As Gerald and I entered
Giant City State Park with the green of huge trees blanketing both
sides of the road, I felt both anticipation and nostalgia. Here it
was that we used to come for Baptist Student Union retreats from
nearby Southern Illinois University. Memories of those days started
as we arrived for the 24th reunion of Baptist Student
Union. This event was begun by a few 1940s alumni in someone's
kitchen having so much fun that they decided they ought to plan to
meet again the next year and invite all their decade's BSU alums.
Eventually the 1950 and 1960 BSUers were invited, and now the older
alumni are mostly gone. We probably need to start recruiting 1970s
kids! Gerald and I were relaxed because we were even a mite early
after keeping my Carbondale dental appointment followed by some
successful shopping.
We came to the lovely rustic
lodge created during the 1930s Depression proving again that good
things can come out of bad times. Beverly Walker and Betty Arnold
greeted us with smiles as we entered and received lovely programs and
even a memory paper full of questions to jog them. Name tags to hang
around our necks had large first names to help our aging eyes
recognize each other. I didn't immediately see anyone I knew. After
a foray past the stuffed buffalo to check out the shelf of books by
local authors, I returned to the leather couches. My seat mate was a
Audrey Deppe, whom I had not met. That conversation was one of the
reunion highlights for me as we found out we'd both lived at Woody
Hall the year it opened, and we both shared stop and start careers
interspersed with baby and child care just as so many women in our
generation did. I learned that Roger had been in administration with
the Saint Charles, MO, schools, and Audrey laughingly told me how she
worked herself down (not up) from fourth grade to kindergarten, her
specialty both by training
and choice. That
conversation gave me more confirmation on the importance of preparing
children for a lifetime of successful learning.
When I became aware of a man
on the opposite couch, somehow I heard he was Al Fasol. In Fall
1954, Al had been a student editor in George Dennison's journalism
class as well as in Alice Hoye's speech class when I did my student
teaching at West Frankfort High School. Al and the late Richard
Darby, also an editor, were the only two student names I remembered.
Al said he was in that speech class to overcome fear. He explained
his family moved down from Chicago when he was in seventh grade and
he was so shy that he took a lower grade in English class rather than
read his essay aloud. (I bet it was an A essay too.) Miss Hoye
helped him overcome that fear of public speaking, and later he began
to preach as well as do radio announcing. He remembered coming down
to preach at tiny Ware Baptist Church with the late Lucien Bozarth in
1960. He was dissatisfied with his preparation and consequently with
his sermon, but he said he learned an important lesson about the need
to prepare. Ware was our church then because Gerald was farming
Lucien's mother and uncle's farm in the Mississippi River bottoms.
Later Al was with Marion's Station WGGH from 1960-63. He left just
as we came to farm in the Marion area. I was delighted to catch up
with a former student, but he spoke with so much modesty that I did
not guess his many degrees and his 32-year career in Fort Worth as an
outstanding preaching professor and that he would be our main speaker
on Friday.
As time for dinner
approached, we were invited into the reserved dining room. The hall
way was crowded, but I was able to visit a bit with Jane Walker Sims
from Harrisburg. When I asked about Richard Stewart, she explained
he had not been able to come because he had broken a leg in a golf
cart accident. She'd been to see him before she came. She asked about
my sister Rosemary Martin Parks, age 90, and her husband Phil, and I
could tell her they were good down in Amarillo. (They still cook
supper every Friday night for their kids and grand-kids and whoever
wants to show up which can be 10-20 people.) Beside Jane were a
younger couple whose name tags said Robert and Marilyn Parks, and he
explained he was Phil's nephew. I was so disoriented that even when
Marilyn said their son was named Phil, I did not catch on this was
Dr. Bob Parks and Marilyn Scarborough Parks, whom I once knew as Curt
Scarborough's teen-age sister. Later Ken Cannon introduced them
since this was their first reunion and told us they would have to
leave early since Bob had duty early the next morning. As they left,
Bob handled the old joke about doctors practicing with good humor,
and Ken hoped they would return next year.
We had been blessed to find
ourselves at table with Marc and Doris McCoy and Earl and Delores
Dungey. Marc is a graduate of Eastern Illinois University and was
active in BSU there. He began attending the reunion to bring his
late father, but he has become one of our most ardent supporters. The
SIU yearbook exhibit he brings each year is just one contribution.
Marc works at an Indianapolis bank, and Doris is a nurse at the
Methodist Hospital there. I so enjoyed getting acquainted with her
and also with Delores Dungey. Gerald and Earl's paths cross, but
Delores and I had never visited even though we live close in rural
Marion. She is a sister to one of the Emery brothers I do know, and I
learned more of the history of their earlier skating rink that burned
down before we came and where her 16th birthday party took
place. Earl had mowed their yard before they came because they were
leaving next day on a bus tour to Maine. That is how they travel
because Earl says every thing is planned and taken care of. Among
other places, they've been to New Orleans, Boston, and Washington,
D.C.
Music was an important part
of the reunion as it was when we were in BSU. Even before the
blessing, Barb Eidson played and introduced our theme song “The Way
We Were.” In the absence of Darrell Molen, Marc led the blessing,
and then table by table we chose from the bountiful buffet serving a
country dinner menu, which featured dumplings and their famous fried
chicken.
I had been looking forward
to our annual visit with the Molens. Roberta Hollada, who graduated
from Mt. Vernon High School with Betty, explained to me that at their
recent reunion, somehow Betty's wheel chair hit a bump and she was so
injured she had to be hospitalized. Roberta had talked to her this
week on the phone and Betty has recovered enough for therapy.
We were also missing Wendell
and Mary Garrison, and it was explained Wendell had to cancel as he
preached the funeral for Keith Stanford. Copies of Wendell's fifth
devotional book A Joyful Journey through Philippians were
there. We came home with two to add to his others on our shelves,
and Gerald is already reading his roommate's latest book.
A varied program followed
dinner with Ken Cannon as master-of-ceremonies. Bob and Oleta
Barrows led the Confessions Game, and Gene and Ginger Wells answered
questions to see how much in agreement they were. We learned they
agreed that Ginger was the better driver. Gerald thought perhaps this
was the result of an extra long trip Bob took them on as they
returned from the now annual school-year trek to Georgia where they
enjoy helping out with grand-kids while their daughter teaches.
Ginger asked for prayers for her she drive through Atlanta on Sunday.
Becky Searle, Ginger Wells,
Roger Deppe, and Harlan Highsmith sang “All in the April Evening,”
a hymn Becky remembered was sung by the choir each spring at Walnut
Street Church. Oleta Barrow performed as “Eski Honey.” Then Nada
Jo Fuqua explained that thirty-five years ago she had been Eliza
Doolittle, Terry had been Professor Higgens, and his mother was Mrs.
Higgens in their Kentucky community's production of My Fair Lady.
Then Nada Jo sang “Wouldn't It
Be Loverly” followed by Terry's masterful rendition of “Hymn to
Him.” Ernie Standerfer performed his famous “Sam Shovel”
routine before group singing of fun songs led by Bob Barrow and
Charlie Baker with Barb Eidson at the piano. (Thanks to Doris McCoy
for use of her electric piano for two days and to Marc who probably
carried it in and set it up.) Barb led us in singing “The Way We
Were” before Bill Eidson gave the evening address on “Memories of
BSU.”
Bill,
who had a career teaching history at Ball State University in
Indiana, told of being a first generation college student who was
welcomed into Doyle Dorm, where he found encouragement and life long
friends. A job in the cafeteria helped finances but included mashing
huge quantities of potatoes with equipment sending up steam in his
face that did not help him stay awake as he went on to his first
history class. Being a diligent worker, he and his roommates decided
one Saturday morning to really clean their room. They moved furniture
out of the way and prepared a bucket of hot soapy water, which they
then splashed on their floor. Two irate resident fellows from the
room below them appeared quickly at their door complaining about the
water coming down and putting out their ceiling light. I suspect
they left floor cleaning to the janitor after that. Bill shared
other memories, and then he encouraged the audience to share theirs
and gave us categories to prompt us. People told how the inspiring
Chester Swor visited noon day chapel and how other chapel services
usually by students provided peace and support in the middle of the
school day.
Not all
memories were serious. Johnson Hall girls made some confessions
including rolling coke bottles down the hall to upset a strict house
mother. Another Doyle Dorm story was about the room that put a bucket
of water over a door to plunge down on a planned victim. Instead
President George Johnson showed up to invite one of the young men to
supply the pulpit in an area church. These mighty nervous boys did
not want Dr. Johnson to know of their mischief, but neither did they
want him to find out by bumping the door. They escaped calamity when
Dr. Johnson left unharmed, but the ministerial student had to make a
trip to his office the next day to find out where and when that
supply sermon was to take place.
It is
always fun to hear stories of romance, and some were shared. My
favorite was Delores “Dee” Barrow's telling of deserting her girl
friends to sit by herself in the cafeteria hoping Tom Gwaltney would
take the bait. Her plan worked, and they have had many years of
marriage as a result. Someone remembered Bill Fulkerson and Carol
Stuckey's unique story from last year. Bill climbed a tree, and when
Carol walked under, he began a spooky rendition of Carol, Carol,
Carol, Carol Stuckey. That plan worked also.
After
many more memories were stirred, Bob Barrow and Carol Smith presented
“Spirit of BSU” written by Archie Mosley and Bob Entrekin, our
state BSU director who meant so much to many. The choir for the next
day gathered to practice with Barb Eidson while the rest of us had a
chance for a few more visits before we left for our homes or park
cabins.
Memories
of so many people and so many long ago events came into our minds
during the evening that I figured if a neuroscientist had invented an
instrument to record all the ding, ding, dinging in our brain cells,
we would have probably exploded the thing with overloaded synapses as
those rusty memory cells raced down neural pathways. Back at the
farm, I was tired. I usually sleep well, but I was over stimulated
from the evening and wondered if I could sleep. Fortunately, soon I
was out of it. However, at 2 a.m., I am not sure if it was fortunate
or unfortunate because memories surfaced and flooded my brain. Maybe
I needed to remember those things. In a notebook filled with letters
from those who could not make the reunion, I had read my Johnson
Hall roommate Fay Eddings' note saying she could not come. Of course,
she couldn't drive that far with neuropathy. My mind reviewed her
successful Illinois career teaching Spanish among other things, and
how I read about her being awarded newspaper faculty sponsor of the
year. She told me once by phone about a mission trip to somewhere in
South America and chatted excitedly about her participation in her
local church and, yes, she still supports the Cardinals. She is now
living with a niece who works for Asbury College in Wilmore, KY.
That led me to thinking about our other roommate Alta Ruth Smith, who
was one of the sweetest girls I ever knew. Her wardrobe was limited,
but her closet was as neat as she was. I remembered her letter to me
from the nursing home in my hometown when we were still fairly young
asking me to let her come live with us, and I had to write that was
not possible.
I
thought I should go back to sleep. Silently I mentally said: Sleep.
Sleep. Sleep. But instead I found myself recalling Warren
Littleford. He had just graduated when I arrived, but I soon heard
much about this football hero and passionate young preacher. Later
he came for a revival at our chapel and I was able to hear him
preach. He visited dorms, and I believe Dick Gregory, another campus
standout, may have come to that revival. The only other off-campus
speaker I remembered was a woman who had just been named Illinois
mother-of-the-year. I am sure she gave us good advice on marriage
and rearing children, but I only remember her saying as she sniffed
her little nose that it was far better to be single than to be
married to some people. I have quoted that on more than one occasion
to a young woman. Noon day chapel gave many of us our first
experience giving a devotional. I cringed as I remembered that for
some odd reason I once chose to speak on Peter's and Judas' failures.
While I have always identified and learned from Peter, I've remain
puzzled by Judas. Certainly I was not theologically prepared to talk
about Judas (then or now) , and I have no idea what I said about him
in that devotional, which maybe is for the best.
Sleep,
sleep, sleep I chanted again and again but I kept remembering dear
long ago people. One BSU retreat at Giant City a gang of us went
hiking with flashlights as we hiked through the streets between the
giant rocks. Sitting on the lichen covered rocks, someone pointed a
flashlight up the limbs of the nearest tree, and we had a spontaneous
devotional service. The only one I can remember on that hike was the
lateGail Crockett, who went by Dave after he came back from studying
in France. He had a successful music career and once came back to
Marion to live. Our daughter Katherine was blessed to take voice
lessons from him. Gerald and I went to the open house for Dave and
his bride, and they came out for dinner at the farm. Dave realized
that as a child he had once come with his parents for a prayer
meeting in that house. His twin Dale taught at Berea College in
Kentucky and wrote a book while there. After retiring, he and wife
Ruth (Bays) lived in Florida, and I caught up with them on the
Internet. When they moved north, I lost tract again. Ruth asked me
to write the story of their wedding for the society page in Marion's
newspaper. Sleep, sleep, sleep.
I
watched the clock go to 3 and to 4 and later. I am blessed that I can
rest in bed awake and not hurt even though I get up stiff and in pain
every morning. So I told myself to relax and enjoy the memories and
that were probably from spots in my brain used for the first time in
years. What a good mental exercise! Finally I fell asleep and woke
with a strange dream when it was time to get dressed and hurry to
Friday's reunion. Fortunately, Gerald knew a short cut through the
country and we arrived in time for the coffee and breakfast goodies.
Tables
were decorated with candles and autumn items given for our use by
Ramona Ambrose, Sharon and Cal Reynolds' daughter. We returned to
our same table with Doris and Marc and the Dungeys. Joe and Nellie
Claxton of Mount Vernon had missed Thursday because of the Stanford
funeral, and they joined us as did Joseph Hargis of Ellis Grove,who
has retired from teaching in the Cobden high school and knew Gerald's
cousins there.. The Claxtons had both Cobden and Grand Tower
connections, so there was no shortage of conversation topics. They
knew Elaine Dickson's and Jay Hauser”s parents, who were close
friends of Gerald's parents. I am always fascinated by the web of
connections that strangers often have.
The
morning session started with more time for shared memories led by
Marc and Lora Blacwell-Kern carrying the mikes. I loved Lora's
stories of high school life in Carbondale. She did not go to teen
town but rather played ping pong and hung out with BSUers at the
Foundation. College students at Walnut Street Church shared
after-service social time with the teens. Lora was our first leader
to work with internationals at SIUC, and she later had a career
teaching in Anna. She lives a nature-filled life on a farm at the
end of a rural road near Anna. I visited her once to take books she
had recruited at our reunions to send to other nations.
After
the memory sharing, we worshiped with music led by Bob Barrow and
Charlie Baker with Carol Smith at the piano. Barb Eidson and Carol
gave us the reunion choir singing “Precious Memories” and the
less familiar “And Can It Be.”
We were
ready for Dr. Al Fasol's message. He talked a bit about his work
encouraging young preachers in their careers and his emphasis on
preparation. And then he told a story. One of his Doyle Dorm
roommates was shot down over Viet Nam and was imprisoned there for
five years and seven months until his release in March 1973. Tom was
not a Christian and could not believe there was a God. When Tom was
finally back home, they met and talked, but Al mostly listened
because Tom needed to talk. Down through the years, they met up as
often as possible, and Tom continued not believing. Al continued to
talk, listen, explain, and encourage. Finally Tom came to believe
there was a God; but after what he had experienced, he did not want
anyone controlling him. So while he liked the part about being
saved, he did not like the Jesus as Lord part. Years passed as the
roommates stayed in touch. And then the day came when Tom decided
to accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior. He and Al became brothers in
Christ as well as dorm brothers.
After
“Wonderful Grace of Jesus” was sung by Bob Barrows and Carol
Smith, Ken Cannon led us in a short business meeting. The current
reunion committee with co-chair couples, Ken and Jo Nell, Cal and
Sharon Reynolds were retained, along with members Lora
Blackwell-Kern,, Bob and Oleta Barrow, Marc McCoy, Carol Smith, and
Gene and Ginger Wells. Ken invited anyone who wanted to join the
committee for next year to do so. People discussed the pros and cons
of meeting at Giant City rather than at a church. It was agreed to
let the committee choose next year's location. Before we were
dismissed to give those in park cabins time to check out, every woman
was able to pick from the lovely colorful circle of flowers on a
display table, and we learned these were actually a holder for a
candle. Betty Arnold had made two tiny pumpkin flower arrangements
as door prizes for each table.
A very
good soup and sandwich lunch was served us in the public dining room
at noon before we came back together for the final session. As Carol
Smith played softly, Gene Wells led our memorial service honoring the
names of those who died during the past year. People were invited to
mention memories as names were announced. To conclude, Bob Barrow
and Carol sang “Precious Memories.”
Finally
we heard the afternoon address “Keep Making Memories” by Ginger
Wells. In a short time,she presented much wisdom and inspiration
encouraging us to keep engaged in service and life. I needed this
since now that I am old and tired, I really do not relish change and
new experiences as I used to. Ginger gave us practical suggestions on
achieving new memories. She noted we might need to overcome shyness
in new surroundings and be willing to make the first move. She told
how as they left their beloved home and church here in Illinois and
started a new life style, she and Gene determined they would make new
friends and live life as fully as possible in Georgia. Proof of the
value of that decision came when Gene received eight birthday cards
from new friends. As we continue to age, we may have to be more open
to change in order to keep making good memories.
It was
time to go home, and Cal Reynolds led our closing prayer, Barb
Eidson once more presented our theme song “The Way We Were” as
the postlude. All that was left were goodbye hugs.
I felt
reaching into the past and resurrecting old memories buried in my
brains was helpful to my mental health. I liked hearinng others' good
memories from BSU days. Remembering who I used to be perhaps makes
me a little more knowledgeable of who I am today. I did make new
friends and new memories at this year's reunion. Next year's reunion
promises opportunity for making more.
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