Internship Memories

A Letter from Mary Ann Solmonson

This email letter was sent to David I. and Mary Nelson on February 10, 2009. It should have been read at the reunion, but here it is now. Mary Ann was married to Rick Halvorson, a classmate of ours who died while serving Trinity Lutheran Church in Tacoma, WA.


The year was 1967. It was springtime. Rick was in his second year at the seminary, and we were waiting for his internship assignment. The day finally came, and he received the notice—Grace Lutheran Church on 16th Avenue in Washington, D.C. We looked it up on the map and found out if you keep going down 16th Ave you would be at the White House. Having grown up in a small town in South Dakota, I was a bit apprehensive about living in Washington D.C. The wonderful part was that Rick’s sister Karen, John and baby Katherine lived close by. John was a lawyer for the Justice Department spending much time in the South during the Civil Right’s Movement. We packed our bags when school was out in May and headed east. What a year awaited us.

I looked for a job at a hospital in the operating room and ended up at Walter Reed Army Hospital. Because our country was at war in Viet Nam, the people I worked with were only at Walter Reed for about six weeks before they were deployed to the war zone. By the time our year was over, I was the most experienced nurse in the operating room, except for the Director. Down the hall from the operating rooms was the Presidential Suite. I was fortunate to get a tour of it one day. It was a beautifully furnished apartment for the President and his family. (Maybe we can add “her” family someday.) Little did I know one day I would assist the Surgeon General of the Army when he took out President Eisenhower’s gall bladder and President Eisenhower would stay in that suite.

One day in the spring of 1968, the day after Martin Luther King was killed, as the cherry trees were in full bloom my boss came to me about noon and said, “I want you to go home right now. Did you drive to work, or take the bus?” I told her I had taken the bus and then asked why. She said things were not good in the city and she wanted me to go home. She offered to get me a ride, but I told her it was ok for me to take the bus. It was only about a 10-minute ride. I walked out to 16th Street and waited for the bus. When I boarded, I realized I was the only white person on the bus. I was more afraid during that 10-minute ride than I had ever been in my life. I arrived home safely. The city of Washington DC was on fire. Martin Luther King Jr. had been killed, and the people of Washington DC were angry.

I went into our little apartment in the back of the church and waited for Rick. After several hours waiting, he still wasn’t home, so I called the Pastor and learned he had sent Rick to several churches in the 14th Street riot area that morning to deliver a flyer. He was also worried when he learned Rick wasn’t back home. It was about 8 more hours before he finally arrived home safely.

He had been caught in the middle of the riot. Stores were burning on both sides of the street. People were looting the stores that were not on fire. There was a car overturned on the corner with a man standing on top of it with a gun, directing traffic. The car in front of Rick took a brick through his windshield. He swerved into the crowd, the crowd separated, and he was able to get through to another street. Rick was able to follow him. Because of the riot many of the streets had been closed, so Rick had to drive out into the suburbs to turn around and head back to our apartment. The riot continued into the weekend—Palm Sunday. On Palm Sunday we had tanks in front of our church. It was announced at church—we needed someone to offer to take food to those in the riot area. Yes, you guess right, we offered. We headed down with our car full of food and were stopped by the National Guard. We were told if we crossed the line, we were on our own. They would not come in to help us. We passed their check post and entered with our gifts. We were lucky!! We were able to deliver the food and get out without being hurt. Would I do that again? At this age, probably not! I have some pictures of this time, and I hope I can share them with some of you. Lady Bird Johnson had planted flowers to make the city beautiful. I have pictures of the burned out buildings with the beautiful flowers in front of them. Did I think then I would ever see an African-American President in my lifetime? My answer would have been no!

In June of that year my parents, and brothers Bob and Jim came for a visit. They were not very comfortable in this city. At the time they were there, we had Resurrection City on the park strip. This was the same place where millions of people stood to watch the inauguration of Barack Obama. We walked around and visited with the poor camping there to peacefully demonstrate their cause. I know we were all changed that day. Did I think then, would I ever see an African-American President in my lifetime? My answer would have been no!

Rick was privileged to be a part of the Poor Peoples’ March on Washington soon after Resurrection City. The pictures I saw of that march showed the park filled with people again. Some were even wading in the reflection pool. He said it was a life-changing day for him. Did I think then, would I ever see an African-American President in my lifetime? My answer would have been no!

One morning when my family was still with us, my Dad was sitting on the back steps of the church reading the morning paper, and the secretary came to work and told him Robert Kennedy had been killed. We were not able to witness the funeral for Robert Kennedy because of our work. Did I think then, would I ever see an African-American President in my lifetime? My answer would have been no!

I was moved the day I watched Barack Obama take the oath as President of the United States. How far we have come! I am so proud of the people of our country to have elected Barack Obama as their 44th President. I am glad our Grandchildren can be a part of this day in history. Who knows what will happen by the time they are my age? I hope this continues to be a better world for all people. Thanks be to God!

Something coming...

Hi, gang, Dave Mullen here:

I'm still basking in the warmth of our time together--and that's something given the sorry state of the economy and the shrinking pension funds.

However, to the point. I mentioned to some of you something I've been involved with for about two years now. It's called, rather weirdly, "Quadratos." It is a made up word signifying a four-fold way.

Check it out at quadratos.com.

In essence, Quadratos, the vision of which came to Alexander Shaia (sorry, he's not a Lutheran, but is Roman Catholic in background, and is an expert in liturgy and RCIA, and possesses an astonishing knowledge of the gospels and their historical background).

What Alexander sees in the gospels is the Spirit inspired gift to the church of precisely the four gospels we have. Each speaks to the koinonia at different places/experiences along the way of faithful discipleship.

Matthew speaks to the church undergoing dramatic change.
Mark (this year's gospel!) speaks to the church undergoing suffering. Seems incredibly appropriate this year.
John speaks of how to maturely manage joy and union with Christ, and was used extensively in the early church for the annual retreat that became over time, Lent.
Luke speaks to the church actively and intentionally engaging in mission and service to the world.

The gospels, then, in Shaia's view are not really about the biography of Jesus, but are rather the gospels in four expressions for the differing experiences the church will inevitably face. As a Lutheran I find this a powerful way to unhook people from their literalisms, and I am quite comfortable with it as a way of encountering the Living Word in our midst.

None of this seems to me to all that radical, but if taken seriously as a whole, it leads, I believe to renewal, even reformation of the church. And it presents a non-hysterical, very mature approach to the church living in Christ in the world.

Finally, it all goes as planned, there will be a major ramp-up of a reformated book by Alexander about a year from now. This, then, is a heads up.

Thank you, thank you

Thank you, thank you, thank you, one and all: the planners of the gathering, the leaders of the sessions and of worship (and of my opportunity to contribute) and all of you for just being there. Yes, I want to do it again. I'd like it to be the same but know it can never be repeated just as it was. We will be different: different in numbers, different attendees, different in person and experiences. (And, how can we put "Group Belly Laugh" on the agenda?) But the same Spirt gathering us in koinonia. I want to do it again, maybe as part of an extended driving trip which both LeeAnn and I enjoy. Yes, she will be with me, God willing.

I arrived home safely, Friday evening, WITH my luggage! As I boarded the plane at Tucson, I glimpsed the clear sky and felt the warm air--it was the most beautiful day, weather-wise, of my time there. I took a deep breath, suspecting I wouldn't be experiencing this for a while. And I haven't. The frigid air chilled the corridor from plane to terminal in Minneapolis but I was warmed when who should be waiting for me but Bob White! Before he had to go on his way, he wrangled a meal voucher from NorthWest. When I arrived in Winnipeg, it was no less cold but my luggage was in the carousel. The only glitch was that my intern failed to pick me up as he insisted he would and I took a taxi home. (To those of you who have been supervisors, advise me: is this grounds for a failing grade? No, grace will abound.)

The warmth of Arizona--most particularly of our gathering--remains as we carry on in the chill of a lingering Winnipeg winter.

Thanks be to God.

LANNY

"A Desert Blessing"

Thanks, all, for the great experience in Tucson. I have written this reflection.--Paul Lundborg

“Desert Blessing”
February 2009

For forty years we wandered,
Each in our own wilderness.
Entering villages and cities
We conquered their citizens
With brash youthfulness
And true doctrine,
Trusting in our own rightness.
We looked back in longing for the safety
Of theological brick-making
We had known for four brief years.

The desert’s manna failed to satisfy
Our appetites for success and fame.
But the grace of the wilderness
Was revealed in failure.
We couldn’t find our way
And had to ask for directions.
Left to rely on our own brilliance
We failed to heal the sick
Release the captive
Remember the message
And soon we realized we were lost.

That’s when the manna
Began to taste good,
To satisfy our appetite.
We were filled by flakes of sustenance
Not of our own making.
It was all grace.
In search of a feast,
We had been granted enough.
And we survived.

More could be said of our 40 years,
But we were called to re-unite.
Come away from your wilderness
To another desert to peek into
The Land of Promise.
Come to feast on memory and song,
Laughter and healing.

Here was delight
In the Trinity’s affirmation
Of fellowship, communion, koinonia.
Fueled by memories of a shared history
And a common hope for a new future,
We glimpsed a vision of heaven’s shore.

We tasted the feast of abundant grace
In soulful talk and gracious listening.

We heard the elders’ voices
Singing ‘round the throne,
And they were our own.

The foolish wisdom acquired by experience
Was shared by old friends
With whom we had once been young.

Gifts we had witnessed decades ago
And labeled as “potential”
Had been polished through the years
And emerged as “fulfilled”.

Becoming more of what we have always been,
We witnessed congruency, integrity, and wisdom
In each other.

We were blessed in the wilderness,
By the Redemptorists,
And our common Redeemer,
In their desert home.

Listen for the whistle.
Could be a train
Just passing by.
Or a memory of our blessing.

"My Younger Voice"

Here's the reading I shared at one of our sessions. I missed the first quarter and the first several weeks of our middler year at Luther because Rose Ann and I joined the Peace Corps in June of 1966, shortly after completing my first year at the seminary. We were in the Peace Corps and serving in India until mid-December of that year and returned to resume studies after Christmas--Paul Lundborg

“My Younger Voice”
January, 2005

In 1966 Rose Ann and I recorded our early, not exactly first, impressions of India while beginning our Peace Corps assignment in a small village in northern India. We were impressionable, on our first journey away from the land of our birth, but once we returned home we never took the time to listen to the tape..
In January of 2005 we listened to those words—20 minutes worth—recorded on reel to reel magnetic tape and now digitally reproduced. We were preparing to return to India with a study group focusing on the theme: "A Spiritual Journey Through India". The trip would lead us to study Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism--religions that began in India--plus the influence of Islam in India. We listened to our words 39 years after we had spoken them, following other journeys abroad and preparing for a new experience of India. We heard voices from our past. Our own.

Listening to the younger me
Was an exercise in incredulity.
It causes me perplexity
Why a lad of merely twenty three
Could cross the world and only see
Weeks and months of responsibility.
Why so somber, no room for glee?
You’re young, o so young, why not carefree?
Now I can name it. Anxiety.

Taking life so seriously,
Feeling burdens internally,
Not a reaction you’d expect to see
When a decade proclaimed its liberty
From church and state and all the powers that be.
But we were born in ’43,
Raised by parents who set the whole world free,
And survived the depression, fortunately.
And they told us, “We want you to be
Advanced, improved, far better than we.”
And we said, “Yes. Now you just wait and see.
Our goal is to serve humanity.”

Cold war, Korea, Viet Nam;
After affects of the hydrogen bomb;
Values exploding all over the place;
Authority, abstinence, issues of race.
Equality, freedom, love, peace and joy.
Booze, drugs and sex for each girl and boy.

Reflect for a minute and I think you will see
We countered our culture, just differently.
With purpose and zeal we set out to be
Pleasers of parents—not wild and free.

Here we are now, over sixty,
Looking back ever so thankfully.
We are who we are and ever will be
Pursuing life a bit dutifully,
But having more fun and feeling more free,
Relaxed and chilled out. Seriously!

Toward a future of Koinonia and mission?

Sue and I both thoroughly enjoyed our class reunion/retreat. It is amazing that so many of us, playing various parts in the overall framework managed to stay out of the way enough for the Spirit to stir things up a bit, including the Holy Hilarity of Wednesday evening. Unforgettable!

Off to such a good start, the question keeps nagging at me--what comes next? In my view our class turned out to be really fine pastors of the church. In retirement we may want to be uninvolved for a time; but we have much to offer. The issue is what that specifically might be for the church, and how to do that without pontificating as so many retired pastors are wont to do. Is there some needed contribution we might be able to make to the vibrant future of the church? Are there particular ways of going with God's future that would be of value to us, our children and our children's children, and to the world?

Come, let us reason together... in order to build upon the foundation put in place outside of Tucson.

Dave Mullen

Mary Jo and I were delighted to be invited to join you all at the class reunion even though I did not graduate with the class. As most of you may recall, I decided to leave the sem after the end of the first quarter of our senior year to pursue a different career path.

We look forward to staying connected with you.

Thanks to the planners and all who provided leadership at the reunion. It really was a good one!

David J Nelson