59 Years… Counting?

THURS., DEC. 7, 2000, 7:10 PM
FARM, KITCHEN TABLE

Yes, o son, this is the Memorial Day of the World War of which you were a small part. You remember the afternoon of a pleasant Sunday in early Winter when the radio proclaimed that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor. You were 15, so there was no immediacy to your being an active participant. You had Japanese-American friends and team-mates, so it was not natural for you to develop hatred for your new “enemies.” Life went on, with no great changes for you, that you can remember.

There was rationing of gasoline, meat, and sugar (that you recall), but you have no thoughts of hardship. When you were a senior in high school you had your Model A, and, again, whatever gasoline you were allowed was sufficient… along with the occasional illegal “fill-ups” your Dad arranged out at “The Yard.”!

After the immediate “danger” of invasion by the Japanese seemed to fade, with your country’s capacities in the Pacific it became just the “lark” of living in wartime.

By the next year you had taken the various tests for the V-12 program, the Navy’s way of recruiting young officers. You passed, of course, but you were still young and not eligible to enlist until your 17th birthday, late in May of that senior year. You did go up and enlist (in your Model A) on that birthday morning, but it apparently was too late to become active in mid-June. So you had to wait until Nov. 1 to make your trip to Berkeley, put on your uniform, and become both an Apprentice Seaman, USNR and a freshman at one of the largest universities in the U.S. A.

You were there for two terms, you did well academically, and lettered on the Cal track team. By June of 1944 the war in the Pacific was “going your way,” so new officers were not as needed as 8 months before.

You had grown up as a Methodist… actually went to the high school summer camp the summer before you entered the Navy and the University. You continued to go to church most Sundays, though you weren’t involved in other than worship services. You remember little to no discomfort in going to church, and you were certainly proud to be wearing the Navy uniform.

Then came the move down to UCLA, to the Naval ROTC, and close to your hometown and parents’ home. The war was going well for the USA, you were doing well in the university, you made both UCLA’s football and track teams, and you became a Phi Kappa Psi. You still went to church fairly regularly, but still with only the worship service weekly as your participation.

(Oh, yes, you did, before the transfer from Berkeley, apply for the Chaplain Corps. It would have been interesting to have been accepted, but that was not to be your life. I was aware of this, and I did consider it for you (and it would have been an interestingly different life), but I saw this as not as desirable of the way I led you.)

You did have some time aboard ship, so your Navy career was not all “college classrooms and fraternity parties.” But soon it was time for graduation after your B.S. degree was finished. You were ready for teaching and coaching, but… where? It soon was quite clear – Punahou School in Honolulu. You were someone John Fox wanted, you signed, you “sailed,” and you met Lenore. Your life was coming more to what you and I had planned for you.

You did well as a teacher, you had some success as a coach, and you “won” Lenore in “an apparent contest.” After some more “experience” and a doctorate from Stanford you were selected for a position at Stanford. You had been a Sunday School teacher at Central Union (now as a husband and father), but as a young assistant professor at Stanford you were ordained and elected as an Elder in the Menlo Park Presbyterian Church. And thus you have been, in four other Presbyterian Churches.

The position here at SIU was just right for you… and for Lenore and your family. You have been an active churchman for nearly 40 years, and now that important aspect of your life is over. I came to you in this rather “unorthodox Presbyterian way” over 21 years ago, and now I tell you that hearing Me in this unique way… and composing a quarterly Ruminations and sending it forth… are your special “services” to Me and to My mission here in the earth. I liked your use of Teachings this morning with the Breakfast Group, and I expect you to have other such opportunities in these last years of your life.