By Robert R.
Schwarz
The
family is an integral structure of society and the primary
means
for individuals to experience the reality of God.
What
vehicle is more powerful to invite us into loving relationships,
relationships
where we actually come to know God because we are
cherished,
because we belong, because there are human arms to
embrace
and hold us, because others do not give up on us despite our
shortcomings,
where forgiveness heals, and where joy and laughter
create
memories that bind? …JoAnne Mullen-Muhr,
former director
of
faith formation, St. James church, Arlington Heights, Illinois
Healthy marriages are. . . . good
for children; growing up in a happy
home protects children from mental, physical,
educational and
social problems. . . . the American Psychological Association
While the direct legal and
genetic relationships you share with others can help
you create your definition of a
family, there is more to family relationships
than these basic concepts. A
true family provides its members with emotional
and spiritual kinship...from
LovetoKnow website by Melissa Mayntz, freelance
writer and editor.
The family is the basic cell of
society. It is the cradle of life and love , the place
in which the individual is 'born' and 'grows. '…Saint John Paul II
A cool, early October day and an overcast
sky on Wisconsin's Door Peninsula somehow triggered my muse to resolve an aging regret
about having "lost" most of my extended family decades ago . That
occurred by my repeatedly ignoring , without good reason, invitations to weddings, birthday parties and funerals. Since then, my attempts to reconnect to those loving relationships I
had enjoyed before entering my world of self-centered pursuits—I have no
children, and I remarried soon after my wife of 33 years died— have been
painfully discouraging. When I have given a friendly call to one of many
nephews or nieces or aunts or
uncles I haven't talked to in years, our conversation usually ends with a
lukewarm : "Well , Bob, we'll have to get together sometime. " But we never do.
An unexpected mending of this
fragmentation, however, began when my wife, Mary Alice, and
I embarked on a five-day getaway to the Door Peninsular on Lake Michigan's
Green Bay . During the five-hour drive
from our suburban Chicago home, I mentioned to my wife that maybe I should
write something about this "family issue" and that there were a few hard-learned lessons to pass on to others .
" Like what ?" my wife inquired.
"
Like don't take family love for granted;
don't ever stop stoking the family embers, " I told her. " Old newspaper reporters never
retire—"
—"I
know," she stopped me . " They just write away , " and then asked
if I had packed my voice recorder and
camera , my two digital veterans of interviews with individuals here and there.
Problem
was I hadn't the slightest idea who or what I was looking for. A lot more
musing was waiting for me.
On the
first night at our resort on Rowley's
Bay ,
we met an 86-year-old storyteller—we'll call him Sam— who , before
dinner, had entertained a dining room
audience with a historical narrative of the peninsula by assuming the role of
250-year-old man who had "seen it all. " After our white fish dinner, a journalist's
hunch prompted me to approach Sam with my voice recorder and a word of
appreciation for his animated talk.
"I'm
doing a story about family, " I said, hoping he had a family . He did and was eager to talk .
Sam
was a widower and former dean of
students at a New York university and was
saddened by the "lack of disciplined structure " within families of all socio-economic levels
. " I'm very disturbed , " he
told me , "that when I talk to
parents today, they don't even think about this anymore. They're so busy
thinking about their own desires for more pleasure, more electronic devices.
"
Sam admitted
he had a son who had lost everything
because of a drug addiction problem. " How can this happen to a guy who's been brought up by two highly
educated parents ?" He expressed
dismay.
I offered that
his son did have free will. "Yes, " he replied, " but he didn't follow it ; he wasn't strong enough.
"
The
interview didn't exactly address my
needs as a journalist, but it did prime my pump .
The next day Mary Alice and I we took an excursion to Gills Rock , a
settlement on the peninsula's northern
tip and boarded the
"Island Clipper" ferry for Washington Island.
Once on board for the five-mile cruise, I excused myself from my wife and went up to the
open-air deck to gaze upon the dark blue lake waters to unleash everything
from my mind except with an occasional thought of the
waters' bottom littered with several known ship wrecks ; we were crossing a strait called Porte des Morts (
"Door of the Dead" ) by the early French explorers .
We docked at a small landing and boarded
a tourist tram for a ride through a portion of Washington's
Island's 23 square miles , which
are populated with almost 700 residents , many of Scandinavian
(mostly Icelandic) and Irish
descent . The tram rolled us through farmland and forests as we heard the
history of missionary work done here with the Ojibwa and
Potawatomi Indians by French Jesuits
between 1650 and 1816. I grew
restless waiting for something to spark
my writing that would put closure on
this family issue that had dogged me far too long.
" My Husband
and I have Put Together a Blended Family"
The tram
made a 15-minute refreshment stop at a
small grocery store . I was about to follow Mary Alice into the store when , on
the other side of this country road , I
noticed a small café with a fairly large
wooden statue of a monk holding onto some birds. The statue left no doubt that
it was Saint Francis, the l3th Century
saint who addressed the moon and the sun as well as nature's creatures
as his " brothers and sisters
" . "I'll be just be a minute , " I told Mary Alice who ,
knowing how distorted my sense of a minute could be, indulged me with a smile
and suggested I return in time
for us to catch the return tram . "Meanwhile," she said,
"I'll look for some souvenir post cards."
 |
| Valerie Fonds outside her cafe |
Inside the café , I watched a perky woman of senior
citizen age wait on two customers who were buying some Washington Island fudge.
"Excuse
me, miss, " I said. " I saw your statue of St. Francis
outside.."
"Oh,
yes, " she replied and, anticipating the usual tourist questions from me, cheerfully gave her spiel: " Well, each morning here I serve a free
breakfast of yogurt, granola , coffee and fruit to anyone who shows up for our
prayer group. Any denomination. We eat
at 7 a.m. "
My pump had been primed .
She
introduced herself as Valerie Fons, the proprietor. I asked if she minded giving me her thoughts
about the value of a good, healthy family.
Her expression said no one had ever asked her this . I felt for my
pocketed voice recorder; but with the tram
returning soon, I felt uncomfortably rushed, especially not knowing if
Valerie had anything to say which I
could really use. Why don't I simply get a few library books about families
when we get home, I thought . Surely I can get a
few valuable insights that way. . . No, that's being a lazy.
"I guess it's all right,"
she said cautiously, then immediately
dove into a long reply .
In
between Valerie waiting on an occasional customer, I kept our
conversation going and eventually learned that
Valerie was an ordained elder of the United Methodist Extension
Ministry. And when she told me she had earlier that morning carried lunches for
her six adopted children to the island's
only school , I now happily anticipated golden nuggets of family insights coming from Valery. [ As a footnote, I want to say that before
the days' end , my total disbelief in
the reality of coincidences or luck would again be affirmed . ]
" My husband and I have put together a
blended family, " she said, explaining that one
of her children is Haitian and the other five are Afro-American . Their ages
range from 12 to 21 and
"have come from abuse and
trauma " and were placed in the Fons home by a foster care agency in
Michigan . Today the entire family lives in a ten-bedroom home behind the
café.
" We
try to open up our lives to the
children's special dreams and issues,"
Valerie continued, now enjoying what she
was sharing, likely for the first time. "We
emphasize emotional intelligence . I
thought that now that our children are teens , I would have
to be leaving the island because of their need to see a wider world. But
we have invited diversity to this island
, and it's the best work I have ever done [ as an
ordained elder ]. "
She
explained that Washington Island residents are currently sponsoring several high school exchange
students from Belgium, Spain, Costa Rica, Korea, China, and Columbia . " We have changed
the face of this island ," Valerie boasted, , " and have brought
energy to this school and to the community and to our families . "
I asked
Valerie what she thought was the main problem
facing American families. " I can't speak for anyone else, but what I do is listen to my children and try to hear what they're
really saying , and to let them know they are heard. "
Mary Alice entered
the café to tell me our return tram was
outside. I asked my wife to take some photographs
with her point-and-shoot camera—I had left my Canon Rebel at the resort. She did.
Broken Families
Sadden this Pastor
As our tram
headed to the Stravekirke , a replica of a medieval church in Norway, I felt
like an old time wagon train scout trying to gather helpful facts for a report to bring back. Exiting the church was a man and his wife and a son
obviously challenged with special needs . (I later learned that the son,
23-year-old Timothy, was born after only six months of gestation. ) Though
doubting the propriety of my act, I walked up to the father and told him of my "mission" asked if he minded answering a few questions. I'm sure he thought me brusque and intrusive
of his privacy , as if I were some journalist hungry for exciting tabloid news
about a family vacationing with a handicapped son.
But to my surprised delight, the father warmly
replied, " I'm David Johnson, pastor of the Overland Baptist Church in
Overland , Missouri . This is my wife, Marilyn, and my son Timothy. "
 |
| The Johnson family by the Stravekirke ( in background) |
We all boarded the tram, and ten minutes later Mary Alice and I were walking with the Johnson family at an outdoor farm museum, where I photographed the pastor
showing Timothy how to work an old water pump. A few hours later we boarded the Island
Clipper, and on the cruise back to Gills
Rock, the Rev. Johnson granted me an interview.
"
We're lucky to have Timothy ," he said. " He's lucky to be alive . He's the only
son we will ever have because my wife is a cancer victim. " I asked how God speaks to his pastor's heart about families, that is , what's wrong and right with them nowadays? "Family is instituted by God just as
marriage is," he began. "With people in my community, I can tell you
that broken families inevitably lead to
other problems, like loss of income, lower education levels .
"
What saddens this pastor the most are
moms and dads who part company ,
leaving their children without parents. "Parents who come
from broken families can have a very
difficult time in life. I know of dads in prisons, and moms who , with
their children now living with
grandparents, cannot survive on their own. There is unemployment , financial
struggles, but you can't just blame it
all on poverty. " He said he's also
seen well-to-do families who come from broken families yet are
still "ironing things out. "
How can a church
help? "It's frustrating to all clergy that the rates of divorces and
family disintegration are right on par with societal norms ," the pastor replied
. " I don't know what we can do except pray about it and preach the truth
of scripture and try to be a role
model. " My last question to him was : How can we as a nation address this
issue of broken families ? He frowned,
then managed to laugh. . " If I had an answer to that I wouldn't be a
pastor; I'd be a politician or I'd write a book."
---------------------------------
Signs of a Healthy Family
*You trust each other *You feel
free to talk openly,
without fear of disapproval *You support one another
during
difficult times *You have fun and enjoy one
another *You respect one another
Signs of an
Unhealthy Family
*Substance abuse *Perfectionism *Overprotection
*Mental
illness *Neglect *Emotional, physical,
verbal
or sexual abuse
( from
the SteppingStones ministry )
------------------------------------
Melancholy and a
Cherished Memory
Feeling
melancholic at the lodge late that night, I left my room and , hoping that the
chilly night air and the dark expanse of the bay waters would absorb my
melancholy, I walked down to the edge of the pier . I was alone in a silence
broken only by wavelets breaking
against the pier's trestle timbers . I scanned the shore line for lights and
but saw none; then peered upward at a few starry constellations—I knew two by name—and gazed at a yellowish crescent
moon across which clouds were
drifting. For a long moment I seemed to exist as the only man on the planet. And then my melancholy drifted—into
a memory . . .
. . . It was Christmas Eve in the mid 1940's in my family's two-floor frame home surrounded with snow-covered maple trees , lilac bushes, and evergreens at 801 S. Chester Avenue in Park Ridge, a middle class suburb of Chicago. I am seven years old and , with my three-year-old brother, Lester, I am glee-stricken in our living room nest of love, laughter and cheerful chiding . I see Mom and Dad, " Gramps" ( who lives with us ), " Taunt" ( my great-aunt), and two, soon-to-be-orphaned , pre-teenage cousins .Various spontaneous conversations keep crisscrossing the room with topics constantly weaving in and out with abandon.
Mom goes to
her upright spinet piano and , with her finely pitched, joy-filled soprano voice, begins
singing her favorites from sheet music while I stand at her side and
sing terribly off-key . As best the rest
of us can, we follow or hopscotch through the lyrics of " Alexander's
Ragtime Band", " Sierra Sue",
"Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" ,
and Mom's special favorite , "Papa, Won't You Dance with Me "
( from the then Broadway hit "High Button Shoes" ) . Dad calls
out for his favorite from the same show , " Indian Love Call . " Fireplace logs are flaming. The floor is a hodge-podge of recently opened gifts, toys, and Gramp's perennial gift of a jumbo box of candied
fruit. . .
You Can't Go Home
Again
. . . But I
want no more of this great memory and walk back to my room. The title of
a novel I had read as a teenager and which I had then thought meaningless ,
flashed at me. It was "You Can't Go Home Again" by Thomas Wolfe, and it now barged into my
mind with sobering, pragmatic reality. There was no going home. Truth was I didn't want to go home again .
"
Where have you been so long?" Mary
Alice asked at bedside.
"I
think I know something important about myself. I want to see
Ruth when we get back . "
"Oh, I
see, " my wife replied and went back to sleep.
Digging Up Family
Roots and Then Some
The morning
after we had returned to Arlington Heights, I made a date for coffee
at a McDonald's with a family friend--we'll call Betty.A few years after the death of her
mother, for whom Betty had been a devoted
care-giver for many years . Her mother's death, Betty once told me, had
left "a large empty hole in my life which I desperately wanted to fill.
" She proceeded to fill that hole by climbing branch by branch through her family tree. Through the years Betty has reconnected with several family
members by telephone calls and by ferreting out hundreds of family names from
American and European wedding and death
certificates and immigration records , some of which have been encrypted for 300 years. Her library of notebooks,
manuals , and digitalized texts reflect countless
hours of research which, she
insists, "must be accurate before I
record anything. "
"
What's on your mind, ? " she
asked over our coffee.
Anyone
sitting tête-à-tête with Betty, notices, with pleasure, her full head of attractive white hair and her
blue eyes that stay attentive to whatever topic is being discussed.
I confessed to her my dumb mistake—that of
being seduced by the allures of the world—of ignoring all those family
invitations of years ago and my
failure to rebuild or reconnect to the
several relatives who once loved me .
" So?
" she replied, as if to say how common that mistake is .
"
Well, I don't want to see others do the same. "
" I
get it," she said.
"
Well, there's a bit more to it. "
I
started to tell her about my thoughts that night on
Rowley's Bay pier when she interrupted (which irritated me , like a strict teacher might )
with " all I'd like to know is what exactly have you learned ?"
"
Well, I guess I learned the hard way; that sometimes to make and keep a friend, one has to be the first to
reach out and maybe do it more than once. "
"I
know . I have to work at that myself, especially with friends who really don't
know how to reach out." We mentioned a mutual family member. .
My voice
lowered to make sure the increasing intimacy of our conversation could not
enjoyed by the McDonalds' customers behind us .
" On that pier, Betty, I
suddenly realized that I HAVE found a
new family and I am a member of it. Only thing is, I believe t I'm leaving something
out."
"Like
what ?"
"I
don't know. Something beyond my finite mind."
When I named a least a dozen family members I knew intimately , I stopped and looked intently at Betty and exclaimed : "I get it ! I see a family here,Betty ! I've
had a family, a new family, ever since I
remarried but didn't know it !
Betty smiled
and nodded.
But another
dimension was to be added to my family
life, rather a new vision of it . A few
months later I posted on this blog you are reading an article entitled: " Digging Up Their
Family Roots Yielded Joy, a Few Surprises and Lots of Inspiration. " It has
interviews with several people , including Betty and another family member. At the article's end , I
waded into this other dimension with a
sort of metaphysical probing of the family dynamic, which seemed to enrich and
expand my entire vision of humanity.
Here's an excerpt from that blog . :
Another statistic I came across (http://www.prb.org/Publications/Articles/2011/ How
Many People… ) excites one's
imagination. Carl Haub, senior visiting scholar at the Population
Reference Bureau, presents a cogent argument as to the number of people who
have ever lived on earth: since 2011, he reports, 107,602, 707, 791 humans have
lived or been born since 8,000 B.C.
I talked with Stephen Szabados about the television program " Finding
Your Roots" (http://www.pbs.org/wnet/finding-your-roots/) . I
had watched the episode where the moderator, Henry Louis Gate, Jr., a professor
at Harvard University , documented his own family tree.
Gates, an Afro-American, traced some of his ancestry to a small community
and was surprised to see that some of his
"kinfolk" is Caucasian! At the end of the episode, he
expressed amazement over "how we are all linked to just about
everybody. I continue to be amazed at how connected members of the human family
are. "
What Gates felt when he discovered
he was linked in a very real sense to all of humanity, I too felt one Sunday in
church when sitting behind the grandparents of
a two-year-old , a three-year-old, and a babe whom grandpa and grandma had been rotating tenderly between their now tired arms for nearly an
hour . Naturally, the grandchildren's patience was beginning to ebb; the babe
now began to cry incessantly and the three-year-old broke loose from the family corral and ran down the aisle and the two –year-old was moving every limb in assorted directions.
Clearly, so I thought, this two-year-old
could and would not tolerate
another five seconds of any discipline.
As the congregation said the Lord's
Prayer , the restlessness of the two-year-old girl intensified. But at the "amen" , when
all turned to show the customary sign of
peace to each other, she suddenly anchored her body and mind—and perhaps soul,
too. Then, without
prompts from either grandparent,
she turned around and, with that smile
unique to child innocence, politely extended
her small hand over the back of the pew to give and receive from me the handshake of peace
. We exchanged smiles. Holding
her hand for a second or two and then glancing at her family and others with outreached hands, I had seen that this
little girl had been the first to reach
out, and by so doing , had reminded me
that I was also a member of a body of
family—indeed, a family both infinite and eternal .
Other Families Interviewed on Exodus Trekkers
***
The
End
All
comments are welcome.
© 2015
Robert R. Schwarz
An interview about 'moral wounds'
with a 2-star general in
with a 2-star general in
the next EXODUS TREKKERS
