"It's the Cinnamon Bear!"

   Back in the '30s and into the '40s, WGN radio in Chicago broadcast a 15-minute kids' program that ran from Thanksgiving to just before Christmass.  Called "The Cinnamon Bear," the 26 episodes followed Jimmy & Judy Barton, together with Paddy O'Cinnamon, as they entered a make-believe land where they met such characters as the Crazy Quilt Dragon, the Inkaboos, Penelope the Pelican, the Wintergreen Witch, and a host of others.  
The journey was taken to retrieve the Silver Star which was to be placed at the top of Jimmy & Judy's Christmass tree.

   Of course, it was a delightful children's story.  In the end, it turned out that Jimmy & Judy had dreamed this whole adventure in the attic of their home where their Christmass ornaments were stored.

  Sometime in the 1940s, Wieboldt's Department store in Chicago gave away a replica Silver Star to any kids that came into the store.  I dearly wished to have one of those stars, but, living 100 miles from Chicago, I wasn't about to be able to get one.

   Fast-forward to the late 1970s.  I now lived in Chicago and regularly listened to "Those Were the Days," a nostalgia old time radio program hosted by Chuck Schaden on Saturday afternoons for four hours.  Chuck regularly replayed "The Cinnamon Bear" on his show on the 4 Saturdays before Christmass.  I became addicted to the program all over--and got my young daughters interested in listening to it, too :-)

   And then it happened!  An announcement one Saturday on TWTD that Chuck had come into possession of a large number of mint-condition silver stars from the Wieboldt's days.  They would be on sale at his shop on a first-come, first served basis.  

   Needless to say, I hurried over to his store and purchased one of those stars.  

   Most years since then, the Silver Star has found a place at the top of our family Christmass tree.  This year is no different, as the picture shows.

   Good memories!       

Concordia Milwaukee's "Second Life"

For more than 30 years, Columbus Day week has been special for me as I head to Northern Wisconsin to spend a few days with a former prep school classmate and roommate.  We go fishing (if the weather permits), or we just "hang out" together.  It's a time to reconnect with someone I've known for almost 60 years.

The route I take to his home does not vary.  Once I've driven thru Milwaukee, I take back highways thru the Wisconsin countryside, enjoying autumn's colors and taking pictures of old Wisconsin barns (slowly disappearing from the landscape).

But my FIRST stop on the trip is ALWAYS at my alma mater--Concordia College Milwaukee (of blessed memory)--between 32nd and 33rd, Kilbourn and State Streets in Milwaukee.  Tho' the campus moved to a north Milwaukee suburb many years ago, the plot of land just mentioned is still my alma mater.  I stop here each year to walk around the campus, to remember the wonderful six years I spent here, and the give thanks for friendships that began here and have lasted for almost 60 years; for professors who modeled the life of servants of Christ and of Christ's church; and for values that were shared and instilled in me.

After Concordia left its former campus, the property was purchased by the Potawatomi Indian tribe and converted into the Indian Community School.  Several years ago, the Potawatomis moved their school to a far southern area of Milwaukee.

 About 18 months ago, something exciting began to take place on Concordia's "old campus."  Renovation of Wunder Dorm; building a new Data Holding Center; and renovation of the old classroom building are underway.

When I stopped at "Concordia" the morning of October 8, I met a remarkable CEO by name of Pepi Randolph.  Pepi graciously took me on a tour of the entire campus, much to my delight.  As we toured Wunder Dorm (the 3rd floor of which is now the office for the Potawatomi Business Development Corp); Pritzlaff Dorms A, B & C; the Refectory; the Library; and, finally, the old classroom building... memories of my six years on that wonderful campus washed over me with fondness, emotion and much joy.

Augie Rehwaldt's biology lab... "Pips" Zanow's physics classroom and lab... Room 9, where "Keats" Hattstaedt taught us ancient history in our freshman year... the chapel where we gathered morning and evening for devotions... the faculty room... the Refectory where we ate our meals family style and had pie on Tuesdays and Fridays every week... the rooms in the basements of the dorms that were barber shops, game rooms, publications rooms... the new snack bar in the basement of Pritzlaff C.

As we walked through these buildings, and the rooms that were in them, I could hear the voices that once echoed in them--the profs and the students--and the "ghosts" of years gone by.  I told Pepi stories of what I remembered happening in those buildings.  The stories helped Pepi  understand the great history of Concordia's life in Milwaukee a bit more clearly.

I documented the tour of the campus with pictures of the work that is going on right now.  You may access those pictures here.  And, if you're interested in checking out some historical information about Concordia, you can go here.

And, if you happen to be in the Milwaukee area... are a graduate of Concordia's "old" campus... and want to see a work in progress...  stop at the campus, take the elevator in Wunder Dorm to the third floor, and ask the receptionist if you can meet Pepi.  He'll be glad you stopped!

Remembering Dad

Dad's 46th birthday, June 15, 1956

  As I entered today's date and beginning mileage in my auto record book this morning, I was reminded that today is the 102nd anniversary of my dad's birth in Sodus, Michigan.
  Unfortunately for me (and the rest of my family), dad only lived another twelve years beyond the picture on the left.  We lost a wonderful dad and husband much too early in our lives.
  Several times, while I was growing up, dad's birthday anniversary fell on Father's Day (it's close this year).  Then, it was always a question of "do I get him a birthday present or a father's day present?"  Honestly, I don't remember HOW I resolved that issue :-)
  As Dad's birthday anniversary and Father's Day closely coincide again this year, I remember what a patient man my dad was.  Rarely did I ever hear him raise his voice in anger, tho' there were times when such action would have been justified.  I remember my dad as a man who wasn't afraid to tackle a difficult problem, whether it was to find a way to finance the new school that my home church built in 1952, or dig a water well next to the garage so my sibs and I could have a regular water fountain during the summer.  Dad encouraged me by way of example.  I'll never forget his words to me, right after my wife and I bought our first house in St Louis, and mom and dad came for a visit.  After supper, we walked around the property and dad took it all in.  Finally, he said, "Well, Bob, I think you and Margaret made a good deal!"  And that was his word of encouragement.
  I wish dad could have been with us many more years than he was.  I know I would have gained a lot more wisdom from him.  But, I'm grateful for the years he was my dad and for all I learned from him.
  Happy Birthday, Dad!

A Year's Difference

A Year's Difference



One year ago, Chicago was digging out from the third largest snowfall in the city's history--23 inches. The storm began on January 31 and didn't end until the morning of Groundhog Day.

One year later, Chicago basks in the 10th warmest winter we've had.

The pictures above show similar scenes in front of our condo in Oak Park at roughly the same time in the morning on February 2, 2011 and February 2, 2012.

Advent Vespers

It's the First Sunday of Advent once again, that season that has changed--liturgically speaking--from the days when I was a kid. In those days, the color was purple; the mood was penitential; there were no flowers; we did not sing "alleluia." It was, in effect, a mini-Lent.

That has changed since Vatican II. Advent is now a time of hope and anticipation. The color is blue. Our look is to the return of our Lord at the end of time. And, if we happen to make it to December 24/25, we'll again celebrate the anniversary of our Lord's first coming in the flesh at Bethlehem.

Advent has changed a great deal for me since we arrived in Chicago in 1976. Sometime in the early 80s, I happened to see an announcement for Advent Vespers at the Cathedral of the Holy Name (aka "Holy Name Cathedral") at State and Superior Streets in Chicago. What caught my eye was the fact that Vespers was to be sung with the use of Gregorian chant. That intrigued my wife and me. Though we attended on a Sunday late afternoon in 1983 (probably for the first time; it's the earliest service folder I have in my file), we didn't start participating in Advent Vespers until about 1990.

Since that time, Advent Vespers has become a "must" part of our Advent devotional life. With the exception of Choir anthems, there is little difference in the service from year to year. We know our parts pretty much by heart. But, it's the quiet time we spend at prayer, in the surroundings of a magnificent cathedral, that becomes a refuge from the busyness of the world's preparations for "their" celebration of Christmass.

And so, this afternoon at 3:30 we were in our "usual" pew in the cathedral for the half-hour organ concert that precedes Vespers. Then, shortly after 4 pm, we heard the handbell announce the tone for the solo voice to sing the O Antiphon for Advent I, O Sapientia... "O Wisdom, you came forth from the mouth of the Most High, and reach from one end of the earth to another; mightily and sweetly ordering all things: come and teach us the way of prudence."

And then the Gallican Chant, "Alleluia! I look from afar. I see the power of God coming and a cloud covering the whole earth. Alleluia"

Once more, I am taken beyond myself into the awesome presence of the One on whom we wait, even our Lord Jesus Christ.

A wonderful evening at prayer. If you're in the Chicago area, you might want to come and see and share in the wonderful opportunity. Each Advent Sunday ... Organ concert at 3:30 ... Advent Vespers at 4:00.

Easter Eggs

This morning I carried out a "ritual" that I started about five years ago when my granddaughter had just turned three. I had bought empty plastic Easter eggs which I intended to fill with things that a three-year old could eat: marshmallows, Fruit Loops, etc. On my way home from Easter Vigil that Saturday night, I stopped at the local Jewel to get my "supplies."

The next morning, before leaving for worship, I hid the eggs in obvious places in our condo. When my daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter came over for Easter dinner later that day, Sophia found all the eggs and had a great time opening them and discovering what "goodies" Grandpa had put in them.

Five years later, Sophia has a four-year-old brother who also gets involved in the Easter egg hunt. And, we've grown from just a dozen or so eggs to many, many more. To solve the problem of one kid getting more than another, Grandpa has decided that each child gets three different colors of eggs. That way, they can pick up as many as they find, but at the end of the "hunt," eggs are divided by color; each kid gets exactly the same.

The eggs are all filled--with mini-marshmallows, fruit snacks, goldfish crackers, little boxes of raisins, jelly beans, Fruit Loops, and some other "goodies." I won't hide them until tomorrow morning. It's great fun and definitely "grandpa's thing."

There are special surprises in six of the eggs: grandpa empties out the loose change bucket in his office and put that change in six of the eggs.

I hope I'm able to carry on this tradition for a good many years to come.

The Baptism of our Lord

Early in my retirement, my wife and I were privileged to receive an invitation from the Bishop of the Protestant Christian Church of Bali to serve one of its English-speaking congregations on that Indonesian island. For three months, we lived among the Balinese people near Kuta Beach (on the Indian Ocean) and served the congregation in Nusa Dua.

For three months we experienced a very different culture from our own. We learned of the openness and gentleness of the people of Bali, particularly the Hindu population (which predominates in Bali).

One of the remarkable people we met was a Balinese man by the name of Ketut Lasia. Ketut had grown up in a Hindu family who, by his own admission, were simple rice-farmers. Ketut wanted no part of farming; he wanted to be a painter. At age 18 he moved from his family and moved to the home of a painter in his village. From him, Ketut learned how to do Balinese paintings. He also "eavesdropped" on conversations that occurred between his Hindu teacher and friends of his teacher (who were also Christians). The conversations did not begin to make sense to Ketut until years later when he met a Dutch pastor who began to plant the seed of the gospel in Ketut.

In 1967 Ketut heard for the first time God's call to him. Another year of conversations resulted in Ketut's request for baptism in 1968, a decision which resulted in Ketut's complete isolation from his family and friends. Ketut now considered how he might honor God and proclaim the gospel. He was led to the decision to use his artistic ability to paint individual scenes from the gospel accounts, and to do so in a Balinese context, as though Jesus had lived and taught in Bali. In this way, painting became Ketut's means for telling of Jesus and proclaiming the Good News.

During our stay in Bali, my wife and I were able to visit Ketut in his home in Denpasar. His "studio" was located in his home, and there he had displayed the many paintings he had done that told the story of many aspects of Jesus' life. Particularly impressive to us were his paintings of Jesus' birth, baptism by John, last supper and crucifixion. With Ketut's permission, I took digital photos of his paintings.

On the Eve of the Baptism of our Lord, it seemed a good time to share Ketut's Balinese rendition of Jesus' baptism. I hope his rendition provides you with new insights into the Biblical account of Jesus' baptism.