Lives Worth Noting, 2024
And welcome, 2025!
Toward year-end, I savor reading “Notable Lives / Deaths” in the New York Times. You’ll not find the following sketches in the Times… but here’s a modest attempt to capture a small part of special people I knew and the relationships we had. These lives brought light to my life; their passing dims this light perceptibly.
I knew Gloria M. since the day she was born, a neighbor half mile east, a few years younger than me, which means memories stretching back about as far as I can go. Much of the ample kindness in Gloria was genetic, from her mother, truly as good as ever walked the earth. But then cancer… which pounced and claimed with exceptional swiftness. I was at the keyboard for her funeral, including gathering and consoling music prior to the service, songs familiar to our shared community. Gloria’s ancestors were founders of our church, as were mine, now 148 years ago. May we all be remembered for as long.
Dick J. came to North Iowa to teach, in 1969, my sophomore year. He was part of a small coterie arriving annually, fresh from college, probably not envisioning planting a lifetime flag in a rural community. But plant it he / they did. Dick taught at my Alma Mater until 2004. He had the good fortune of not only marrying into the community, but also marrying a relative of mine. His wife’s paternal grandfather and my maternal grandfather were brothers. Dick helped me appreciate math, no small accomplishment. (That I am not now a particularly skilled mathematician is all on me.)
Ann H.-L., although some called her Annmarie, she was always just Ann to me: classmate, teacher, social worker, dear friend. Gone too soon… but then, aren’t we all for those who love us. And indeed, I loved Ann — her thoughtfulness, her optimism, her ability to derive pleasure from the smallest matters. I loved her outbound personality and her ready acceptance of others, her randomness and her unconventional nature. Often, high school friendships become ships passing in the night. That our “life ships” kept crossing was more her doing than mine. I’m grateful for our every encounter.
I’ve written before about Phyllis H., departing a few days before reaching age 100. Like Dick, she, too, married into my family, wed to Dad’s cousin. Three of my brothers and I sang at Phyllis’s funeral, calling to mind all the times she brought music into the church, 60 years, give or take, at the organ bench — 3,000 preludes, postludes, and offertories, maybe 10,000 hymns. And my admiration swells when recalling her 33 years volunteering at the Mayo health complex in Rochester, Minnesota, driving 80 miles round-trip to be of service. Faithfulness is often overlooked as a human trait; Phyllis personified this virtue.
I think Robert C. was Mom’s last surviving first cousin, I’m not entirely sure. An engineer, Bob lived near Seattle when we first met, almost 50 years ago, at his parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary. One year later, on our honeymoon, we had dinner at the home he shared with his wonderful wife, Katie. Despite distance, we managed to sustain an enduring relationship over the years. I recall with great fondness their warm hospitality a quarter century ago when we traveled with my parents to visit West Coast relatives, then their return visit to connect with Midwestern relatives five years later.
I met John S. in college. Our primary shared experience came about when we roomed together on a three-week choir tour, January 1974, meaning I knew John for fifty years. He was an exceptional musician, a remarkable blend of talent and knowledge, coupled with a steadfast commitment to classical sacred music (unlikely to find him at the contemporary worship service). Like Phyllis and me, John was a church organist… but on a MUCH higher plane. John is now gently, persistently, guiding heavenly musicians on appropriate prelude and postlude selections.
*****
Undoubtedly, you, too, have a comparable list. Before embarking on a new year, I suggest reflecting on those no longer among us. What might we learn from them? Then, forward into the future. Welcome, 2025!
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I’m pleased to be part of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. My talented colleagues:
Relationships are the building blocks of life, some come early, others become meaningful as we travel through our ups and downs of living. Sometimes it is simply who we grow up with that happens to be close at hand, other times a situation of simply a brush of recognition this is someone I want to get to know better. For me, it has been an adventure with many "found" friends that I briefly ran in to and they just got stuck! My fast friend John was one for the books! He was an enigma even to his own family, a generally hardworking, yet came up poor family from Waterloo. His brothers and sisters found it important to scramble to not be poor and were successful in the many ways that sustained them in life. John, on the other hand, was destined to be a rover and a hippie, absolutely beyond their comprehension! There are many parts of John's life that remain a mystery to the many people he gathered around him as friends and fellow travelers, both past and present. John was a scribbler of poetry, senseless gibberish to my unappreciative ear. He lived his life in poverty almost intentionally and handled his affairs like a panhandler! When I first met John, he remained rather secretive, wouldn't give me his phone number or address, which sucked me in! Our first meeting was in a free film showing of "Woodstock" in a building that wasn't heated probably in February or March in Iowa! There wasn't much for seating either, beyond a threadbare couch and a couple of folding chairs! Being packed into the couch was much preferred to the cold seats of the folding chairs left for the late comers! John was in all his glory as a walking talking piece of the Woodstock past! His graying beard and long unmanageable sunrise of hair, spoke volumes as to his need to be here! He simply fit! A peace nick, who had had lived in communes in Oregon, marched across the country for nuclear disarmament, spent time in monasteries praying for peace, and living the life of a wandering gypsy. When I met John, he was settled into Cedar Rapids, Iowa and lived in a low income apartment house that was filled to over flowing with John's stuff! Cast off furniture and books crowded his existence, along with the craziest collection of LPs and memories of his past lives! John was a friend to most everybody; he could work his way with the most unsuspecting people, and I will agree, I was one! After a while, you simply dropped your pretentiousness as to why John did what he did and simply expected it when it happened! He loved “road trips” to anywhere and often would tell you he would split the gas, but you never would see it happen! After a while, you simply didn’t care! Having John along for the ride was worth it all by himself! John and I came back from a protest in Des Moines once, and we tried the scenic route driving in a northerly route without benefit of a map or cell phone! Somehow, we managed to cross every East-West highway including interstate 80 without noticing! We also crossed highway 30 and highway 20 and ended up north of Waterloo before we figured out where we were! We got home eventually, but such were the sort of “road trips” we made and enjoyed every minute of it!
John became a part of my “family”. As wooly and disheveled as he was, I made him my best man, an honor no one had ever bestowed upon John! He became a part of our festivities and holiday dinners, always expecting John to be the last one to show up driving 50 miles and hour often on roads less traveled that never were direct! We accepted him, all of those who came to our family dos, much like a crazy uncle people just took to John! He wasn’t much of a cook, that I can attest too, so coming for Thanksgiving or Christmas was a treat John celebrated by not eating for a day in advance! This way he could eat more at our house! The logic escapes me, but that was just John!
The last time I saw him; he was in the ICU following heart surgery that was John’s last chance at survival. He had gone through the surgery and now it was up to John, he was in a comma and was being monitored. Lying on that hospital bed, eyes closed and with his beard and hair spread around him, he looked angelic, and I just knew he was where he needed to be and that I wouldn’t see John again in this world. Three days later, John had gone to his reward and his family was planning a funeral in Waterloo at a later date that ended up being much later with COVID. I quickly sprang into action to have a celebration of life for all his friends in Cedar Rapids that wouldn’t make that trip to Waterloo or couldn’t make that trip. John’s Birthday that year was on Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, and that would have made him laugh! So that became the day we all said goodbye to John, but his memory is still with us. His siblings had no idea we were doing this, and we collected memorials for John at that time. You cannot believe the shock on John’s brother’s face when I presented him a check for eight hundred dollars! John, of course, had no life insurance, and was as poor as a church mouse. The family was having to pay for John’s funeral expenses. Our part of helping was gladly accepted, and I am sure their thinking about their brother and his way of living changed somewhat! I still memorialize John in my house, over my bookcase in our living room he has a place. We are not going to forget John anytime soon, and with that, he is still living in our memory!