Last night was our annual Christmas Eve family time down-town Grand Rapids in the Campau Towers where we have a condo (now rented out) and thus have free access to the Campau Room, a big wonderful living-room space with kitchen. Besides our kids, John's mother and siblings and extended family joins us, coming and going as they take in the church services close by. As we talked and remembered, John's late colleague at Calvin College (and brother Jim's teacher) arose in the conversation. Stanley Wiersma was in some ways the Christian Reformed Garrison Kiellor--always poking fun of his heritage. It's my favorite kind of humor; if I can't laugh at my religious heritage (and John's), what good is it? One of my favorite Wiersma (aka Sietze Buning) poems, especially when John reads it aloud, is "Calvinist Sunday Dinner":
Wasn't that a good sermon, Gertrude?
Orthodox. Such a rich Jesus
and such a poor sinner.
And what poor sinners
we all are . . .
These potatoes are a little hard,
Gertrude, too hard for the side of my fork.
Hard to chew too. You say some rump-roast gravy's
coming. . . .
Yes, what poor sinners we all are.
And how Dominie mashed up those Catholics.
Deprived of grace. . . .
Pass the rolls
and butter
this way,
Gertrude.
--but they won't admit they're depraved. . . .
Great rump roast, Gertrude.
The knife slides
through it.
Yes, and when he got
to the cheap grace
of the Baptists. . . .
Only one-eighty per pound for choice
rump roast, Gertrude? I can't believe it. . . .
I need some more green beans, Gertrude. . . .
It's all that cheap grace . . . . they'll agree that they're desperately wicked. . . .
And then comes the backsliding. . . .
Pass the meat and potatoes again, Gertrude. . . .
What about a little of that a la mode on the pie, Gertrude. . . .
Of course, Catholics and Baptist are duck soup
compared to the liberals. Liberals think
they don't need grace at all.
My, what good pie,
Gertrude. . . .
Dominie knows how
to preach, doesn't he?
[Sietze Buning, Purpalaenie and Other Permutations, p. 66.]
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Kind Words from the Distant Past
It's been more than 30 years since I was awarded a Ph.D. in History at Northern Illinois University, and have had very little contact with the school since. It turns out that the History Department is trying to track down all of its doctoral grads and has been successful, but for me and 6 others. Part of my falling through the cracks relates to the age-old maiden name/married name conundrum. The department contacted my major professor and dissertation director Otto Olsen, now living in Florida. This is what he wrote back: "Ruth Tucker is one of most prolific PhDs we have had, but her work has largely been ignored, probably because of its religious focus. I would urge you simply to type Ruth Tucker into Google and you will get all the information you could desire. In addition to her significant publications, she has been an excellent teacher and very much embroiled in the struggle for women’s rights. In my estimation N.I.U should and would benefit from paying more attention and awarding more recognition to her achievements and activities." How incredibly kind and generous. He's a brilliant scholar and I accept his words as the highest compliment. I feared for a time that I wouldn't get my degree because of what seemed to be over-the-top demands, but in the end it worked out. And, I now recognize how critical his demands have been to my profession as an historian.
It's been more than 30 years since I was awarded a Ph.D. in History at Northern Illinois University, and have had very little contact with the school since. It turns out that the History Department is trying to track down all of its doctoral grads and has been successful, but for me and 6 others. Part of my falling through the cracks relates to the age-old maiden name/married name conundrum. The department contacted my major professor and dissertation director Otto Olsen, now living in Florida. This is what he wrote back: "Ruth Tucker is one of most prolific PhDs we have had, but her work has largely been ignored, probably because of its religious focus. I would urge you simply to type Ruth Tucker into Google and you will get all the information you could desire. In addition to her significant publications, she has been an excellent teacher and very much embroiled in the struggle for women’s rights. In my estimation N.I.U should and would benefit from paying more attention and awarding more recognition to her achievements and activities." How incredibly kind and generous. He's a brilliant scholar and I accept his words as the highest compliment. I feared for a time that I wouldn't get my degree because of what seemed to be over-the-top demands, but in the end it worked out. And, I now recognize how critical his demands have been to my profession as an historian.
Monday, December 13, 2010
EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL PAIN
Last week was not a good one---at least calculated by any standard of my life, though when I consider the problems in this world, mine seem very small. The emotional toll came with a broken business relationship---one that had seemed so promising but has just not worked out. We are committed to ending things amicably, but it still hurts an awful lot. I have another partner who will pick up the slack.
The physical problems didn't help matters, all culminating in a kidney stone (that passed very painfully on Friday), a hard fast fall on the ice on Saturday morning (that wracked my body from the back of my head to my jaws, neck, shoulders, ribs, hitting hardest on the tailbone), a flu or virus that caused chills, and now a cold, passed on to me by John. I was in bed most of yesterday. Dear John read to me despite his own raspy voice. We had read a poem on Walt Whitman in the latest issue of The New Yorker. That led us to my old American Literature textbook. He read introductions to poets and their poetry, including Walt Whitman and his "Leaves of Grass," Edgar Allen Poe, "Ulalume," "The Raven," William Cullen Bryant, "Thanatopsis," and poems by Robert Frost. What incredible wordsmiths these men were! How they soothed my soul during an otherwise miserable day.
Today I'm back at the business, not feeling well, but hopefully on the mend.
Last week was not a good one---at least calculated by any standard of my life, though when I consider the problems in this world, mine seem very small. The emotional toll came with a broken business relationship---one that had seemed so promising but has just not worked out. We are committed to ending things amicably, but it still hurts an awful lot. I have another partner who will pick up the slack.
The physical problems didn't help matters, all culminating in a kidney stone (that passed very painfully on Friday), a hard fast fall on the ice on Saturday morning (that wracked my body from the back of my head to my jaws, neck, shoulders, ribs, hitting hardest on the tailbone), a flu or virus that caused chills, and now a cold, passed on to me by John. I was in bed most of yesterday. Dear John read to me despite his own raspy voice. We had read a poem on Walt Whitman in the latest issue of The New Yorker. That led us to my old American Literature textbook. He read introductions to poets and their poetry, including Walt Whitman and his "Leaves of Grass," Edgar Allen Poe, "Ulalume," "The Raven," William Cullen Bryant, "Thanatopsis," and poems by Robert Frost. What incredible wordsmiths these men were! How they soothed my soul during an otherwise miserable day.
Today I'm back at the business, not feeling well, but hopefully on the mend.
Thursday, December 09, 2010
"YOUR ILK, MY ILK"
This morning John and I were having one of our weekly "your ilk, my ilk" spats. His ilk is the Christian Reformed Church---born and bred, 70 years of indoctrination. My ilk is more broadly evangelicalism and fundamentalism---parents who were on the fringe of the church, if that. One thing led to another in our morning conversation and I was telling him about an incident 10 years ago. The Dean of the Chapel at Calvin College who later became president of the seminary and presided over my being terminated (not fired as I referred to it----maybe that's another "your ilk" example) had invited me to lunch at Mountain Jacks, a nice restaurant in Grand Rapids. When the food came he said, "Let's pray." I bowed my head assuming he would pray. Nothing. Just silence. I've always regretted I didn't say in a very respectful way, "I'm sorry, I can't hear you." I didn't. As it turns out, John's ilk prays before meals in restaurants, but silently. My ilk prays out loud. I told John that my ilk is "not ashamed of the gospel" (Romans 1:16); John countered that his ilk does not do as the Pharisees do, making a public show. So, as usual, neither ilk prevailed. It's a stalemate.
An inquiring mind might wonder how a marriage holds up under such divisive religious differences. We compromise. In this case we skip the prayer altogether.
This morning John and I were having one of our weekly "your ilk, my ilk" spats. His ilk is the Christian Reformed Church---born and bred, 70 years of indoctrination. My ilk is more broadly evangelicalism and fundamentalism---parents who were on the fringe of the church, if that. One thing led to another in our morning conversation and I was telling him about an incident 10 years ago. The Dean of the Chapel at Calvin College who later became president of the seminary and presided over my being terminated (not fired as I referred to it----maybe that's another "your ilk" example) had invited me to lunch at Mountain Jacks, a nice restaurant in Grand Rapids. When the food came he said, "Let's pray." I bowed my head assuming he would pray. Nothing. Just silence. I've always regretted I didn't say in a very respectful way, "I'm sorry, I can't hear you." I didn't. As it turns out, John's ilk prays before meals in restaurants, but silently. My ilk prays out loud. I told John that my ilk is "not ashamed of the gospel" (Romans 1:16); John countered that his ilk does not do as the Pharisees do, making a public show. So, as usual, neither ilk prevailed. It's a stalemate.
An inquiring mind might wonder how a marriage holds up under such divisive religious differences. We compromise. In this case we skip the prayer altogether.
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
MY NOT-SO-GOLDEN RULE
I can't get these "Steps to happy relationships" to stay on my site. The title and 2 steps are scrawled in a child's handwriting with a silly stick figure on the bottom. 1. Do something (in secret) for someone that they didn't ask you to do/asked you not to do 2. Get upset when they don't understand that they are indebted to you. It's not nearly so funny without the illustration which is also found on one of Scot McNight's pages.
I can't get these "Steps to happy relationships" to stay on my site. The title and 2 steps are scrawled in a child's handwriting with a silly stick figure on the bottom. 1. Do something (in secret) for someone that they didn't ask you to do/asked you not to do 2. Get upset when they don't understand that they are indebted to you. It's not nearly so funny without the illustration which is also found on one of Scot McNight's pages.
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