rock Island, Illinois hosted that conference. Through such participation in rural life activities, I sought to enliven my teaching with reflections on contemporary developments in rural America. Church - Labor Relations and the Academic Experience Perhaps in no arena of community life was my academic role as participantobserver put to more extensive use in the 1950s than in Church-Labor relations. From my very beginnings as college student and resident of Minneapolis, I became intensely interested in the momentous labor-management struggle that led to the historic Truck Drivers Strike in 1934. The details of that strike are too well known to warrant 58 elaboration in this story. Suffice it to say that it came to a virtual "civil war" between the emerging labor movement and the commercial and industrial management groups. The conflict led ultimately to Governor Floyd B. Olson's establishing martial law and bringing in a Federal Mediator to help bring the two sides to a settlement, which for the first time established union recognition as an essential right for the workers. This whole story captured national attention as a significant reflection of President Roosevelt's New Deal Labor legislation. An intriguing question arose from this labor-management struggle: "What role did organized religion and church-related colleges play in this momentous drama and what relevance does the Judeo-Christian legacy have concerning it?" While it appeared that a great many of the labor participants in the struggle were at least nominally members or had some historic identities with organized religion, there was little evidence of organized religion's support for organized labor's struggle. Some leaders of the Minnesota Council of Churches and the Mim1eapolis Church Federation were concerned, and established a Church-Labor Committee made up of leaders of both labor organizations and the religious community. I was invited to become a member of that committee and later appointed its chairman. One of the first actions of the committee was to decide on its basic purposes. The following four purposes were agreed upon: 1. To help achieve on the part of the church an understanding of labor and its problems and aims 2. To come to a better appreciation of the role that labor plays in the social and economic life of the community 3. To explore areas of common interest and goals 4. To encourage a mutual acquaintance between labor and the church To implement these efforts the Committee arranged with professors of Macalaster College to conduct an informational survey of the extent to which church leaders were related to union activities and leaders of labor unions to church activities. The Committee also arranged for a church labor dinner for Twin City Ministerial students at the Minneapolis YMCA on April 11, 1950 hosted by the Minnesota and Hennepin county C. I. 0. Councils. The dinner featured Dr. A. D. Mattson, professor of 59 social ethics at the Augustana Lutheran College and Seminary at Rock Island, Illinois. The committee later sponsored a church labor breakfast hosted by Augsburg College featuring the highly articulate Professor Kermit Eby from the University of Chicago. As chairman of this Committee, I naturally became involved with many issues bearing on labor-management issues and church responses to them. But probably most important for me, I came to know personally some very sensitive and able leaders of the labor movement, such as Rodney Jacobson, a leader from the Minnesota C. I. 0. and Robert Wishart, President of the Hennepin county C. I. 0. Council. One of the consequences of my working with the Church-Labor Committee was my decision to add a course in industrial relations to Augsburg's sociology curriculum. Again, the labor leaders visited the class and told their story, thereby adding some additional drama to the class deliberation. Another consequence was my invitations to speak to many church groups about the relevance of the "Cry for Justice" legacy of the Biblical heritage to labor-management relations. Perhaps the most significant consequence of my participation in the work of the Church-Labor Committee was its impact on my academic life. Even as the Great Depression had made me acutely aware of the important relations between the economic order and human welfare, I now became similarly conscious of the important relations between the economic order and human welfare for the workers in the city. As a scholar in a church-related college concerned about human welfare and as a sociologist asked to develop a program of social work education, I found that a disciplined study of the relations between the economic order and human affairs essential. This was reflected in my graduate studies at the University as well as in my scholarly preparation for my teaching. Several of my colleagues at the college shared my interest in this kind of study, and out of our reflections the question arose: "what has Christian higher education to do with the issues of the economic order's impact on human welfare?" This led to my presentation of an extensive paper on Christian Education and the Economic Problems of our Da~ This presentation was part of a series of faculty studies conducted in 19501951. In re-reading that paper forty-six years later I was pleased to find that it reflected a disciplined scholarly approach to the subject with an extensive bibliography cutting across wide areas of historical, sociological, and theological sources. 60 As I rummaged through my files from 1947 to 1958, I discovered several other papers presented to various groups, which reflect some of my developing areas of special concern. In a paper presented at the Unitarian Society, I elaborated on the role of the small liberal arts college in contemporary America. Another paper addressed the "Role of the Church in a Changing World" at the downtown Central Lutheran Church. Toward the end of the decade I presented a paper entitled "Toward an Adequate Cooperative Philosophy For Our Time" at a meeting of the Cooperative League chapter in the Twin Cities. In all of these I sought to bring some of the insights I had acquired through my graduate studies at the university as well as my work at Augsburg. What demanded most of my time and attention was the research and writing of my Doctoral Dissertation, which was completed in 1958. The title of that thesis was The Development of an Institution: A Case History of Midland Cooperatives Incorporated. When that was approved and I received my degree at the University on June 14, 1958 the first decade of my role as College Professor had come to a dramatic end. Incidentally, that date was also my father's birthday as well as National Flag Day. The reader can easily imagine the profound joy and satisfaction of such an ending of a decade of work and study. (2) Academia and the Turbulent Sixties In a strictly academic sense my role at Augsburg during the sixties continued much as in the preceding decade. I continued to promote social work education as part of a gradually strengthened sociology curriculum. Having completed my post-graduate work for a doctorate, I was able to participate more actively in such professional organizations as the Midwest and American Sociological societies, as well as the Minnesota Council of Social Work Education. I could also participate more actively in student and faculty activities of the College. But, the sixties turned out to be a very turbulent and crisis filled decade. The relative serenity of the preceding post-war decade of the fifties came to a dramatic end with the tragic assassination of President John F. Kennedy in Dallas in 1963. The whole nation was profoundly shocked and saddened. The entire Augsburg community came to a sudden halt as all ofus - students, faculty, and administrative staff walked solemnly across Murphy Square to fill the Melby Hall Auditorium Chapel for a quiet sharing of our 61 common grief and shock. Professor William Halvorson led us in a brief but apt devotional expression of our shared pain. Many of us returned to our homes to share our grief with our own families. After the grieving, came the questioning about what was happening to our country; were we reaping a harvest of the strident "McCarthyism" of the previous decade? Was the assassination a reflection of a growing violence in our culture? Was it an act of conspiracy? No sensitive academic community could avoid such and similar questions. But these questions were soon to be followed by a national crisis in race relations. The Supreme Courts 1954 Brown Vs the Board of Education decision outlawing segregation in public schools and the Little Rock confrontation in 1959 were but preludes to the more dramatic events of the sixties --The Freedom Rides begun in 1961, The Birmingham Bus Boycott of 1963, and the mammoth march on Washington organized by Dr. Martin Luther King in August of that year. The crusade for racial justice and civil rights had finally become the over-riding moral issue. The assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King in Memphis in 1968 sent a shock wave throughout the country that ended in burning fires in many of our major cities including our own city of Minneapolis. Our Augsburg community reacted to Martin Luther King's assassination much as it did to President Kennedy's. Another dimension of the racial justice struggle was related to the activities of the United Farm Workers Union in California, led by its dynamic leader Casar Chavez. That struggle of the Mexican-American fruit growers was dramatized throughout the whole country by Edward R. Murrow's moving television story, "The Harvest of Shame." On top of all this was America's most unpopular and ignominious war in Vietnam, which led to President Johnson's decision not to seek another term in 1968. Throughout the country a pervasive counter-culture arose which had a profound impact on the youth of America, including students in our colleges and universities. The racial justice crusade and the anti-Vietnam war issues were reflected in the political campaign of 1968. One of the democratic candidates to succeed President Johnson was Attorney General Robert Kennedy. He became a popular champion of racial justice in that campaign. His assassination while on a dramatic campaign in California again eroded the nation's confidence in its future. In the context of these turbulent forces of change in the sixties, it 62 was inevitable that our life and work at Augsburg would be dramatically challenged by these events. The Civil Rights Movement and My Role at Augsburg In a general way, many of us at the college sought creative ways to respond to the new challenges--each out of the context of his or her particular social geography. For me the crisis of the sixties came to have a compelling relevance for my work at the college. Everything I had learned from my studies there, including a compassionate concern for human welfare and social justice, prompted my involvement in the civil rights movement. My first personal involvement was as an Augsburg delegate to the Joint Committee for Equal Opportunity, made up of more than sixty leading civic organizations of the Twin Cities. This organization represented an extensive cross section of this area's cultural life, including business, education, religion, labor, and minority organizations. It was a voluntary committee committed to eliminate discrimination in the fields of employment and housing. I became active in the Joint Committee in the middle fifties and soon learned to know that many people and organizations shared a common concern for human rights in our region. I shall never forget Mrs. John Gruner who chaired the Committee when I first became a member. Because of her artful combination of passion for justice with intelligence and skillfulness in human relations, she perhaps did more than anyone to break down the barriers of employment opportunities in downtown Minneapolis and to facilitate the enactment of fair employment practices legislation in the Minneapolis council and the State legislature. In 1958, I was elected Chairman of the Joint Committee and became particularly active in promoting equal opportunity in the field of housing. If I may be permitted some immodesty, because of the appointment, I was featured as a "Town Topper" in the Minneapolis Star Tribune. But much more importantly, I came to know personally some wonderful people such as John M. Warder, our Treasurer, Mrs. Harold Field and Mrs. A. J. Smaby our housing chairs, and Mr. Richard Fox of the Urban League. Together with them and many others we promoted a highly varied program of activities, including 63 providing speakers for a wide variety of organizing conferences on equal opportunity, and working with Minnesota legislators to promote legislation against discrimination. Because of my identity with Augsburg, I had the opportunity of speaking to many churches in the area about the relevance of the Civil Rights Movement for their ministry. One never knows what the fruits of one's activities in such work as was sponsored by the Joint Committee. One only hopes that the cause might be served. We worked diligently to promote fair practices in the housing industry. Perhaps one of the most memorable events that we sponsored was a large luncheon conference at Lees Village Inn in St. Paul with representatives of the housing industry. A letter from the Executive Director of the State of Minnesota's Commission Against Discrimination indicated precisely what the objective of the event was, and of course gave us courage to think that our work was not in vain. The Fair Housing Committee of the Greater Minneapolis Council of Churches My activities in the Joint Committee led to other opportunities for involvement in the Civil Rights Movement. The Greater Minneapolis Council of Churches under the leadership of its Director, Rev. David Witheridge, established in 1960 the fair Housing Committee of the Council. Dr. Frederick A. Schiotz, President of the American Lutheran Church, played a leading role in its development. At an early organizational meeting hosted by Dr. Bernhard Christensen in December 1960, Schiotz was elected Chairman of the Committee and I was asked to serve as its Secretary. The objectives of the Committee were clearly enunciated in the following excerpt from a letter sent to the churches: "In recent years every major denomination has adopted resolutions calling for equality of all people, regardless of race, religion, or national origin. In our part of the country we have been fairly successful in eliminating discrimination, except in the matter of rental and purchasing of housing. The churches of our area are about to launch a concerted attempt to change the climate of opinion among our church members regarding housing discrimination. " The following two years the Committee sponsored large inter-church gatherings, institutes, advertising programs in the major press, as well as conferences with legislators 64 working on anti-discrimination in housing legislation. It is perhaps safe to say that its activities contributed significantly to the passage of laws against housing discrimination in the Minnesota State Legislature. A large meeting with members of the legislature in Christ Lutheran Church near the capitol urging their enactment of such legislation is believed to have played an important role in its enactment. Both as secretary of this committee and as its chairman after May 2, 1962, I was inevitably involved in its programs--including presenting papers at some of its conferences. The Mayor's Commission on Human Relations It is quite likely that my participation in these varied human rights activities had something to do with my invitation from Mayor Arthur Naftalin to become a member of the Mayor's Commission on Human Relations in November of 1963. For many reasons, I was especially grateful for that invitation. As has already been noted, Naftalin's predecessor, Mayor Hubert H. Humphrey, initiated this Commission. Furthermore, President Bernhard Christensen had been appointed Chairman of that Commission. I knew that Mr. N aftalin shared similar passions about human relations, as did Mr. Humphrey. Participation in this Commission in many ways was an educational experience, providing reports from its Law Enforcement Committee about problems and program activities in that area, and reports from the Housing Committee on developments in that area. As Chairman of its Education Committee, I learned much about what was developing in Human Rights education in the Minneapolis public schools, as well as in the colleges in our metropolitan region and in the University of Minnesota. As in my other involvements in human rights activities, I came to know some wonderful men and women from highly varied backgrounds who were deeply committed to the goals and programs of the Civil Rights Movement. The TV Series on Religion and Race in American Life In the spring of 1964, I was given the opportunity to present a series of six television lectures on "Religion and Race in American Life." The presentation was part of the Minnesota Private College Hour series on K.T.C. A. public television. Through 65 this presentation I attempted to give a scholarly documentation of the role that religion had played in America's historic dilemma caused by the wide gap between its democratic creed and its racist practices. Needless to say, preparing for this presentation made necessary an extensive reading of many important new books and periodicals treating the subject. It also provided me my first experience in presenting my finding's in a television format. I later transposed those presentations into a written monograph on the same topic. Participant - Observer and the Classroom It was inevitable that my participation in the Civil Rights Movement would impinge on my work in the classroom. In a sense the very idea of "Education for Service" contained within it a potential tension between pre-occupation with academic excellence on the one hand and the impulse of wanting to become involved in community service on the other. But the positive fruits of community involvement seemed to me more than compensated for it. In many ways, it served as a virtual laboratory supplement to classroom I deliberation. This was especially true in our course in Race and Intercultural Relations, where several of the civil rights leaders I had come to know came to our cli;l.SS to tell their story. They made an invaluable contribution to our classroom. I shall always remember with gratitude the contribution of such superb leaders as Josie Johnson who was acting director for the Minneapolis Urban League and her colleague from that organization Richard Fox. They presented the story of the black struggle for justice in both a gracious and compelling manner. The same can be said for Samuel Scheiner, Director of the Jewish Community Relations Council of Minnesota, Daisuke Kitagawa, leader of Japanese-American community in our area, and Ada Deer, representative of the American Indian community on the Mayor's Commission on Human Relations. Besides being good communicators who shared a common passion for human justice, they all had impressive academic credentials appropriate for the scholarly quest. Our college owes these "visiting professors" a vote of thanks for their profound contributions. ' 66 The Urban Crisis and Academia Anyone significantly involved in the civil rights movement in the sixties soon discovered that the racial crisis had become conjoined with a national urban crisis. President Lyndon Johnson was fully aware of this when he addressed the nation about his proposed response to both crises. As a college in the heart of a city, Augsburg could not escape the implications of that assessment for its academic program. For the department of sociology, it had special significance. Even as the department had responded to the "racial crisis" with special emphasis on race relations, it responded in similar ways to the "urban crisis." _The accent on urban sociology was intensified. Even as during the fifties I worked with the national Lutheran Councils Rural Life program, m the sixties I served on the Advisory Committee of the Urban Life Commission of the National Lutheran Council, which had been directing urban community studies throughout the country. In 1964, its able director Dr. Walter Kloetzli from Chicago, asked me to direct a campus area study here in the Twin Cities. Thus for the first time a comprehensive sociological analysis of Augsburg's surrounding community was done. Of course, the study also included a description of the University's West Bank area as well as its St. Paul Campus community., We titled the publication Campus Areas in a Midwest Metropolis. \ Apparently, Dr. Kloeltzli was pleased with my work since the following year, he asked me to direct another study for a group of churches in the Phalen Park community of St. Paul's eastside. In order to do such studies well, we created a Social Science Research Center, bringing additional faculty into the work, including Dr. David Nordlie, a new colleague in the sociology department and Dr. Robert Hemmingson from the economics department. Margaret Habek Fisher, a sociology major, served as a research assistant, and Valborg Basmoe of Augsburg's printing services directed the printing of the new 145-page study. Perhaps the most important outcome of that study was the development of a vital Phalen Park community organization, which continued to nurture community consciousness, and innovative programs for decades to come. Similar observations can be made about two following studies: the SummitUniversity: A Profile of an Inner City Community completed in 1966 and The North End Community; a north St. Paul community in 1967. The first of these was done for the St. 67 / Paul Housing Authority and the second one for a group of churches in the north St. Paul area. When President Johnson's "model city" programs were launched, the activities of the Social Science Research Center directed a study of its activities in south Minneapolis. By then Dr. Robert Clyde had joined our faculty and become the Director of the center. Dr. Clyde had a doctorate in social science from the University of Iowa and had become an invaluable member of our faculty. Vernon Bloom, a specialist in social work, had joined our faculty about the same time. Besides teaching some of the social work courses, he also taught our course in criminology. When the model cities program was launched, he was assigned as an Augsburg faculty member to assist in its development. Vern had also been a member of the Mayor's Commission on Human Relations. The Sabbatical Search 1965-66 The more we became involved in urban affairs, the more we began to ask the question--what is the appropriate role of a liberal arts college located at the center of an exploding metropolis? Thus, during the academic year of 1965-66, I was granted an extended sabbatical for the study of that very question. After an extensive ~xamination of the primary and secondary literature on the emerging metropolis and the responses of universities and colleges to it, it became evident that most of the pioneering vis-a-vis this concern was being done in urban-centered universities. In the spring of 1966, I joined an urban specialist working with churches in our area, Rev. Bud Klippen, on an extensive I study-tour examining their innovative programs and their relationship to the special urban and human relations issues of their cities. Among the campuses visited were the following: The University of Chicago Case-Western Reserve University in Cleveland The University of Pittsburgh University of Pennsylvania and Temple in Philadelphia Hopkins University in Baltimore Howard and American Universities in Washington, D.C. Columbia and New York University in New York City 68 Harvard and MIT in Cambridge Monteith College and Wayne State in Detroit Visits to these campuses were planned so that we might get some exposure to important urban dynamics taking place in their cities and to how their programs were related to them. Needless to say, we learned that each campus and each of these cities provided distinctive lessons for us. Upon my return to Augsburg, I prepared a report of my sabbatical study for our Dean, Kenneth Bailey. . I titled the report as The Liberal Arts College in the Modem Metropolis. It described some of my major impressions from the study and elaborated on some of the distinctive lessons that could be learned from what other universities were doing. Major academic responses to the urban challenges, which I had found particularly appropriate for Augsburg, included the following: the metropolis as a laboratory for liberal learning, the metropolis as a laboratory for research, the metropolis as an opportunity for community service, and the metropolis as an arena for corporate academic responsibility. Apparently the Dean was pleased by the report and arranged to have me present a more extensive paper on the same topic in January the following year. I added to the report some suggestions for possible Augsburg action. . In re-reading this report I was both a bit awed as well as highly gratified that nearly all eleven of these suggestions had been given serious consideration and in many instances were implemented by the college in the following years as it developed an Interdisciplinary Metro-Urban Studies Program. Upon my return to the classroom in the fall of 1967, I think my sabbatical studies affected virtually everything I did. Certainly, my courses in Urban Sociology, Social Problems, and Social Psychology were made more relevant. My role as chairman of the sociology department provided me an opportunity to discuss with colleagues in that department as well as other faculty members in the college how we might develop more effective programs for metro-urban studies. The Assassination That Changed Everything All of the preceding relatively calm academic deliberations came to a sudden stop with the tragic and shocking assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King. As in other cities 69 ' of America, the "time for burning" had also come to the streets of north Minneapolis. On March 27, 1968, President Oscar Anderson called an impromptu meeting of several faculty members to discuss how the college might best respond to the urban crisis. Out of this meeting came the idea of "a Day in May" when the whole college community would listen to the voices of despair and revolt from the inner cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul. The impact of that dramatic experience with students and faculty learning directly from their surrounding community about the deeply felt frustration and anger of hurting people in our cities was intense. Educational "business as usual" no longer seemed defensible. The crisis had a similar impact upon the leaders of the Youth Department of the American Lutheran Church. Its director, Rev. Ewald Bash, had for many years worked with students from our Lutheran Colleges in exploring interracial and economic issues of urban America. He now concluded that a time had come for a "Crisis Leaming Experience" for such students and that a "Crisis Colony" semester in north Minneapolis should be arranged. Having learned about my growing interest in urban studies and my passion for social justice, he asked me to help him get such a semester arranged through Augsburg College so that its students could enroll in its program, live in the area, and participate in voluntary service in its various organizations and programs. He also asked me to develop a course on "power and community in the modem metropolis." We secured the help of our political science Professor Dr. Myles Stenshoel, who would teach a course entitled Government in the Modem Metropolis. Leaders of the community involved in the conflict were provided honoraria for telling their stories, and Joe Bash led a course on Church and the Inner City. The crisis colony had a profound impact on the students. Many have since said that their lives were changed. Some said that all urban studies classes should be in community. I There can be no doubt that this new academic experience also profoundly influenced our urban studies programs in the decade of the seventies. 70 (3.) Metro-Urban Program Development in the Seventies In the decade of the 70s, I was immersed in the college ' s development of an innovative program in metro-urban studies. I was appointed by Dean Bailey to chair an interdisciplinary student-faculty team in developing a comprehensive college-wide transdisciplinary program of metro-urban studies. I presented the committee's proposal to the college in January 1971. Among other things, it outlined the major goals of the program including the achievement of the following objectives: 1. An increased appreciation of the creative role of the city in modern life and culture. 2. A keener perception of the nature of the modem metropolis as a community system. 3. A firmer grasp of the dynamics of urban change and its concomitant problems. 4. A stronger motivation for responding creatively to the problems and opportunities of urban life. 5. A greater competence in a variety of human resource skills typically required in urban living. The proposal included the following major components for the college's Metro-Urban Studies Program: 1. An inter-disciplinary metro-urban study major made up of a list of required courses plus some suggested electives from various disciplines. 2. An urban studies "concentration" which could be linked with various majors in the college. 3. A general education requirement in urban concern for all students of the college. As chairman of an inter-disciplinary faculty for monitoring the implementation of this new program, I became rather extensively involved in its development. By this time, Dr. Paul Steen, a specialist in social work education and practices, had joined our faculty, thus relieving me from special attention to our social work education program. 71 I Inter College Partnership in Urban Affairs As the college's involvement in new urban relationships and programs grew, the more acute became its awareness of the need for cooperative partnerships with other colleges sharing similar concerns. As the crisis colony approach to urban education expanded, its costs to Augsburg College grew considerably. Since its approach had considerable appeal to other colleges as well, Dean Bailey arranged for a meeting of representatives of several such institutions in our part of the country to explore possibilities of some inter-college partnerships in these ventures. The outcome of such deliberations was the creation of the Higher Education Consortium for Urban Affairs (HECUA). As the first president of that consortium, I became deeply involved in its developments and expanding programs. Many long meetings were required for the development of its corporate structure, program goals, and strategies. The crisis colony became an inter-college venture, which year by year was transformed into what appears to have become a permanent interdisciplinary "semester in the city" program in the Twin City area. Many other inter-college programs were also developed. The consortium came to include virtually all the liberal arts ~olleges in the Twin Cities, as well as the University of Minnesota. Other colleges in the upper Midwest also joined such as St. Olaf, Carelton, Augustana, Grinnell, and Concordia. By now, about twenty colleges and universities are members of the consortium. One of the gratifications of my participation in the developments of this consortium was the coming t I to know and be enriched by the many representatives of these institutions. The Scandinavian Urban Studies Term (SUST) However, the most gratifying outcome of my involvement in the activities of the consortium was the completely unanticipated development of a semester in the city program in Scandinavia. In the early summer of 1969, the University of Minnesota's Program of Continuing Education in Urban Affairs arranged a conference at the Minneapolis Institute of Art on "The Scandinavian City: A Model for Urban America." It was more popularly referred to as a conference of the "Scandinavian City: An Answer to America's Urban Crisis?" 72 Deeply involved in the Urban Crisis Colony venture at the time and having become intensely interested in the exploding literature on global urbanization, I attended that conference. Its keynote speakers included distinguished architects and urban planners from Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. Listening to their stories, the question flashed through my mind: why not a semester in the city program in Scandinavia? I brought the question to the administrative board of the consortium, and although they had no funds to support an exploration of such a development, they were in general ~ supportive of it. In 1971 my wife, Fran, and I decided to spend our summer vacation visiting major urban centers of Scandinavia, while at the same time exploring with their leading universities the possibility of one of them co-sponsoring such an urban studies program with our consortium. We were joined in our vacation venture by my brother Ludolph and his wife, Alpha. We had beautiful weather and a highly enjoyable vacation. The graciousness of Scandinavian Airlines made our first flight across the Atlantic delightful. First arriving in Oslo for a brief stay, we took a train ride to Telemark to visit some of our remote relatives, and from there we journeyed to Kristansand and Stavanger where we visited some families we had come to know in former years. From Stav~mger, we took our first hydroplane journey in the North Sea to the beautiful city of Bergen where we met and were hosted by a professor of sociology from the University of Bergen for a few days. From Bergan we spent time visiting some of Alpha's relatives on the Hardanger Fjord, after which we took a most wonderful train trip across the mountains back to Oslo. After a few days more at Oslo, we enjoyed an over night boat trip down the Oslo Fjord, arriving the following morning in beautiful Copenhagen where we enjoyed everything we saw, including the enchanting "Stroget"--the city's incredible auto-free pedestrian avenue. From Copenhagen, we took a train across Sweden to its capital city Stockholm. Its reputation as the "Venice of the North" says it all regarding its beauty and charm. When we first arrived in its auto-free downtown we were met with a massive non-violent demonstration prominently displaying large signs saying "USA: Ut Av Vietnam!" U.S.A. out of Vietnam! We soon learned that such sentiment was prevalent throughout Scandinavia. 73 f From Stockholm, we sailed on another boat across the Baltic to spend a few days in Helsinki. A special 4 th of July dinner was served that night, and to our great surprise and delight we were seated at a table with visitors from Welfare Island in New York City, who had come to visit the famous Helsinki New Town of Tapiola. They were working on the development of a New Town on Welfare Island. When we told them of our connection with Augsburg College and its Cedar-Riverside community, it turned out that they knew all about the New Town In Town developments in Cedar-Riverside and had visited there. From Helsinki, we flew back to Oslo and from there back to Minneapolis. In all our visits to the major cities of Scandinavia, I had conversations with strategic scholars and urban planners relative to possibilities of a co-sponsored semester in the city program. It was at the University of Oslo that I found the most positive response. There Professor Phillip Boardman, Director of that university's International Summer School, had a clear understanding of what our consortium was looking for. He said the Summer School was eager to add to its activities an international program in the fall or spring terms of the University. He told me to prepare a proposal that he would bring it to the University's administration for approval. To make a long story short, in the fall of 1973 we launched our first Scandinavian Urban Studies Term at the University of Oslo. Needless to say, the nearly two years of planning and promotion of the program in the U.S., and the extensive negotiations and correspondence with Professor Boardman, demanded much of my time and energy. However, by the time the program began and all Americans involved in it were settled into new homes, I was convinced that all was well. Twenty-three students were enrolled in the program--eight from Augsburg, five from Carleton, four from St. Olaf, five from Macalaster, and one from Augustana. All \ were good students with high grade point averages from their respective colleges. All of them were enrolled in the following three basic courses: I. Orientation to Scandinavian Life and Culture 2. Urbanization and Community Building in Modern Scandinavia 3. Housing and Planning in Scandinavia 74 For the fourth course, each student chose an independent study related to their major in their home college. The faculties were drawn from the University of Oslo and the Oslo School of Architecture, where most of the classes were held. Professor Gullik Kollandsrud from the School of Architecture played a combined role as both Professor and virtual Dean of the program. His leadership was invaluable--bringing a wide variety of guest speakers and arranging for extensive field trips throughout urban Scandinavia. Gullik and his wife, Mari, both distinguished architects in Norway have been our friends .. ever smce. My staff role was identified in Norway as "leder" perhaps best translated as director. The following quote from one of my early letters to James Ahler, the new president of our consortium, reflects some of the "beyond expectation" experiences of the program: As you can imagine, a new program like this has a good many surprises. Perhaps the most dramatic of these so far, was an opportunity for all of us to sail along the "S0rland"--the "smiling" southern coast of Norway in a restored schooner called "Svannen," visiting the coastal cities, meeting with their planners and public leaders along the way. The boat belongs to the National Seafaring Museum and is used by the Social Ministry of Norway during the summer months for exposing troubled youth to marine life and providing an intimate setting for group and interpersonal interaction and rehabilitation. The sailing crews are highly trained seamen attached to Norway's official educational program. Both Fran and I enjoyed this--our first long term stay in Oslo. Fran was in reality my indispensable partner, participating with zest in virtually every venture of our program. She hosted many of the students at our residence and became a friend to all. We also found some time to visit some of our remote relatives in Telemark and pay a brief visit to London. She traveled with us on our extensive field visits to Trondheim, ' Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Helsinki making them both enjoyable as well as instructive. When our youngest daughter, Janice, joined us for our first Christmas outside the U.S.A., I felt that together we experienced the perfect capstone of our first "semester in the city" program in Scandinavia. 75 '£ On my return to Augsburg, I presented a formal report to the faculty and administration as well as to the government board of the consortium. I assumed they might make a formal evaluation of the program before making plans to continue it. To my surprise, there seemed to be a unanimous judgment that it had been a great program for the students and a decision to continue it was promptly made. The program has continued every year since, and became a model for similar semester in the city programs in Bogata, Columbia and other places. Academic Developments in the 1970s In some ways, our academic work at Augsburg before the SUST venture in I Scandinavia had prepared us for our encounter with that culture's response to modem urbanization. Following our Crisis Colony experience in 1968 and the college's decision to launch a new interdisciplinary metro-urban studies program, both faculty and students had become sensitive to some of the new challenges associated with post-industrial urbanization. Being located in the heart of the Cedar-Riverside community, our whole college community became acutely aware of such challenges. The processes of inner city deterioration associated with the developments of University, college, and health care institutions led to demands for urban renewal in the area. With the enactment of the New Communities Act of 1970, the Cedar-Riverside community launched a New Town - In Town program for transforming a decaying inner-city community to a modem postindustrial community. A. The New-Town and the Modem Metropolis Interim In response to these new developments we sought to create special academic programs, which would respond to the "new urbanism." As Director of the college's new metro-urban studies program, I launched a January Interim course entitled "New-Town Developments and the Modem Metropolis" in 1973. The course involved extensive readings on the new urban developments, the earlier New-Town developments in Europe, and the new developments in the U.S. To relate such readings in New Town developments in suburbia, a field trip to Columbia, MD was launched. This trip also included a visit to Washington D.C. where we met with a national director of the New Communities Act and with Minnesota's Congressman Donald Fraser. Upon re-reading 76 the students evaluation of this innovative learning experience, which I was surprised to find in my files, I began to think that it was perhaps one of the most successful courses I had ever directed. I felt richly rewarded for the months of preparation including negotiations with people from Cedar Riverside, Columbia, Maryland, and Washington, D.C., and I am deeply grateful to all those who helped us everywhere. B. Urbanization and Community Building in Modem Scandinavia Upon our return from the Scandinavian Urban Studies Term, I thought our urban program at Augsburg might well translate what we learned from that to an interim course reflecting it. Thus we launched a January 1975 Interim course entitled "Urbanization and Community Building in Modem Scandinavia." Although we lacked the field experience we had in the SUST program, the materials we had gathered in Scandinavia proved helpful. We were able to bring to American students stories of new-town developments in the exploding metropolitan centers of modem Scandinavia. C. Future Metropolis and the New-Town Idea The following summer we introduced an interim course on the Future Metropolis and the New-Town-In Town idea. In developing and directing this course, I teamed up with an urban planner from the Minneapolis HUD program, Richard Little., He had joined our staff under a New Professor in the City program, which we had earlier inaugurated. The very title of the course indicates its subject matter. Mr. Little (Dick) had studied new town developments in England and Scotland and in a unique way complemented what I had learned from Scandinavia. Furthermore, with a Master of Urban Planning degree from the HUD, he was well informed about the New Community's Act and its basic orientations. D. The City and Metro-Urban Planning Perhaps Augsburg's most enduring legacy from Dick Little ' s role as "Professor in the City" in our academic program was his help in developing a new course, The City and Metro-Urban Planning. The more extensively we studied urbanization and community building both in our country and in Scandinavia, the more convinced we became of the critical role of urban planning. So far our curriculum had not adequately reflected that. We had developed a new interdisciplinary lower-division course in "The Human Community in the Modem Metropolis," but no upper division program in urban 77 I planning. After long sessions of collaborations, Dick and I had hammered out what I think was a very well designed course on The City and Metro-Urban Planning. In addition to extensive readings on the field, the course provided strategies for using the planning programs of our Twin Cities for field experience. This course has continued to be an integrated part of our metro-urban studies major ever since. E. Philadelphia and the Quest for a Humane City As we were approaching the Bicentennial for America's Declaration of Independence, the thought occurred to me that the historic city of Philadelphia might well become an appropriate January Interim for 1976. Dick Little agreed with me about this, and, since he had spent some time in that city, he was helpful in securing contacts with essential people working there. One of those was National Park Historian, Chester Brooks, who had become the Director of the First City National Park in Philadelphia. Chester had also been a student in my history class many years earlier and responded positively to my inquiry regarding a possible field trip in Philadelphia as a strategic experience for such a course. Professor Carl Chrislock - an outstanding historian with specialization in American history - agreed to join me as co-professor of the course. We began the Interim with an extensive reading of Philadelphia's history from the colonial days with William Penn, through its role in the American Revolution, and its transformation to an industrial city, and then to its current post industrial life. Our field visit to Philadelphia met all our fondest hopes. For Fran and me it was a perfectly delightful experience. Chester Brooks and his wife Ebba hosted us in their attractive residence on "society hill"--named from the days when the early crafts people lived there. We met with planners, professors from the University of Pennsylvania, staff people from Philadelphia's Planning Department, as well as political and religious leaders of the city. Chester led our study of activities of the National Park in the heart of the city. Thanks to Chester and Ebba Brooks and their leadership and hospitality, this Philadelphia venture became one of the most unforgettable field experiences for all ofus. F. Urbanism in the Far West: From Frontier City to Modem Metropolis Our college's interim programs provided many opportunities for innovative ~ academic options beyond the regular curriculum. In the January Interim, Michael 78 Walgren, Manager of Augsburg's annual choir tour was planning such a tour in the Far West. He asked me to develop a January Interim for the choir students. After some reflection, I thought this might be an opportune time for students to examine the urban experience of the Far West. I designed such a course and prepared a syllabus with designated readings and topics for discussion. Classes met in November and December to prepare students for the extensive field trip in the western cities where the choir was performing its concerts. Arrangements were made with city leaders and urban planners together with strategic Augsburg alumni living there to lead our field visits in Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Phoenix. Since all the arrangements for housing, travel, etc. were made by Mike Walgren, I could concentrate my work on arranging for the field experience in each of the cities. In Seattle we were given great help by former Augsburg sociology majors, Robert Larson and Robert Moylan, and leaders from the Seattle Planning Department. Similar help was given by a faculty member from the San Francisco State University and leaders from the Planning Department of that city. In Los Angeles we learned first hand something about the implications of "Autopia" for that fragmented and sprawling metropolis. Our planned fiel? experience venture for downtown Los Angeles was completely scuttled because our bus trip from our motel at the north edge of the city to downtown was held up by an impossible traffic jam. When we finally reached downtown, we only had time for some improvised explorations on our own; we learned first hand why modem Scandinavian urban planners are determined to prevent the "Los Angelization of its urban environment." In Phoenix, we received much friendly and effective help from Augsburg sociology major, Roger Gordon. He helped arrange for a driving tour around the city, taking us to the highly publicized experimental city of "Arcosante", the Sun City suburb, as well as the central city. A meeting was arranged for a seminar session with the staff people of the Phoenix Planning office. The entire experience of Phoenix was very rewarding. It provided a gratifying finale to our planned visits to some of the major cities of the Far West. 79 Some indication of my personal assessment of this experience is perhaps best reflected in the following excerpt from a "thank you" letter I mailed to Roger _G ordon upon my return to Minneapolis: From the very beginning of our planning for the January Interim, I knew that a critically important part of our learning would depend on the gracious and thoughtful help from our Augsburg friends along the way. However, everything went "beyond expectations." Your creative helpfulness in the Phoenix area provided an excellent finale for our study. A similar letter was mailed to Robert Larson expressing our gratitude for his excellent leadership in getting us a superb beginning experience in our western city study. Although I did not ask for an appraisal of this January Interim from the 32 students involved in it, I think they too were generally pleased with this Interim experience. Since Fran went along with us on most of the trip, we managed to provide for some extra personal enjoyment along the way. We took the plane to Portland, Oregon to visit my sister Marie and her family before I traveled to Seattle to meet the students there. After our visit to Los Angeles, Frances remained there to visit her sister Barbara and her family. I joined them after the Phoenix visit, and from there we traveled by bus to Fresno, California for our first visit to our niece, Jeanine, and her family. From there, we flew back to Minneapolis. While this January Interim was done after my official retirement, it really represented my last formal academic venture on the Augsburg Campus in the 1970s. Some Reflections on My Retirement When one is officially retired from a career of thirty years in an academic community like Augsburg College, reflections on the legacies of that past inevitability come to mind. For me, perhaps the dominant feeling was one of gratitude for what all the students, faculty colleagues, and other Augsburg personnel have done to make my work at that place so personally rewarding and enjoyable. I always thought that the friendly responsiveness of the students was perhaps the greatest gift for any teacher--a gift that sustains the teacher's zest for the academic life. When that is matched by a congenial faculty and an administration that honors intellectual freedom as well as academic 80 excellence, academia becomes more than a simple workplace--it becomes a tender, loving community. At no time did this become more apparent to me than at the farewell banquet arranged for Fran and me at Jack's Cafe in May of 1978. I owe special thanks to my colleague, Jerry Gerasimo, for heading up the planning for that wonderful evening. But my gratitude extends to all who were there for their expression of kindness toward us. Perhaps on no occasion did I articulate more adequately my feelings about what my Augsburg legacy meant for me more than at the Cap and Gown Day event nine days before graduation on May 12, 1978. The following excerpts from my talk on that occasion say it best: I cannot imagine any teacher who would not like to be appreciated as one who has sought to measure up to the criteria you have used for selecting nominees for the "distinguished professor" award. At the same time, I cannot imagine any teacher who thinks reflectively about the high ideals of those criteria, who would not receive such an award with considerable humility as well as gratitude. To be honored in this way by this graduating class is particularly gratifying for me. In the first place, I have come to know many of you both as dear frien9s as well as good students. In the second place, I am in a sense graduating with you. I have been observing that countdown banner on Memorial Hall much as you have. I too have nine days left. I'm experiencing some of the same feelings I had when I first graduated from college 40 years ago--some of the same feelings I've heard expressed by some seniors virtually every spring of the thirty years I've been a full time faculty member at this college that they wished that they might go to college all their life. To such students, I have often suggested that might well be arranged if they would but prepare to be college professors. While it would hardly be prudent for me to recommend that all of you should prepare to be professors--after all only a few of us retire each year--1 can with complete equanimity recommend that whatever you do and wherever you go, the liberal arts oriented examination and appreciation of everything knowable, thinkable, and believable continue to be an essential attribute of your life. In this sense, we can all continue the liberal arts adventure as long as God gives us life and breath. 81 And as we cultivate the spirit of imagination, continue the search for truth, remain steadfast in our hunger and thirst after righteousness, and love our neighbors as ourselves, we will ever be ready to "sacrifice what we are for what we might become" to paraphrase your class motto. Somehow, for all of us, the legacy of our liberal arts learning here at Augsburg at its best has been informed by some of the most cherished and enduring values in human history. The appreciation and cultivation of truth, beauty, and goodness; the struggle to achieve a social order where liberty, equality, and fraternity prevail; and the nurture of a spirit of faith, hope, and love are illustrative of those values. I cannot imagine a promising future where the pursuit and nurture of such values are neglected. Nor can I imagine the nurture of such values which does not involve a continuing interest in and study of the humanities, the social and behavioral sciences, the natural sciences, and their relevance for our professional growth and creative participation in history. A future where simplistic answers are sought for complex problems will lead nowhere, but to a massive Neo-Luddite nightmare of terror and chaos. To give ourselves to the ongoing disciplined pursuit of knowledge, truth, and human understanding; to keep alive our passion for justice and righteousness together with sensitivity and tenderness; to continue to deepen our understanding and appreciation of the fine arts and the best of our religious heritage; what better formula for making our lives count in a future where the quality of life itself is becoming more important than its quantitative production? What better way to "sacrifice what we are for what we might become!" 82 Part Seven: Life and Learning Beyond Retirement For many, retirement seems to mean a final ending of a tiresome and meaningless life of work and tedium. I had no such experience. I looked back upon my years at Augsburg with profound gratitude for the many joys and satisfactions that were associated with them. I could say without hesitation, that I never experienced a boring moment during all those years. Hence I did not look to retirement as a complete break with my past life and work. Rather, I looked forward to continued academic activities within the context of a less "work-oriented" life. Back to Scandinavia Opportunity for that kind of "retirement" opened up almost at once. During the early summer of 1979, Dr. Sonia Mykletun, the new Director of the Scandjnavian Urban Studies Term, sought my assistance in the coming fall term. The Higher Education Consortium for Urban Affairs, HECUA, seemed happy to oblige and provided the funds to support such an arrangement. In many ways, this was the "perfect" venture for our life beyond retirement. First of all, it made possible a re-visit to Scandinavia and its many charms that both Fran and I had enjoyed so much when we launched the first SUST program in 1973. It also gave us an opportunity to help strengthen the program we had begun, but was now under Sonia's excellent leadership. Perhaps most important for my next five year's academic work, it made possible my doing some very important research work preparatory for writing a book on urbanization and community building in Norway. Since on this SUST assignment the administrative direction of the program was in Sonia's hands, both Fran and I had more freedom to venture out on our own explorations. Arriving in Oslo in the early part of August and getting settled in an attractive apartment 83 of an Oslo University scholar who was on a study tour to Latin America, we found ourselves living a life more like that of visiting scholars with very flexible schedules. During the last part of August and the first part of September, we hosted visiting friends from the U.S.A. and traveled rather extensively in new regions of Norway. Fran's sister Ione and her husband Ralph joined us in a delightful train trip to Trondheim for a brief visit there. From there, we flew to Troms0, the amazing northern city some 270 miles north of the Artie Circle--a city of about 50,000 people. To our great surprise, we found a very dynamic urban area with all the positive rudiments of a good city--industry, commerce, schools, art centers, theaters, churches, and a growing modem university. Moreover, the weather was mild, obviously a legacy from the Gulf Stream. From Troms0 we flew to Bergan to enjoy a few delightful days on our second visit to that beautiful city. On our return to Oslo, we enjoyed a beautiful boat trip on the Sognefjord to Flam and from there took the train across the mountains to Oslo where we spent a few more days enjoying its sights and life. A few days later, we hosted Dr. Ron Duty and his wife Theresa--our friends from Minneapolis and Trinity Lutheran Congregation. When the SUST program began, both Fran and I became involved i,n its class activities and cooperated with Sonia in hosting some of the students at our apartment. Our most demanding work was directing the study tour to the capital cities of Stockholm, Helsinki, and Copenhagen. Besides meeting with city planners and educational leaders of central cities in Scandinavia, we also visited satellite towns such as Vallingby and Kista in Stockholm, Tapiola in Helsinki, and similar satellite towns in Copenhagen. Both Fran and I enjoyed these re-visits to Norden's capital cities, even as we shared some of the anxieties associated with such an assignment. After our return from these field trips, we found time beyond our official assignment to visit friends we had come to know during our stay in 1973 and to take additional pleasure trips in Norway. One of the most cherished trips was one with Gullik and Mari Kollandsrud to the province of Numedal. The Kollandsruds had become our closest friends in 1973. Gullik had been the virtual academic dean of the program during the first SUST venture. His wife Mari, also an architect, had hosted us frequently during that academic term. When Gullick learned that my mother's father had come from 84 Nummedal, he was determined to take us on a trip to find his birthplace. He too came from that province and the Kollandsrud family had established an attractive lake home in the area. We had a delightful trip with good weather and had occasion to visit Nummedal's capital city of Kongsberg. The Holtan home was accessible via a narrow winding road up and over high hills and through dense woods. My first reaction was that we were entering an area like the poverty regions of Appalachia. But upon arriving on the homestead, we soon learned that was far from reality. We found instead a large, stately old house together with a new modem house being built on the same site. When we knocked at the front door of the old house we were greeted by a congenial elderly man, who said that although his family name, Holtan, was the same as that of my grandfather, we were not related. To confirm that we were at the right place however, he took us into his library and took out a local history book, which clearly documented that this was my grandfather's birthplace. We were quickly disabused of our first impression of the area. The old house was completely modernized. Mr. Holtan and his family enjoyed their home and its library. They secured their income from work in Kongsberg. Their son and his young family were getting comfortable in their attractive new home. They, too, worked in Kongsberg. We learned first-hand some of the fruits of Norway's socio-political commitment to "equality and fraternity" as well as "liberty." After this visit, the Kollandsrud's took us to their vacation home where we spent a couple of days before returning to Oslo. Advanced Studies at U of Oslo and Research Work One of the highly attractive aspects of this second SUST venture was the opportunity it provided for my matriculation at the University of Oslo as a research scholar. This provided an excellent base for my research work, preparatory to the writing of a book on urbanization and community development in Norway. It gave me access to its library resources as well as to its faculty. Of particular importance to me was coming to know Dr. Tor Rasmussen - one of Scandinavia's leading urban scholars. Besides chairing the University's Department of 85 Geography, he had written several definitive books on urbanization and regional developments in modem Norway. They were of course written in Norwegian and hence not readily helpful for most of our SUST students. At first I thought our best bet was to translate his works into English for our students who were still inadequately prepared to read his Norwegian editions. Tor said no, and challenged me to write a new book on the subject and said he would be glad to assist me in any way that he could. Thus, my challenge was unmistakable. I needed to gather as much data and do as much research as possible before returning to the States and, of course, lay plans for how the research and writing might be continued in the future. He agreed to take responsibility of getting the book published in Norway and agreed to write a couple of chapters for it. Now that my academic assignment for the coming few years was clearly defined, I needed to make use of the remainder of our stay in Oslo to reflect on some of the distinctive attributes of life in modem Oslo. By 1979, the impact of Oslo's commitment to satellite town development as over against urban sprawl was clear. In one of Dr. Rasmussen's first presentation to our 1973 class, he noted that one of the major objectives of Scandinavian urban planning was to "prevent the Los Angeli~ation of Norden's precious environment." That meant developing an alternative to auto-oriented transportation. By 1979 we had experienced first-hand what that meant. Even as in 1973 we had lived comfortably for several months without a car, relying entirely on Oslo's electric trolleys, buses, and other light rail transit systems; by 1979 the relatively auto-free transit system was even further developed. When a new subway system under downtown Oslo was proposed, some objected saying, "we cannot afford it." The prevailing response was "we can't afford not to, we must save the city." This rejoinder clarified for me that even if Norwegians had a strong commitment to decentralized urbanization to prevent over-concentration in Oslo, they still had a strong commitment to their capital city and understood the importance of that central city for their nation's social, cultural, and historic future. I came to understand more clearly that we could learn much from Oslo and the other capital cities of Scandinavia about saving our central cities from the ravages of "autopia." 86 We learned much more about the meaning of Rasmussen's comments about "preventing the Los Angelization of their environment." Already a couple of chapters for my new book were taking shape in my mind. We also learned to appreciate the importance of the role of sub-villages in Oslo's modem metropolis. The city identifies 44 such villages--including both the new satellite towns as well as the historic villages within Oslo's central city. They symbolize Scandinavia's perception of the city as a community with many sub-community centers, rather than primarily an economic enterprise, which tends to be more characteristic of the USA. When the 1979 SUST term came to an end Fran and I flew back home via Boston and Portsmouth, where we spent a few pleasant days visiting our daughter Carol and her family before returning to Minneapolis for a joyous Christmas with our family and friends. The Book on Urbanization in Scandinavia When Tor Rasmussen and I agreed on a kind of joint venture in writing a new book on urbanization and community building in Norway, I suppose neither one ofus was fully aware of the complexity of the task. Collaboration across the Atlantic before the days of the Internet was not exactly convenient. However, both ofus agreed that such a book was needed for the students in the future who would be interested in such a subject. Fortunately, Tor seemed to be confident that I could prepare the manuscript here based on the research I had already done and the resource materials that I could bring with me from Scandinavia. With that confidence, I proceeded with the venture early in 1980. My zest for proceeding on this venture was further enhanced by an important conversation with Dr. Michael F. Metcalf, a professor of Scandinavian history at the University of Minnesota. He thought such a book ought to be written, and that he would be willing to write a chapter on some historical perspectives of Norwegian urban development. Perhaps the most fortuitous development in the venture was my lucky break in securing the help of the highly resourceful and competent Shirley J. Dahlen in preparing the manuscript, as well as in providing important editorial assistance. Every chapter was mailed to Tor Rasmussen for his review and suggested illustrative 87 additions. When all the chapters were completed, he supervised its publication by the Urbana Press in Oslo in 1985. Our Fourth Visit to Norway The publication of the book provided another opportunity for a visit to Norway. While the principal rationale for this trip was to collaborate with Professor Rasmussen about strategies for marketing the book, Fran and I agreed that this time the pursuit of our more personal interests would be paramount. Certainly, our most intriguing interest was to take a trip to the Lofoten Islands to see the birthplace of Fran's grandmother. This proved to be a most exciting venture. We had very little information about the place and were anxiously waiting for a response to one of our written requests for such information from the Vrerny Island where Fran's grandmother had spent her childhood. The day before we left, we received a response which confirmed that Fran had indeed some living relatives on the island and suggested whom we might contact. Such a contact would have to be made when we arrived in Norway. Also, a day or two before our departure, I had met with Liv Dahl at the Sons of Norway headquarters to make some inquiries about the Lofoten Islands. To our amazement, she had just received a mimeographed copy of an intriguing new book called Alt For Nor@..(All for Norway), which described the life and culture of a little "Mostad" neighborhood on Vrerny. As it turned out, this little place was exactly where Fran's grandmother had been born and spent her childhood. It even included a picture of what was likely her childhood home. The quest for a copy of that book was added to our zest for the visit to V rerny. Since this visit played such a central role in our 1984 trip in Norway, it seems appropriate to begin its review with a somewhat detailed account of our visit to Vreroy. After arriving by train in the historic city of Trondheim, we visited our relative and good friend Anne Gunn Laustad. From her home, we called Fran's third generation cousin, Rolf Kristensen, in V rerny. We introduced ourselves and told him of our intended visit. When we asked him to reserve a cabin for us, he protested, saying he had lots of room in his home and was eager to host us. On August lih we left Trondheim on the morning train for Bod0, the provincial capital of Nordland, about 100 88 • miles north of the Arctic Circle. While we had become accustomed to very pleasant journeys on Norway's exc_ellent trains, this daylong travel through valleys and over mountains on our way to Bod0 was a sheer delight. When we reached the Arctic Circle, the train stopped providing us with a brief moment of reflection about this important boundary. Our short stay at Bod0 made it possible for us to see first-hand a "new town," in this part of Norway. The Nazis had virtually demolished the old city as part of their "scorched earth" occupational policies. We had time to visit its beautiful harbor, its Nordland Capital, and its Cathedral church as well as to spend a few pleasant moments on its auto-free pedestrian downtown streets. We learned that this charming "new city" of more than 30,000 inhabitants some hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle had pleasant summer weather not unlike we had experienced in our own home in Minnesota, thanks of course to the impact of the Gulf Stream. We could readily understand why Norway regarded this city as one of the very important regional centers in its policies of decentralized urbanization. Toward evening of our one-day stay in Bod0, we took a cab to its airport and boarded a large helicopter for a brief 30-minute flight to VIBrny. We had decided on the helicopter since the more pleasant boat trip would take too much of our limited time. We were met at the helicopter port by R0lf and his brother Otto, whose genuine hospitality immediately made us feel warmly welcomed. Since Otto was ill, he was unable to participate in hosting our visit but, before we left, he gave us a copy of Alt For Nor~, for which we had searched in vain in both Oslo and Trondheim. The book had become a best seller and was out of print. Our gratitude to Otto will never be forgotten. We S?on learned that R0lf was one of the leading citizens ofVIBrny. His home was a stately five-bedroom house not far from his general merchandise establishment where he also played the role of a fish merchant. He also owned another home where his daughter and her family lived. He drove a relatively new van. When he used that van for taking us on hair-raising trips around the Saw-tooth Mountains, he reassured us that he had driven the school bus for the community for 50 years. 89 Since R0lf had been a widower for ten years, he had become well practiced in taking charge of hosting visitors. After our arrival at this home, he promptly treated us to coffee and some tasty sweets. After that, he took us on a tour of the house which besides the many bedrooms included a spacious living room and dining room and a modern kitchen. In his basement were another living room and a workshop where he made jewelry and polished fancy stones. He gave Fran a locket and some polished stones. In the living room, he kept his guitar and mandolin which he had played in his younger days when he also sang in a men's chorus. He said he had always been fond of music and that his relatives shared similar interests. During our evening conversations, he shared with us a good deal of family history and showed photos of the family from Grandma's time as well more contemporary members. R0lf also told us about the economic life of the V rerny community. Even as in Grandma's time, its main occupation was fishing. B11:t instead of the small boats that her father and older brothers had taken out in perilous fishing expeditions on the North Sea, fishing now was done from large, modem, highly technical boats. Rolf told about the high price their family had paid for the fishing ventures in Grandma's time. Both Grandma's brother and his two oldest ~ons had perished in the sea shortly after she had migrated to America. During our stay, R0lf took us on tours around the island, showing us Vrerny' s Gamle Kirke (Old Church) where Grandma had been baptized and confirmed. A wellkept cemetery and small hayfield surrounded the church. Because of its elevated location and long distance from the central part of the village, it was no longer Vrerny's main church. A newer church near the harbor and closer to the community's center had become the main village worship and community center. The well-kept old church stood as a symbolic representation of Norway' s commitment to historic preservation. R0lf also took us to a high point where we could see Mostad--the little neighborhood of Grandma's childhood home. He thought it too hazardous to take us by boat to that place because of the stormy sea. But from our vantage point, we could see that it was largely abandoned. Its harbor was too shallow and rocky for the large modem boats. As a fish merchant, Rolf naturally wanted us to see the operation of V rerny' s aquaculture establishment. Since this was our first observation of Norway's extensive 90 development of this industry, we were naturally highly impressed with, not only its technological aspects, but also with its meticulous cleanliness as well as its system of automatic feeding. During our daytime explorations of the harbor, we also got a view of the high-tech fish processing and packaging activities together with the marketing of the frozen fish via modem aircraft to distant places such as Manhattan, NY, etc. We also saw the village center with its health clinic, community-planning office, and other service centers plus the general merchandise establishments. Nearby was a modem elementary and secondary school with well-equipped playgrounds and athletic fields. Around the center were widely scattered and well kept, single-family homes, which featured a diversity of colors to adding to their charm. Though this remote community was located far out in the North Sea, some 100 miles north of the Arctic Circle, this was no "deserted village." We again learned first hand something about the consequences of Norway's humanitarian social policies relative to caring for all of its people throughout the entire country. Needless to say, we left V £Erny deeply grateful to Rolf for his hospitality and for a reassurance that livable and sustainable communities can flourish under highly diverse situations where good will, love of place, and cooperation prevail. Our only regret is that V £Erny is so far away that a return visit is unlikely. A redeeming feature is that through modem technology we can reach R0lfby telephone any time we wish. R0lf typically now calls us every Christmas. Trondheim Although this visit to V £Erny was perhaps the most exciting venture of this our fourth trip to Norway, we were also delighted with the other visits, with other friends and in other places. Our two-day stay in Trondheim was such a place. While we had visited it before, this time being graciously hosted by our friend and relative, Anne Gunn Laustad, we got a more personal appreciation of that beautiful, historic city. We could experience the charm of its auto-free central city ("ga-gater") pedestrian streets. We found time to re-visit the grand Nidaras Cathedral, and explore the new Hotel Royale on the banks of the beautiful Nidelven (river). We spent some time at the city's Folk Museum and saw some of the "new town" developments around the city. Perhaps 91 the high point (no pun intended) of this brief Trondheim visit was being treated to a delicious dinner in the revolving restaurant at the top of a new tower much like Needle Tower in Seattle, WA. Since Trondheim will be celebrating its 1000 years of history this summer, we know that the thousands of visitors from many lands will have the same opportunity to see its gracious charm as we did a decade or so earlier. Like all urban centers of Norway, Trondheim's charm is a reflection of Norway's positive affirmation of its cities as centers of civilization and culture. On our train ride back to Oslo, we stopped for a two day visit with our friends Ruth and Halvard Pedersen in Vinstra--a small city in the beautiful Gudrandsdal (valley). Besides a very pleasant visit with our friends, who own and operate a small general store and a municipal taxi service, we were shown a well-designed and highly livable small city community. Its downtown was surrounded by attractive residential neighborhoods with modem elementary and secondary schools. It also had a new community college, which was surrounded by a mixture of single-family homes for the younger generation and row-house town homes for an older population. This latter type housing was near a modem retirement home and nursing home comp_lex. Beautiful woods and well-groomed landscapes surrounded the housing. It was clearly evident that this city had found an attractive niche in Norway's over-all national policies of decentralized urbanization where the historic values of a more rural culture could be integrated with a life-style compatible with a high-tech, post-industrial urban culture. To TelemarkAgain Since both Fran and I had historic family linkages with Telemark, and since we had already made friends among our relatives there in our prior visits, we returned there again on this our last trip to Norway. This time, we were hosted by a young couple, Magne and Kari Gaara, and their little family. They lived in a beautiful new home on a small farm, which had become a major apple producing and marketing operation. Magne's elderly parents lived near by in an attractive old house, which had been the original farm home. When we visited them, we quickly learned that they were a book- 92 loving couple who cherished their extensive library. Our conversation quickly revealed that their books were more than merely cherished ornaments. From Gaara's, we also re-visited our relative, Johannes Steinsrud, a school principal, and sadly found him very ill. We were pleased to find the country's health and welfare system serving his needs with tenderness and good care. As it turned out, our brief visit was also our final farewell, since he died a few months later, leaving his house in Gvarv to the village to be used as a community "Kulturhus," a historic culture center. We also re-visited two other elderly relatives whom we had come to admire and respect--Bergit Aasheim and Anne Fjellheim. They too have since passed away. While we are saddened by the passing of these dear friends and relatives, we are glad that on this trip to Telemark we came to know more of our younger relatives in Telemark. The Gaaras introduced us to several of Kari's family named Schia. They lived in a neighborhood called "Sauherad," and their prosperous farm homes were located near the Sauherad church where my father was confirmed. We of course were pleased that one of the Schias could give us a tour of that church. One historically fascinating aspect about our visit to this church and its surroundings was the presence of small historic homes near by. They stand as a symbolic reflection of a long past so dramatically described in Sigrid Undset's novel, Kristin Lavransdatter. Our Final Days in Oslo When we returned to Oslo, we had scarcely 2 weeks left of this our fourth trip to Norway. Every day seemed filled with activities. Our friends Olav and Anne Marie Odegaard took us for a 70-mile tour around some of the satellite towns that had been developed by the Oslo Housing and Savings Bank Cooperatives since the late 50s. Since Olav had for many years been that organization's environmental architect, he was well informed about their developments. This was our last overview of some of what might now be called the "Transit Villages" of modem Oslo. After the tour, we enjoyed an evening dinner at the Odegaard home. The following Sunday, after a relaxing morning we took the trolley to the beautiful Holmenkollen area around the famous ski jump to re-explore that part of 93 Oslo. The rest of the day was spent strolling the familiar haunts around Josefinesgate where we had lived in 1979. On Monday, we had been asked by Astrid Torud to meet with her new SUST class to tell them the story of how that program had begun. It seemed impossible that that was already 15 years in the past. I think I shared Fran's observation that we "almost wished that we were in charge again." Later that day, we went to downtown Oslo to the Sons of Norway headquarters to leave them some copies of our new book. The following day I had another meeting with the Summer School of the University of Oslo regarding use of our book for the coming SUST sessions. Fran went to Norway's Government Archives near by to explore more of her grandmother's life in the Oslo region before emigrating to America. In the evening, we took the train to Mari and Gullik Kollandsrud's home for a delightful evening with those friends who had meant so much to us in all our prior stays in Oslo. The following Wednesday, Odegaard took us to the headquarters of the Oslo Housing and Savings Bank for a luncheon with its president, Mr. Maland. After lunch, we visited "Silket0y," one of OBOS's newest developments within Oslo, which was a sample of its new revitalization programs. In the evening, the Odegaards took us out to a grand dinner in one of Oslo's most elegant downtown restaurants. The next couple of days were spent preparing for and presenting a radio hour conversation with Odegaard about my work with the SUST program and the new book, Urbanization and Community Building in Norway. He also queried me on my general impressions of modem Norway. Needless to say, my handling of the Norwegian language was given a rather anxious test. He gave us a tape of the conversation for a reminder of the event. During the last few days, we spent an evening with Sveinung Fl6ten, a former Augsburg student from Norway, who had now become a practicing attorney in Oslo. Another evening was spent at the Dr. Kjetil Flaten's Bygdoy home. Kjetil was director of the Oslo University Summer School during our work with the SUST program in 1979. We also spent an evening with Fran's Oslo relatives, the Dale family, after a daylong visit to the Hadeland Glass Factory and its beautiful surroundings. 94 The Sunday before our departure for America, we took our last long hike around the beautiful "Sognsvatn" on the edge of Oslo's famous Nordmarka (Forest). That evening we had our last meeting with Professor Rasmussen to make some final decisions about the marketing of our book. Again, this meeting was combined with a pleasant dinner and conversation. On Tuesday morning of September 3rd, we took to the air for our flight back home to Minneapolis. Continuity and Change Beyond Retirement The preceding account of our last trip to Norway reflects both continuity and change in our life beyond retirement. The most obvious change was the greater freedom we had to pursue our more family-oriented and personal interests. But the fact that the trip itself was occasioned by issues related to marketing a new book, just as obviously reflects academic continuity beyond retirement. For one who was never bored with academic life, this was a source of great gratitude. Upon our return home, we found operative the same dynamics of continuity and change. We continued to have more flexibility in the use of time and leisure. But because in our pre-retirement life we had combined our academic and professional pursuits with community act,ion and church involvement, continuing engagement in such activities became an essential part of our life. Our Life With Trinity The most compelling arena for our continuing such community engagement was the life and work of Trinity Lutheran Congregation. Throughout its entire history, the life of Augsburg and Trinity had been intricately inter-related. Some of us as students and later as faculty members of the college had found membership in Trinity both an appropriate and satisfying extension of our college life. By the decade of the 60s, however, such membership had become more than merely "appropriate and satisfying." It had become for some of us both intellectually and morally compelling. Both the college and the congregation had committed themselves to staying in the heart of the city and emerging metropolis--spurning the many overtures to move out to the periphery and/or suburbia. In a sense both institutions had come to share a 95 common fate of doing their distinctive work in the same urban arena, even if much changed, as they had done throughout their history. Both had come to share a common challenge of responding creatively to what by now had been called an "urban crisis," compounded by a crisis in race relations, with all their implications. For Trinity, the decision to stay had become particularly traumatic when the builders of freeways across America had decided that one such "autobahn" would cut right through the heart of its community and "necessarily" tear down its cathedral church and parish house. The complex drama of Trinity's response to this devastation of its life's center will inevitably become a major chapter in its long history. Here, we can only note some of the bits and pieces of that drama. First of all, what might it do about a new center for its work and worship? The decision was made not to rebuild a large sanctuary on a $14.00 per square foot of urban land, but rather to rent space from other churches in the area such as the Riverside Presbyterian Church, then later from Our Lady of Perpetual Help Catholic Church, and finally from Augsburg's worship and educational facilities in the college's Foss Center. Perhaps the most compelling challenge was to re-examine the nature of its ministry in relation to the rapidly changing social and cultural character of its community. This meant both a careful study of the Cedar-Riverside community itself, as well as a re-examination of both the essence and motifs of its ministry to such a community. To become a participant in such a drama was both a privilege and a challenge, both an inspiration and a joy. We came to experience membership and participation in the congregation as a virtual community of shared hopes and dreams of nurturing a good life based on the best of our Judeo-Christian heritage. Participatory Roles in Trinity's Life In a sense, there was considerable continuity between my past academic activities and my participatory roles in Trinity's life. One of Trinity's initial responses to the crises of the sixties was to lead in the development of Cedar-Riverside Area Council to promote a sense of community and to prepare for its future development and revitalization. I became a board member of that Council representing the Augsburg 96 College faculty. I was also asked to chair its Housing Committee and to write a vision statement describing its housing and community goals for the area. ~ When Trinity became involved in a church-sponsored Twin Cities Campus Area Lutheran Study in the miEi sixties, I was asked to direct that study and, with the help of other Augsburg staff, conducted a systematic demographic analysis of every census tract in each of the campus area communities. The final 50-page document included an important demographic profile of the Cedar-Riverside Community. When Trinity created a new Evangelism and Social Action Committee to plan for a series of speakers and programs examining its future motifs and ministries, I was asked to be its chairman. I continued to chair that committee from 1965 to 1970. When our friend and cherished leader of Trinity's Council, Professor George Michaelsen, had completed his two terms as its president, I was chosen his successor and served as Trinity's president for the first six years of the 1970s. These were years of momentous changes in the community, calling for innovative congregational responses. One such innovation was the creation of a Trinity Neighborhood Research and Development Corporation, which later merged with a Seward area group to form the Seward West Redesign Corporation which became an extensive developer of housing and community amenities in that area. It was my privilege to cooperate with such members of our congregation as Ron Duty, Dave Raymond, Dick Blakely, Paul Steen, and others in this development. Perhaps the most venturesome development during the 70s was Trinity's launching of a drive to establish a Riverside Center on Block 185, which the Congregation had acquired by that time. Gloria and George Nelson together with other members of Trinity's Council were the leaders in that promising venture. During the 80s, I was chosen to chair the Congregation's Stewardship Committee. That committee too reflected Trinity's innovative responses to new challenges. It went beyond the traditional role of raising money for the church and husbanding such monetary resources; it developed a concept of stewardship of place, community, and environment as essential ingredients of its responsibility. Out of this was created the Task Force on Block 185 to conduct a systematic study of the best possible use of that block for both Trinity Congregation and the 97 community. Out of that committee, we explored many options and produced many papers with proposed possibilities. By 1985, a decision was made to establish a · Planning Team for finding a workable development of the block and the best possible developer for carrying it out. As chairman of that Planning Team, together with such essential members as Nancy Homans, a professional city planner and energetic member of our congregation; Brian Hanson, an invaluable architect; and others, I became deeply involved in more meetings with more potential developers and other professionals than I could ever imagine I would after retirement. What has been so gratifying about these involvements in Trinity's life beyond our retirement has been the fact that Fran also has been vitally involved. As the innovator and continued leader of Trinity's quilters, who have produced some 3000 quilts for world relief, and as an active participant in many other aspects of Trinity's life, she shares my gratitude for this Congregation's contribution to our life. Among all these experiences in Trinity's life, we remember with special admiration and gratitude the sensitive and creative leadership of our pastor, Sheldon Torgerson. He was open to new options for ministry in a dramatically changed situation. I was reminded of James Russell Lowell's lines from his The Present Crisis: "new occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth ... " From the preceding account of our life and work with Trinity, one can understand why both Fran and I have sensed a natural affinity between our postretirement life and work at Trinity. I think this helps to make clear why fifteen years after retirement I would write a document entitled Trinity Lutheran Congregation's Response to the Urban Crisis and its Changing Cedar-Riverside Community. In the fall of 1991 we celebrated the consummation of all our work and dreams for Block 185 and Trinity's commitment to playing a leading role in the revitalization of a central part of the Cedar Riverside community as a new housing development took shape. Needless to say, there was much shared joy and gratitude. When in 1992 Fran and I moved into one of the 35 new apartments, we not only shared in the fruits of Trinity's dreams, we also became again full time residents of and participants in the life of this inner city community. It was very gratifying for all ofus that this development of 35 apartments and 17 townhouses around an attractive courtyard was honored by the 98 Minneapolis Environmental Commission as one of the most beautiful and creative neighborhood revitalization projects in the city. A Note of Gratitude to Augsburg Before concluding these reflections on the continuity and change in our life after retirement, I want to make some comments on our continued relations with the Augsburg community. We shall never forget the many ways we have been invited to significant college events and even to participate in various academic and other college related activities. We have been made to feel like continuing members of the college community. We have been especially grateful to the members and chairpersons of the sociology and social work faculties for the many ways they have made us feel as if we continue to be members of their departments. Even though we have no intention or expectation of participating in their departmental deliberations or decisions, we have greatly appreciated being treated as fraternal friends and community peers. We were overwhelmed by the special honors the HECUA related academic community showed us on that organization's celebration of its 25 th anniversary, as well as similar events celebrating the 50th anniversary of the development of Augsburg's Department of Sociology. As I reflect on these and related associations with Augsburg, I remember with special gratitude the many academic colleagues for their friendship and cooperation in our life and work together. I think especially of all those who participated in the development of the sociology major and its related social work education, the social science research center, and the trans-disciplinary metro-urban studies program. I think of Dr. Gordon Nelson's creative helpfulness in developing the general education course in The Human Community and the Modem Metropolis; of Dr. Robert Clyde and his leadership in developing our Social Science Research Program both within the college and throughout the metropolis; of people like Dr. Paul Steen and Dr. Eddy Herzberg for developing a vital social work education program; and of all the other members of our sociology department. I have been especially grateful to Dr. Diane Pike who has led the department in recent years for the ways in which she has extended to me the privilege of participating in its social activities. 99 I cannot refrain from some special comments about how deeply grateful I am for Dr. Gary Hesser's life and work at the college. I have always marveled at how fortunate we were to find him as my replacement when I retired. Besides his friendly and cooperative spirit, he not only seemed to clearly understand what our department had developed, he also seemed to regard it with respect. He immediately proceeded to build upon our programs and played a leading role in developing a nationally recognized higher education program for metro-urban life. Both Fran and I will always cherish the continued friendship and association with Gary and with his highly talented wife, Nancy Homans. To all these friends and colleagues and the many others I could also mention, many, many thanks for everything! 100 Part Eight: The Heart of My Life Introduction Throughout the preceding account of my life, there have been frequent references to particular persons and situations that in special ways enriched my life. For all those I continue to be grateful. But I have left to the last, some comments about the most important people in my life--my immediate family. When I reflect upon the pervasive forces of family disorganization in our time, I can only say how grateful I am for all the ways in which my family has been a constant source of companionship and shared hopes and dreams for the lives of each of us and for our family as a unit. Some Notes on our Family's Beginnings When in my sociology classes we would be studying comparative f~mily systems, the question of the best method of mate selection would always be of special interest. For the sake of enlivening the class discussion, I would frequently defend the system that was still in practice in other parts of the world where family elders would select mates for their children. I would somewhat flippantly argue that the old song about "love and marriage, like a horse and carriage" naturally going together was fraught with all kinds of hazards. It really meant, "falling in love, losing your mind and then making the most important decision of your life." But no such rational, sociological judgments were at work in my finding my life's mate, Fran. It all began on that "enchanted evening" when we first met and went for a pleasant summer evening walk in Riverside Park, which had become a favorite playground and meeting place for Augsburg students and Fairview nursing students. It nearly did not happen. When my two friends Harold Haugland and Adrian Tinderholt asked me to join them for an evening party with some nursing student friends, I protested, saying I had too much work to do--alluding to some unfinished papers for my college 101 studies. I finally yielded to my friends' entreaties, joined the party, and for the first time met my future life's mate, Fran. Somehow, in our walk in the park that night it seems we experienced a mutual attraction for each other that in the ensuing months led to a deepening affection for each other much as the popular romantic dramas describe. But upon further reflection, both Fran and I came to know that the first moment's enchantment was not the sole arbiter of our continued love and respect for each other. During the following months we discovered the many ways our separate social geographies contained many similarities. We had both grown up in similar small-town centered rural communities in western Minnesota and internalized many of the values of that region. We had both come to the city to pursue education and training for future vocational roles in modem life. We shared similar interests in music and song. I remember with fondness the many evenings we would meet at Fran's residence home where she would play the piano, as we would join in singing favorite popular songs and well-known hymns. The tennis courts and skating rink at Riverside Park provided an excellent setting for our outdoor recreation. The mere fact that my residence was but a block away from Fairview and the Park facilitated relatively spontaneous get-togethers. Even our politics were quite similar. Even though I had a Republican cousin, Theodore Christianson, who had become governor of Minnesota in the twentfos, the Great Depression had made a Farmer-Laborite out of me. When Fran's second cousin, Elmer Benson had entered the political race for governor of Minnesota, we were both supporters of the Farmer-Labor Party and its political orientations. Our shared friends from both Augsburg students and Fairview nurses contributed to our growing mutual attractions. We both cherish memories of our weekend picnics and other activities with them. By the time Fran had completed her nursing degree and been hired as a surgery nurse at Fairview, and I had graduated from Augsburg and become history instructor at the college while pursuing a masters degree in history at the University of Minnesota, we agreed to marry and establish a home in the vicinity of both Augsburg and Fairview. As I write this, it was exactly 58 years ago yesterday--June 10, 1939--that we were married at the Appleton Lutheran Church on a very, very rainy day. It was an event 102 that set the stage for our life together with much meaning for both of us. While neither of us sought the approval of our parents or other elders, I think such support could be confidently assumed. 2019 South Seventh Street- Our First Home We had incredibly good luck in finding a place to live during the first years of our marriage--an upper duplex scarcely a block from Augsburg's main building and only a few blocks from Fairview was for rent at $27.00 a month. It was a well-maintained apartment with hardwood floors, two bedrooms, a living room and kitchen, plus a small study. It was a pleasant place to host our friends and relax after our days of work and study. Lacking both a refrigerator and laundry, we had pleasant regular visits from the "ice man" and "laundry man" who in many ways became our friends. For two years we lived in this home. They were very enjoyable as well as busy years. Fran's work at Fairview was critically important for our family budget. She had regular hours plus occasional emergency calls at night; whenever we heard the ambulance siren we could expect a phone call for Fran to come to the hospital. Besides my teaching assignment, I would work some evenings and Saturdays at Sears Roebuck to supplement our income. The rest of my time was devoted to graduate study and preparing my research strategies for my master's thesis. We found the Cedar-Riverside community a good place to live. We enjoyed shopping on Cedar A venue and participating in the life of that historic "main street" of the area. Our involvement in the life of the Augsburg community and our continued activities with our Fairview friends continued as central foci of our socio-cultural life. One ominous world development haunted our otherwise serene and happy life-the deeply disturbing developments in Europe. Like many others, we listened intently to William Shirer's dramatic radio reports of the rise of Nazism and Hitler's frightening adventures in Europe. As I have alluded to earlier, I had a long interest in the "peace movement" and had become a part of an Augsburg student and faculty group deeply concerned about issues of war and peace and their implications for appropriate humanitarian and Christian responses to them. 103 Our Encounter with the Peace Movement Fran shared similar sentiments and, as the European crisis deepened, more of our time and attention became absorbed in reflections about the appropriate response of the peace movement. Our home became a convenient gathering place for students and others who shared our concerns. In a sense, Fran and I had the privilege of serving as hosts to the most sensitive and caring people we had ever known. It was both appropriate and inevitable that we should share our concerns with the larger "peace movement" in our Twin City Community. One of the most significant events sponsored by some of the churches in the area was a visit by the world leader of the Fellowship of Reconciliation, Muriel Lester. Several ofus heard her message and were deeply moved. Coming from Europe, she understood the depth of the impending crisis. At the same time, because of her commitment to the Judeo Christian legacies regarding peace and justice, she spoke boldly of the challenges of a non-violent response to the crisis. In response to Muriel Lester's challenge, Fran and I and several others of our friends became active in a local interdenominational chapter of the Fellowship of Reconciliation. One of that group was our friend Trevor Sandness. Trevor was a student of the University of Minnesota pursuing a graduate degree in English literature and related studies. He had long been active in Lutheran youth work and was troubled by what he perceived to be rather insensitive posture toward issues of peace justice. He was an able and vigorous personality and succeeded in launching a Lutheran Peace Fellowship, which would complement the Fellowship of Reconciliation. Fran and I participated in that development, and I suppose it can be said that our home became the place of that organization's beginning. With Trevor's vigorous, sensitive, and informed leadership the Lutheran Peace Fellowship soon attracted to its membership several distinguished faculty from our Lutheran colleges as well as from some prominent leaders of the Lutheran Church in this country. Through our participation in the local Fellowship of Reconciliation, Fran and I came to know people from a wider ecumenical 104 circle, including representatives from such "peace churches" as the Quakers, the Church of the Brethren, Mennonites, and the Amish. In retrospect, I think it can be said that through our participation in the Peace Movement, our experience of sharing similar concerns and passions about some major issues of life contributed much to our sense of bonding during those early years of marriage. Similarly, our expanding relations with people and programs of the larger metropolitan community enriched our common life. Family Life on a Cooperative Farm Community Our most intimate friends, however, were Elliot and Eleanor Marston of the Episcopal Church. As I have already described in an earlier chapter, this led to our launching with them a cooperative farm venture for approximately five years on Bass Lake Road in what was then an essentially rural township. I shall not repeat what I have already said about that venture, except to comment on Fran's important role. As I have frequently alluded to in our other ventures, she entered into the life and work with characteristic zest and vitality. In many ways, she became the leading hostess for its ever-increasing population. I think it fa,ir to say that such a venture was more challenging for her and Eleanor as women, than for Elliot and me as men. But throughout all the dramatic developments at that peace-oriented community venture, Fran's involvement kept intact our own family-oriented life. We joined the local Elim Lutheran Congregation in Robbinsdale and made friends with members of that sub-community. We continued to keep in touch with our friends at Augsburg and Fairview and made important visits to our respective families in western Minnesota. October 12, 1943 By the time our first daughter, Carol, was born on Columbus Day in 1943, we were both delighted with that addition to our family. Fran proved to be a good mother, and I did my best to play a new role as a supportive father. Needless to say, our lives were both changed and enriched. I shall never forget those early days when I would watch over the little baby in her crib and marvel at the miracle of new life. While I was 105 never good at vocal prayer, I said many silent prayers that the little girl's life would be both joyous and creative. I did the same over every one of the other three babies that became a part of our family. As Carol grew to be a little girl who could both walk and talk, I was thrilled to come in the house from my work with our expanding dairy and poultry and be enthusiastically welcomed by her. She had come to like raisins in a cup, and, as I entered the house, she would frequently meet me with a cup and delightfully ask me for "raisin in the cup." Our little family bonded from the very start, and when I took the new assignment as educational director of an association of cooperatives in Southeastern Minnesota, I remember well how hard it was to leave both Carol and Fran and be away from them for the many months that it took to find a new home for us in Lanesboro. During those months, Fran and Carol had moved to live with Fran's parents near Appleton. By the time they could join me in Lanesboro, little Carol no longer recognized me when we first met. But when she did, she leaped into my lap and gave me the hug I shall never forget. Often when I left our new little home in Lanesboro for my many assignments to other places, Carol would often cling to me as though she did not want to lose me again. As I reflect upon all the family disruption that has become yharacteristic of our time, I think of the many children who must go through deep heartaches, as they are separated from their parents for years and years. Our Family Life in Lanesboro Although our little house in Lanesboro left much to be desired and we missed our friends from the city, we were glad to be together again. Our next-door neighbors were friendly--most especially the Ask family. From them we secured our water supply while waiting for the plumbers to complete the connections with the municipal water system. Since Mr. Ask was also one of Lanesboro' s leading grocers, we soon found that his friendliness and helpfulness went beyond simple neighborliness. Carol too quickly adapted to the neighborhood, finding congenial playmates. As for Fran and me, our circle of new friends were, for the most part, associated with the local cooperative or professionals working with the Soil Conservation Service and other farm organizations. Francis Lair, the manager of the local cooperative, was especially 106 friendly. He and my brother, Ludolph, had become good friends and would often join us for dinners and other occasions. Through them we soon came to know other people associated with the local co-op. Through my community relations work with the Soil Conservation Service, we came to know one of its workers, Alf Jorgenson and his wife Lillian with whom we soon became good friends. Since they too had found difficulties in finding adequate housing, we soon began thinking about building a duplex and adding an adjoining 2-car garage. Those plans were soon altered when Ludolph met Alfs sister Alpha, who had come to Lanesboro for a visit from Rochester where she worked in the Mayo medical complex. After a brief romance, they decided to marry and then joined us in planning our building venture. The two-car garage idea was changed to planning for an attached apartment. Post-war shortages in building materials and heating systems, coupled with difficulties in securing skilled labor, made our venture rather frenzied. But after several months of harried activities, the unit was completed and for the few months before Fran and I and our little family moved back to Minneapolis, our three families enjoyed our new cooperative habitat. March 25, 1946 Several months before these building developments were completed, another important development in our family took place on March 25 , 1946. That was the day our second daughter, Ruth Ann, was born. It was a beautiful summer-like day. Fran's mother came to our house a few days earlier to care for Carol and help Fran. On this day, I took Fran to the Lanesboro Hospital, a large Victorian home that had been transformed into a medical facility, and sat in one of its stairways waiting for the good news. Everything went well and the following months our life in Lanesboro became more exciting and enjoyable, as well as a bit traumatic--traumatic because, for some strange circumstance, Ruth Ann one day swallowed a pin. For several days with regular visits to our family doctor, we watched the pin's internal journey and were greatly relieved when it was expelled from her body without mishap. 107 Extra-Curricular Activities in Lanesboro Even though the nature of my work and the complexities of our home building activities demanded much of our time and attention, we did find opportunities for some family life within the context of Lanesboro and its surrounding life as habitat. We joined the local Lutheran Congregation and came to know its colorful pastor, Reverend Nestande. He, of course, baptized Ruth Ann. We participated in many socially oriented co-op meetings, visited some striking "prairie" and "valley" churches, and found enjoyment in seeing the beautiful landscape variations in the region. We enjoyed hosting our family and friends and showing them the distinctive prairie and valley neighborhoods. I remember well the pleasure of taking my father to visit the Highland Prairie Church and its colorful Scandinavian Lutheran parish. One of its residents was a rather prominent sculptor from Telemark whom we visited. Shortly before we left Lanesboro we were hosted at a farewell party at the home of one of our friends in town; we were amazed at the turnout. We were of course delighted to learn that our fondness for our newfound friends in Southeastern Minnesota was apparently reciprocal. The First Decade as a Full-time Faculty Member at Augsburg College Although we had genuinely enjoyed our life and work in Lanesboro, we finally decided that I needed to return to Minneapolis to complete my graduate studies. The letter I received from Dr. Bernhard Christensen inviting me to re-join the Augsburg faculty arrived just as I began thinking about a return. Naturally, we were elated by this tum of events. To facilitate our return to Augsburg, the college had secured an old house on gth Street between 24 th and 25 th Avenues about four blocks east of the campus center. Its location was socially congenial for our young and growing family. Between our house and the campus was a pleasant public park with appropriate play equipment for children and other amenities for grown-ups. Next to the park was a small but efficient neighborhood grocery store. Since many of Augsburg's faculty and staff lived within the neighborhood our social interaction with them and their families gave us a sense of being part of a cohesive community. 108 A faculty colleague, Leland Sateren, and his family lived across the street from our house. His wife, Eldora, and Fran quickly became good friends and since they both had two youngsters about the same age, our families shared much in common. The neighborhood Monroe Elementary School was only about three blocks from our house. Terry, the oldest Sateren boy, and our daughter Carol began their public education in that neighborhood school. Trinity Lutheran Congregation with its Cathedral Church and parish house was also within walking distance. Partly because of its long historic identity with Augsburg College, we, like other members of its faculty and staff in the area, became members. Fairview Hospital also was scarcely three blocks away. Thus it could be said, that our young family now lived in what would be regarded a good cohesive inner-city community that contained virtually all the basic elements of community life. A less positive picture must be drawn about our housing situation. Our home was an old house, which had been converted into a very modest 2-story duplex. We occupied the first floor, which contained an old kitchen, two small bedrooms and a bath, plus a living room and front porch. There was a small room off from the stairway leading to the upstairs, which had been improvised as a tiny bedroom. This, unhappily, became our young daughter Carol's bedroom, which, we discovered later, filled her with fear and thoughts that she had been abandoned by the family. Our baby, Ruth Ann, slept in the tiny bedroom next to the bathroom, and Fran and I slept in a bit larger bedroom, which could hardly be called the "master bedroom." In a sense it can be said, that we shared a fate common among young families living in old neighborhoods in inner city America; at the very time their young families should have the most spacious and accommodating homes, they have to contend with precisely the opposite. However, Fran was a resourceful young mother and homemaker. While I am certain she must have felt many frustrations, she quickly managed to make our very modest dwelling into a congenial household. One of its advantages was its proximity to the college. On many occasions, I would invite students from some of my special academic ventures to the house for coffee and conversation. They obviously came to like Fran and find special joy in playing with our youngsters. 109 July 20, 1949 On the twentieth of July 1949 our third daughter, Linnea Kay, was born. Fran's oldest sister, Evelyn from Albert Lea, kindly came to help Fran before and after her birth. It was a very hot July, but both Fran and Linnea came through their shared drama with "flying colors." At this point both Fran and I decided that we desperately needed a more adequate home for our growing family, and through the assistance of one of our Augsburg faculty colleagues who had begun a real estate business, we bought a threebedroom home at 3020- 42 nd Avenue South. During the latter part of the summer, Fran's father came to help me build a garage for that home. While I had always thought very highly of Grandpa Anderson, I learned much more about him and came to regard him as a highly resourceful person and craftsman from this experience. He became the "builder of the garage" and I his helper. We also learned more about his varied interests, including his fascination with baseball. I cherish memories of taking Grandpa to the Nicollet Ball Park to see the Millers in action. A New Home in the Cooper School Neighborhood ' Two major considerations guided our search for an appropriate home for our growing young family. Perhaps the most compelling was an adequate house. The second concern was a good neighborhood school within walking distance from our new home. Our new residence met both considerations. Our first single family home was a joy for all ofus. The upstairs had three bedrooms and a bath. The downstairs had a pleasant front porch and an entrance hall leading to a fairly spacious living room and dining room complex. Next to the dining room was a fairly adequate kitchen, which in turn was linked to a back hall and entrance. While at first the home was heated by a coal-burning furnace in the basement, which also had space for the family laundry, we early converted the coal-burning furnace to one containing a gas-burning unit. This made it possible for me to convert the fairly large coal bin into a reasonably adequate study for a young college teacher and university graduate student. The back yard provided space for a small garden and a clothesline, which were especially treasured by Fran. 110 The Cooper neighborhood elementary school met all our hopes and expectations. Both Carol and Ruth Ann responded well to its good teachers and met good friends. Through our participation in parent-teachers meetings, Fran and I came to know neighbors who like us were interested in education. Convenient neighborhood shopping centers as well as a health clinic were within two blocks from our home. Since my work at the college and my graduate studies at the university kept me away from home a good deal, these neighborhood amenities were very important for Fran and the family. Fran became the essential homemaker and as usual discharged those duties with tenderness and efficiency. She found much good company and pleasure from a very friendly next-door neighbor, Kay Rislov, who also had a daughter Carol's age. For me, the weekends at this home were especially enjoyable and meaningful. Our morning and evening meals became more leisurely and festive--with lively family chatter about all that had been happening during the week. As usual, I played the role of a relatively quiet listener. Of course, the other members of the family might challenge this. Both Fran and I were pleased that the girls were all interested in books, music, and singing. All of these added much to our evening family life. July 25, 1953 Fran's household and family care responsibility was increased when our fourth daughter, Janice Marie, was born. Fortunately, Fran's mother came to help her in the early days during and after her birth on July 25, 1953. While it is quite possible that the new baby sister was at first received with mixed feelings by her sisters, I think it can be said that Janice soon came to be cherished by all of us. Certainly Fran and I learned the profound mystery that love generously shared grows rather than diminishes. When I was often asked if I had not hoped for a boy rather than another girl, I could honestly say that the thought never entered my mind. Of course the relations between the girls were not all "peaches and cream." There were times when resentments and conflict between them would cause concern for both Father and Mother. But we assumed that even if these tensions were troublesome, they were to be expected and in time would diminish. 111 Our New Home on Standish Avenue When Carol reached the age when she would soon enter Junior High School, we began to think we should find a home where all levels of public education could be accessible within walking distance. We moved into a stucco house at 4036 Standish Avenue. The Standish elementary school was but a block away, and both the Folwell Junior and Roosevelt Senior high schools were also within walking distance. This new home also had the advantage of more adequate space for our growing family--with an upstairs that would provide bedroom and bath space for the three older children and the first floor contained two bedrooms and a bath plus a fairly spacious living room, dining room, and kitchen. A large entrance hall became our music room. The fairly large basement was upgraded to become a much-used family room and its large coal room was converted into another study, where over the years I spent much time with my academic work and finally pounded out my Ph.D. dissertation. In many ways, the ten years we lived on Standish Avenue were perhaps the most important for our family's bonding. We all enjoyed our new home. It provided adequate space for both festive family events as well as considerable individual privacy. Our children soon found close friends nearby. A small but vital village center was but two-three blocks away and an excellent neighborhood grocery but a block and a half from our house. The schools played an important role in our family life. Both Fran and I were naturally pleased that all our daughters did well in their studies and participated creatively in extra-curricular activities. Fran and I sought to do our part as participants in PTA activities and other school events. A branch of the Minneapolis Public Library near the senior high school became a pleasant family service center. While we were surely not fully aware of all that was going on in the schools and of all our children's involvement is in them, there was much that we shared. I remember with special delight the day Linnea came home with a new book from Standish school and exclaimed with delight " I can read Daddy" as she climbed into my lap and proceeded to read. I think something like that happened with all the girls. Both Fran and I naturally enjoyed the many special musical events that Ruth Ann and Carol participated in at Roosevelt High School including the High School Chorus 112 and the special musical group called the Grenadiers. Perhaps one of the most exciting and creative musical experiences shared by all our daughters were their piano lessons with Sam Michaelsen. Besides being an excellent teacher, Sam was a gracious and delightful person. I think all ofus cherish memories of his coming to our Standish home to give those piano lessons and stimulate our daughters' interest in music. Even though our linkages with the Anderson and Torstenson families were somewhat limited by the sheer distance separating us, our regular Christmas and summer trips to visit them were always celebratory family events. This was especially true of our Christmas time trips. The planning and packaging of all the gifts and clothing that needed to be packed into the trunk of the family Oldsmobile became a regular ritual. Never to be forgotten was the packing of the crinoline petticoats that had become fashionable for girls of Carol and Ruth Ann's age, as well as the bed pillows for each, and one particular Christmas the new life-size baby dolls which three of the girls insisted on bringing along with us. The singing of Christmas carols and other popular tunes along the way to the grandparents became traditional. And of course, spending Christmas Eve at Grandma and Grandpa Anderson's house and the following evening with the Torstenson family were always high points of the year. On such occasions, our "nuclear family" experienced some of treasures that can come from linkages with an "extended family." Much as we cherished those Christmas festivities with the extended family, we always made Christmas a special season within our nuclear family. This was expedited by the holiday vacations built into both Augsburg's calendar as well as those of the public schools. Thus, the whole family could participate in the trimming of the Christmas tree, while one of us might read from Charles Dickens' Christmas Carol. We could also share in decorating the rest of the house, do the shopping for Christmas presents, and all the other kinds of pre-Christmas preparations. All these Christmas activities had special meaning for me since the very nature of my work at the college plus my graduate studies at the university during the rest of the year kept me away from many family activities. Perhaps this was one of the negatives of my work during those years. This was also compounded by the fact that the rest of the family had little opportunity to know much about my work. This was acutely 113 dramatized one day by Linnea's asking what kind of work I was in. I of course told her that I was a teacher. To which she replied that I could not be a teacher because I was a man. All her teachers obviously were women. She knew little about our college situation, but obviously a lot about the status of women in the 1950s. From 1958 to 1968 When I finally completed my postgraduate work and received my Ph.D., new opportunities for joint family ventures emerged. Summer became particularly freer for family activities. Among the most exciting summer ventures were our long trips coordinated with the annual National Convention of the American Sociological Society. The first such trip was planned in connection with the 1958 Convention in Seattle, Washington. Since my sister Marie and her family had by then established their home and Bayside Motel venture on the pacific coast in Nehalem, Oregon, we decided to combine a visit with them with our trip to Seattle. For all of us that was our first trip across the prairies of the Dakotas and Montana, as well as our first encounter with the Rocky Mountains and the beauties of the Glacier National Park. Needless to say all of us shared the joys of such new experiences, even if Carol and Ruth Anne pretended to be a bit too "sophisticated" to be excited about every new mountain scene that came along. All of us enjoyed our visit with Marie and her family at Nehalem and seeing the great Pacific Ocean for the first time and enjoying one of its beaches. We also visited the beautiful city of Portland for the first time before going to Seattle where I attended the sociological convention. We enjoyed our brief stay in Seattle and coming to know something about the charm of that beautiful city. The following summer we took a similar trip to eastern U.S.A., combining a family vacation with my attendance at a sociological convention in Washington, D.C. On our way we stopped off in Chicago while Carol and the Grenadiers participated in a musical event, then we traveled to Sisterville, West Virginia for a visit with Fran's sister Ione and her family. Ione's husband, Ralph was a chemical engineer with Union Carbide in that area. 114 From Sisterville we drove to Washington, D.C. where we stayed with one of our family friends while we explored historic places in and around our nation's capitol. Besides the White House and the congressional buildings, we visited Washington's Mount Vernon and Jefferson's Montecello. We took an excursion to Richmond to see the University of Virginia, which reflected much of Jefferson's spirit. My cousin, Curtis Christiansen, who had become editor of the Congressional Record, hosted us for a delicious dinner and lively conversation about our common heritage from Minnesota and what was going on in our political capital. As brother of our congressman Theodore Christiansen he obviously had many insights into its political life and culture. What the rest of the family did while I attended the convention, I cannot recall. We returned home on Labor Day just in time for getting back to our children's schools and my academic work at Augsburg. California - Our Next Stop Somewhat fortuitously, the National Sociological Conventions during the first years after I received my Ph.D. were held precisely in cities that we especially wanted to see and which had family relatives we would like to visit. When the convention was held in Las Angeles, it gave us our first chance to visit relatives in both the San Francisco area, as well as the city of Los Angeles. We visited Fran's sister Barbara and her family in Santa Cruz, where her husband, Bill Andreasen, was a public school administrator. Besides coming to know better their family we had a chance to see some of their beautiful seacoast city. Bill took most ofus to San Francisco for our first brief introduction to that city. Our youngest daughter, Janice was left at home with her cousin Gudran of the same age--which I later learned was a great disappointment to her. We very likely under-estimated her interest in seeing new sights and in taking part in all her family's ventures. From Santa Cruz we drove along the coastal road to Los Angeles--stopping on the way at San Luis Obispo for a brief visit with Fran's Aunt Jo. We enjoyed our first experience of picking oranges directly from the tree and savoring the juicy flavors. 115 From Aunt Jo's home we traveled to the Los Angeles metropolis where we stayed at a home secured for us by my nephew Lowell Larson, who had become pastor in a Northridge Lutheran Church. From that Northridge residence Lowell and his family helped us see bits and pieces of the fabulous "Fragmented Metropolis," as it was later to be characterized by a prominent urban scholar. Included in our sightseeing was a visit to Disneyland, giving us a foretaste of that bit of emerging fantasy Americana. As I recall our two budding sophisticates, Carol and Ruth Ann, chose not to demean themselves with such trivia. We were very grateful to Lowell and Acky (his wife) and other members of their family for their hosting us all during our stay in Los Angeles. This was especially important while I was attending the convention. On our return trip our family got a first glimpse of such fascinating cities as Las Vegas and Salt Lake City, together with experiencing for the first time some of the realities of the vast desert landscapes of the west. I think it can confidently be affirmed that these and other summer trips during the last years of our life in the Standish community contributed much to the cohesiveness of our family. However, it would be a mistake to conclude that our life was like that of a cocoon. Each of our children developed their separate friendship connections and special interests, even as I spent much of my time working in the academic community and Fran did part-time work as a nurse at Mount Sinai Hospital. Carol also began working parttime at local shops in the area. Fran had also become an active leader in the Camp Fire Girls organization, as well as an active participant in school-related programs and functions. When I had completed my studies for the Ph.D., Fran and I decided that it was time for us to assume responsibility for more active participation in the political life of our city and state. Hence we attended the local caucus meeting of the Democratic Farmer-Labor Party. To our surprise and very likely because oflow attendance at the meeting, I was elected local caucus chairman and Fran its secretary. Perhaps most importantly we were elected delegates to the party's up-coming convention. As it turned out, our votes proved decisive in a very close contest between two candidates for the state 116 legislature. Our candidate was later elected to and served in the State House for many years: Needless to say, we became convinced of the importance of political participation and over the years became quite active in the party of our persuasion. Shenandoah Heights - Our Last Family Home In 1964, from a strictly sociological point of view, we made perhaps the most incongruous and imprudent housing decision we could have made. We moved into a new home on 4800 - 1ih A venue South in what came to be known as the Shenandoah Heights neighborhood. It was a more stately home than our Standish house. It had a large living room with an attractive fireplace, a dining room, kitchen and eating alcove, plus two bedrooms and a bath on the first floor with three bedrooms and a bath on the second floor. It also had a spacious basement with an attached 2-car garage and a large attic. Even though the home was far from ostentatious, from a typical "American" point of view, our move was a definite "upward step." In many ways, such perspectives were alien to our family's developing social ideology. But we were enchanted by the architectural style of the house and the more spacious accommodations. In a sense we really "stumbled" upon this house on a Sunday afternoon drive around our part of town, and were so charmed by it that we almost agreed that very afternoon that we should try to buy it. I think we gave relatively little thought about the fact that we were moving away from what had been for us a very good neighborhood, with the best possible linkages with public schools and other amenities of a friendly and cohesive community. Nor did we seriously think about the fact that our family would shortly approach the "empty nester" stage of development, since both Carol and Ruth Ann had graduated from high school. Perhaps even more important, we really did not give much thought about what the move might mean for Linnea and Janice who would have to leave what had become for them pleasant school connections together with their associated friendships. The new home was much farther away from the schools to which they would now go than was the case at Standish. 117 I am not certain about how much the economic aspects of the move played into our decision--in many ways we had begun to berate sheer market determinism. Never the less the economics of the move were clearly favorable. The family selling the home had to make a move to Washington, D.C. because of a job assignment there and hence was eager to make a quick sale. Furthermore, our credit union thought the relatively low price for the house a good investment and provided us a favorable loan contract. Our own home on Standish was also easily sold at a good price. In retrospect, from the perspective of the 1990s when we sold the home, the purchase of this home was perhaps the best investment our family ever made. Economics aside, as in our other family moves, we fairly quickly made the necessary adjustments to the new situation. We of course enjoyed the spaciousness of the new home and gradually came to feel "at home" in the new place. Its proximity to the Minnehaha Parkway and Lake Nokomis became a special attraction for the whole family and remained so for many years. The shopping amenities at 4gth and Chicago were also attractive, reflecting a kind of small-town main street atmosphere. The spaciousness of the basement provided me the opportunity of developing at long last a pleasant study for my academic work and library. I had graduat~d from transformed coal bins. Our whole family soon came to enjoy the many special amenities of the home--its large screened-in porch over-looking the backyard trees and shrubs, the garden space and clothesline, the attached garage, etc. All in all this became our "family home" for nearly thirty years. The Growing "Empty Nester" Aspects of the Home Since Carol was already in her third year at Augsburg College and Ruth Ann was ready to begin her first year, the "empty nester" phase of our family life had already begun. Three years later - after graduating from Washburn High School, Linnea left for Northfield to begin her studies at St. Olaf College. Four years after that Janice began her college studies--first at Augsburg, then at St. Olaf. While I think our whole family gradually became attached to our new home. We never again experienced the cohesiveness we had enjoyed at Standish. 118 The Counter Culture and Family Dynamics The usual family tensions between parents and children during this stage of family development was further complicated by the generational estrangement associated with the "counter culture" developments in our country during the 1960s and 70s. Out of the understandable youth revolt against the tragic follies of the Vietnam War, there developed a virulent youth culture that tended to divide our country into two cultures--the older generational culture which was identified with all such events as associated with Vietnam and the youth culture in revolt against that older culture. The counter-culture found an attractive outlet and symbolic representation in exploding "rock culture." Our family was not immune to these forces of intergenerational tensions. I think that in a sense it was caught in the crossfire between these two cultures. Both Fran and I shared many of the judgments of the counter culture vis-a-vis our governments Vietnam policies and many of the injustices associated with our materialistic culture. On the other hand, we had also been nurtured in what we perceived to be the better aspects of our historic cultural and democratic heritage. We were in a sense living under the tension between these two orientations. It was likely no accident that two of the books that I was reading had the following chapters: "Living Under Tension" and "Fighting the Tensions." As our daughters approached adulthood they inevitably had to relate somehow to these two cultures and their tensions. There were times when some of them took what we perceived to be a rather strident counter-culture posture. Thus there were many anxious moments and many tears shed, but throughout those troublesome years the fundamental family bonds survived the forces of estrangement, and as of this writing, both Fran and I are deeply grateful for the family bonds of affection that sustain our latter years of life. Family Adaptations in the Empty-Nester Stage The preceding comments about tensions in our family during the counter culture era were not meant as an over-all characterization of our life together at that time. Our family in many ways continued to function in ways typically expected in this stage of its development--celebrating birthdays, Christmas holidays, and other special events. Our home continued as a place for hosting friends and enjoying the special amenities of life associated with our new home. 119 For Fran and me, perhaps the most significant change was our increasing travel and joint participation in special innovative educational programs of Augsburg College. The most dramatic and rewarding travel related educational ventures was our launching of the Scandinavian Urban Studies Term at the University of Oslo in 1973 and the follow-up participation in the continuing SUST programs in 1979 and 1984. What was especially gratifying to me was Fran's zestful participation and helpfulness in the innovative ventures. This deepened my awareness of how much she had meant to me throughout our life together. I sought to give expression to some of that after our participation in the 1979 SUST program in Scandinavia. I think it appropriate that I conclude this chapter on our family by combining those comments from 1979 with a general tribute to Fran. January 1980 Shortly after our return from Oslo where we had spent about five months codirecting a 1979 Scandinavian Urban Studies Term, I heard for the first time Roger Whittaker's song "You Are My Miracle." I immediately sensed its special poignancy for me as I reflected on Fran's importance as a virtual partner and helpmate throughout that academic semester. Even though there had been some difficulties in directing the program, especially conducting the study trips to the capital cities of Scandinavia, the program altogether was both a success and a joy. I realized in a special way the importance of Fran's contribution to the entire venture. First of all, as in so many of my special innovative ventures in education, Fran joined in the venture with zest and total support. Of course she was my constant companion and lively traveler. But beyond that, she helped make our fifth-floor apartment on Josephine's Gate a cozy and comfortable home for us during our stay. She became a special friend of the students and often hosted them at our apartment. They loved her good cooking, as well as her congenial and friendly hospitality. She zestfully joined me in walking in the people-centered streets of Oslo--especially Kati Johansgate. Within the limits of our time she helped plan our social and cultural life in the city that we had come to love. I cannot imagine how our venture could have turned out to be so enjoyable, creative, and generally successful without her. 120 A decade or so later, as I returned home from a rather major surgery at the Fairview Riverside Hospital, Whittaker's song came back to my consciousness. "You are my nights, you are my days, you are my miracle in so many ways. You give me hope, you carry on, you are my miracle. You make me strong." The more I reflected on this--as she cared for me both as a nurse and homemaker--I came to realize that Fran has indeed been my miracle oflove and support throughout our life and work together for more than fifty years. While I have enjoyed my work as a college teacher, I realize that much of that joy can be attributed to her loving support and cooperation. In many ways she was a T.A, even as she served as a social director for our part in academically related social functions. She made our home a welcome place for student visits, as well as for social events with faculty colleagues. When on that "enchanted evening" in Riverside Park we first met and discovered a mutual attraction for each other, I could never have dreamed that it would culminate in the good fortune of sharing my life with Fran-- "my miracle of love." For all of that - a thousand thanks! 121 Torstenson family farm. Lac qui Parle County, MN 122 Joel's Family: Standing from left to right--Selmer, Tilla, Ole, Lena, Marie, Bud Seated from left to right-Olaf, Esther, Joel, Oscar, and Ludolph 123 College Graduation 124 fl,• Joel and Frances in Minneapolis 1937-1938 125 N \0 • ~ - - - - - -- - - - · - · -- --- ;.... rJJ. rJJ. 0 0 ~ Cl) ;.... ~ ~ r--- N Joel's Family 1989: Upper row from left to right-Ruth Ann, Linnea, Carol Lower row from left to right-Joel, Frances, and Janice Marie 128
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