Yesterday was an extraordinary thought provoking day for me. The morning worship services provided my primary need to write this response today. After church I went to brunch with my wife and my wonderful mother-in-law who now lives with us. I attended the ordination to ministry of a friend and classmate during the afternoon, and finished the day with our weekly family dinner at the home of our youngest, her husband, their 3 and 1/2 year old daughter, and a very exuberant and playful puppy, Annie. It was a day of abundance, celebration, and joy!

As I reflected on the day, however, my thoughts kept returning to the morning worship services and especially to the sermon that friend and colleague Jim Rigby delivered. As I have before – I strongly urge everyone who reads this blog to go to the website – http://www.staopen.org – later this week, follow the tab to Sermons, and listen to/watch this powerful sermon.

During the sermon Jim reflected on the multiple stories that have recently headlined the news in a number of communities around the country, and my mind immediately shifted to a number of towns that I knew well where it is/was clearly understood that people of color should not be in the town after sundown. I don’t remember it ever being a topic for open public discussion, but from time to time someone would quietly remind others not to be concerned since “those” people “knew” that they must to be gone prior to sundown. It took me years to begin to understand that, in fact, I was also a part of a white privilege society. Later in life, it did not take me long to speak out for justice on behalf of women, or LGBTQ people, people who had been made invisible by substance addiction, or others who lived in oppression and injustice. After all I did not experience any of the demonstrations, peace marches, sit-ins or other protests where I had lived. It simply was not an issue where I grew up – and now I know why. It was not an issue because we were carefully protected by powerful silent invisible barriers designed to keep us from needing to ever learn about white privilege.

I finally began to understand a little during the years I taught in a private high school in Birmingham, Alabama that had been open to students without regard to race, ethnicity, or religious affiliation since the schools founding in the 1950s. However, only very recently have I been challenged to see my privilege at the expense of those who lived in ongoing oppression and injustice. I no longer am able to remain silent! I know that I have much more to learn and understand, and I hope that I am afforded opportunities to speak publicly about this matter. I pray that I will take the actions that I need to take to raise a voice of equality for all.

Again yesterday in Jim’s sermon I was stuck by the power of the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., when Jim read the following excerpt from Dr. King’s “Letter From the Birmingham Jail”: I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.

http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html

Jim also made reference to portion of the text of one of the beloved Christmas Carols:

It came upon the midnight clear that glorious song of old, from angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold: “Peace on the earth good will to all, from heaven’s all-gracious One”: the word in solemn stillness lay to hear the angels sing.

And you, beneath life’s crushing load, whose forms are bending low, who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow, look new, for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing: O, rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.

For lo, the days are hastening on, by prophets seen of old, when with the ever-circling years shall come the time foretold, when peace shall over all the earth its ancient splendors fling, and the whole world give back the song which now the angels sing.

We must remember that true peace – true shalom – is much much more than just the absence of war. Let us all be active bearers of love and reconciliation for all of the continuing creation.

Grace and peace

So very many things about Augusta that I remember fondly . . . after all I was in Augusta before the Plaza existed . . . even before the Walmart on Ohio . . . there were only two elementary schools in those days Garbage Garfield and Stinkin Lincoln (if my memory is correct Robinson was named for the person serving as Superintendent of Schools when my mother was hired to teach second grade, and I went to school with some named Ewat) . . . Ballinger’s was still a cafeteria . . . the Safeway building was still a Safeway grocery store . . . before the bowling alley . . . you remember back in the good ol’ days when you could tell you were close to Augusta by simply rolling down your car windows (thank you refinery) – and – oh yes – don’t forget the taste of the water.

There was Lehr’s (except on Sundays) – and – Dairy Queen – and Dariette and Miller’s Five – my oh my how did we ever grow up without a McDonald’s or a Pizza Hut – then along came A&W.

Somehow we managed to get an education in the old junior high and high school buildings.

A huge Christmas tree in the middle of State Street.

Streets paved with bricks

We all learned how to fold newspapers the way that the Augusta Daily Gazette was folded so it could make to any porch in town from a bicycle going full speed.

Driver’s ed in Garvin Park with that old manual transmission car – the ditches along the sides of the road will never be the same.

When the big siren sounded – knowing whether it was a fire, a tornado, or just a weekly test – and – of course – the refinery whistle.

Moyle Field – used for baseball in the summer and ice skating in the winter.

Our concert halls were gymnasiums – thanks to Len Hudson for recently unearthing the article from the paper about the hootenanny in the old high school gym – I certainly remember the event – but – I confess – I don’t ever remember agreeing to be known as the Augustones.

Taco Tico – we had unusual tastes in Mexican food in those days

Memorial Day celebrations at Elmwood Cemetery.

We played good basketball in Augusta – and I was one of many who learned to shoot free throws underhanded – what we called “granny style.” As I recall – we were never quite as good with football as we were with basketball. Stand up and cheer . . .

Attending the dance parties at Channel 12 in Wichita.

Driving miles and miles and miles – up State Street – then down State Street – then U-turn and back the other way and over and over and over and over.

And certainly no list would be complete without the many memories from the Augusta theaters – the classic art deco indoor theater downtown and the wonderful drive-in in the summer months. Thanks to the Bisagnos for all of the wonderful movies. Fantasia was one of the first movies I saw downtown.

As Dorothy reminds us in the Wizard of Oz – “there’s no place like home”

Please add to my list!

It was a real honor to be selected as one of the people from Augusta to attend the American Legion Boys State during the summer following my junior year in high school. I went to Boys State not fully knowing what to expect. Briefly – the participants were divided into two parties then each group spent time making nominations for the various offices, holding a brief campaign, and then an election. Somehow – and I really do not remember how – I ended up being nominated for and selected to be the leader for one of the two parties. We worked hard and we did fairly well but we did not win the race for governor the most prized election on the ballot.

The evening activity at the end of the day that the election results were announced was a talent show. I remember feeling fairly down at the time – after all – we had lost the election, but I decided to go ahead with my planned entry for the talent show – before leaving Augusta for the event I had decided to perform a duet version of When the Saints Go Marching In with me playing both the part for the trumpet and the part for the piano.

Detour! – one thing that was very valuable that evening was hearing – and later learning – the version of Cinderella known as Rindercella – “you know Rindercella who lived in the big hark douse with her mean old mepstother and her two sisty-uglers who sat around magging readizines and cheating oclates while Rindercella did things like flooping the moor” – which was performed by one of the other Boys Staters. I learned it as quickly as possible and it has been a mainstay of my collection of performance bits ever since.

Following the talent show those of us who had attended the Kansas Boys State were asked to vote for two people to represent Kansas at Boys Nation later that same summer. Boys Nation is a gathering of two people from each of the states who gather, learn and enjoy activities in the style of the United States Senate – two representatives from each state.

When we gathered to hear the results of the election I was thrilled to hear that the person my party had nominated for governor had been selected to attend Boys Nation even though he had lost the election for governor. At that point in time my assumption was that the other person to represent Kansas would be the person who had won the race for governor. Much to my total astonishment my name was called as the second person to represent Kansas at Boys Nation. What a complete surprise! What an honor!!

The Boys Nation gathering was everything I hoped it would be and more. Our designated host was The Honorable Senator Frank Carlson who represented the state of Kansas in the United States Senate from 1950 through 1969. The other Kansas Senator at the time was James B. Pearson who served from 1962 through 1978. One highlight was having lunch with Senator Carlson in the Senate Dining Room – of course we enjoyed the famous Senate Bean Soup.

It was a true joy to represent Augusta at these events. Another great memory was the opportunity to get to know the members of the American Legion Post in Augusta – people who had served with distinction and valor. I will always be grateful for their sponsorship of these two memorable events.

This is certainly one incredible opportunity that came my way from growing up in a smaller community in south central Kansas – a genuine and unexpected honor!! As Rindercella would say: Some of our smubbles and trall and some of our blubbles are trig, but if we don’t have any troubles – how in the world will we ever blecognize our ressings!!

WARNING: This post may contain information about me that some of you would never guess to be true – but – I assure you that every word is true.

By the beginning of my senior year in high school I was in the midst making decisions that would ultimately determine who I would be as an adult. Fortunately, for me, a new person entered my life at the beginning of that year, and that person would prove to be a valued and compassionate resource in my decision making process – both then and now . . . and there and here.

That was the year that David Joy came to Augusta to be the high school choir director. It was easy for me to connect with Mr. Joy and to value his ideas about the path I might follow in college. He made a profound impact on my life then and there – and – in a very unexpected situation – he also did more recently. When I moved to Austin in May, 2001, early on I connected with the music program at Covenant Presbyterian Church where my new spouse, Mary Helen, had already served for a number of years. Much to my surprise, a member of the choir here at Covenant was David Joy – YES – the same David Joy. We quickly realized and acknowledged that in our earlier connection with both had more hair as evidenced by an article in the Augusta Gazette with a front page picture of me, David, and Joan White. For a number of years I knew exactly where my copy of that newspaper was – but, somehow, I no longer no where it is. If anyone has a copy of that article I would love to have a copy. Also, if anyone knows the current whereabouts for Joan I would love to have that information as well.

One thing that became apparent when David and I reconnected was that we were closer in age than I thought we were when we were both in Augusta. I started to describe our earlier relationship in terms of David being a very young first year teacher when he came to Augusta, while I was an old senior in high school.

David’s wisdom and experience was also very helpful when we were considering my retirement possibilities here in Austin just a few years ago.

I hear some of you saying – so what is the information that you warned us about at the beginning of this post? Early during my time in high school I worked as a camp counselor at a church camp in Colorado. One summer my call to ministry was very clear to me – but clearly not to my mother who was determined that I would become a musician. Once I was able to resign myself to this decision I willingly tried to give myself over to the idea of being a musician. However, over the years it became clear to me that as a result, many of the people who told me that they loved me, actually, loved me for what I did rather than who I was. That was hard to realize and very hard to accept (more about this in later posts that will talk about those hard years). For many I had become a perform-on-demand trick- pony. My response to the spotlight had changed from glamor and desire to “oh no, here we go again.” Happily, now that I have retired I have returned to active music making with the full knowledge that at this point in my life it is my true calling (more about that in a later post about the future).

My calling to become a pastor was indeed fulfilled several years later than I had originally hoped – I entered seminary when I was 58 years old, graduating when I was 61. I was ordained and installed in my first call in March, 2009, continuing there until the end of 2012 when I was able to retire.

I first knew David Joy as a wonderful young teacher, and I now know him as a fully mature human being who has followed his calling from the Creator. He taught me so much by being providing a marvelous example of what it means to follow your true calling to become the person that you are intended to be! For that I am very grateful!

David and his entire family have become dear friends and colleagues – they continue to enrich my life!!

It was on the southwest corner of the old high school building – had clearly been added several years after the completion of the original building – had its own outside entrance – I considered it to be my second home – the band room – domain of Max Hendrickson.

From the earliest days of my sixth grade year I had a deep appreciation for Mr. Hendrickson – something about him – always kind – expecting us to do our best but never in any manner other than courteous – an encourager – sometimes we were not as prepared as he would have liked for us to be – but we all managed to get through it all together. Now, years later, I have experienced a multitude of different band directors (including some of this country’s very best) and my appreciation for Max Hendrickson has continued to grow. He provided me with a very solid foundation for my future work. We were all blessed beyond our wildest imagination.

Some special memories for me –

My first experience with Leroy Anderson’s A Christmas Festival (written for the Boston Pops Orchestra) was in a Christmas concert in what – during my years – was the “new” gym on the north end of the old junior high building.

Trips to Hutchinson for the state fair band day beginning with a parade and then a fun day at the fairgrounds.

Pep band for home basketball games – what a horrible experience it must have been for visiting basketball teams to travel to Augusta always to discover that they got to begin the game by shooting the ball towards a goal with the backdrop of the student section – I don’t remember us ever winning a good sportsmanship award but a lot of great basketball was played in that gym. Names of legends – Hastings, Barnes, Penney, Shoger and on and on.

Speaking of the gym – the annual Band-o-rama program – lots of wonderful music all guided by the hands and the teaching of Max.

Jazz band – again – I learned a foundation of musical style that later enabled me to successfully audition for the United States Air Force Bands program – there will be a number of other stories about this in later posts from other eras of my life.

Times – hours and hours – in the band room other than times for class – it was my study hall especially during my last two years in high school – a place of comfort and peace amidst the business of those years.

The time that I was taken to the Fruhauf Uniform Company offices in Wichita, introduced to Mr. Fred Fruhauf, grandson of the founder of the company, fitted for the new drum major’s uniform – which I wore with pride for the remainder of my high school years – a real honor. Later I would also serve as drum major in college and in the Air Force – Max taught me well.

Oh YES, we had fun – but we will save most of those stories for private conversations.

Stand up and cheer! . . .

Shortly after we arrived in Augusta my mother started to make inquiries to find me the right piano teacher. I don’t remember how long it was before my lessons started, but it was unbelievable that such a wonderful piano teacher lived in my new hometown – Augusta, KS. According to some records I have managed to locate Edwina Parker was born in 1902. I am not aware of the circumstances that brought her to Augusta. However, I very much remember the occasion of her memorial service in 1980 in Augusta. We gathered in the chapel at Dunsford’s – one of her students who was older than me, Dr. Wallace Dunn opened the time with a selection by Bach, another student, younger that me then played Beethoven (sorry I am not currently able to remember his name – I am sorry – perhaps someone can help fill in this information) – then I played Brahms. Following the three musical selections, at Edwina’s request, we adjourned to her home for a party.

Mrs. Parker was amazing – a superb teacher – loving and kind – a bit mysterious – and without a doubt one of the greatest influences on my life. My formal studies with her concluded when I started undergraduate school, but she was always available and willing to lend a listening ear and offer her loving advice without ever offering a critical word about the person I was studying with at the time.

On a few occasions she and I talked about her teacher/mentor Isador Philipp. I was impressed then, but now that I know more about Isador Philipp I am even more impressed – as well as knowledgeable about where she learned her teaching methods.

Philipp was born in 1863 in Budapest and died in 1958 (the same summer we moved to Augusta) in Paris. He studied piano with Georges Mathias (a pupil of Chopin). His teachers also included Camille Saint-Saens, Stephen Heller (who was a student of Carl Czerny who, in turn, was a student of Beethoven), and Theodore Ritter (a student of
Franz Liszt). One of his good friends and classmates was the famous French composer Debussy.

The following article describes Philipp’s teaching manner (sections in bold are my addition as that was the manner in which Edwina taught me and others):

In interviews, his students remember him with a great deal of affection and remark about his gentle and patient manner as a teacher. Students commented that he stressed suppleness, firmness, rhythmic exactitude and articulation. He insisted on practicing with the metronome, first slowly, then incrementally faster for all technical exercises and in learning any new piece. He taught that octaves should be played from the wrist, with a motionless arm, and that fingers should attain true independence of one another. Like other great teachers, he did not have a ‘system’, but taught what the student needed at the time. Paul Loyonnet stated his ideals were velocity, sobriety of expression and the jeu perle style. As for interpretations, he stressed that the student must know the piece intimately and thoroughly before it can be properly played, but did not force any particular interpretation.

Philipp’s repertoire was wide, from the earliest keyboard masters to contemporary composers. He believed that every pianist should be conversant in all styles and eras of piano, and did not shy from playing Bach or other early composers on a modern grand. One of his teaching points was that pianists should play any piece of music the way the composer intended, and seeking out what the composer intended is often a lifelong process. Nonetheless, each pianist should have his own views on the pieces and not just copy what another has done.

Philipp wrote, “The quality most desirable in piano playing is tone. Tone should be worked at from the first, and the pupil must listen attentively to it. To produce a beautiful tone, Thalberg said, ‘one should in a way knead the keyboard with a hand of velvet, the key being rather felt than struck.’ It is essential to maintain the utmost relaxation in the arms, wrists and hands.” Fernando Laires said that Philipp insisted that the music and the tone should arise from deep within the piano, not pounded out at the keyboard, and by that he meant that he must come deep within one’s soul, not at the fingertips.

Rubato, Philipp wrote, does not mean playing out of time, but rather, “any ritenuto that we may be impelled to make, must be compensated by a corresponding accelerando and also the opposite, the bass keeping exactly the time.” Although Philipp abhorred distortions in interpreting pieces, he believed that “even when all the interpretive signs are exactly observed, there remains ample scope for self expression and liberty. You must be living and feeling the drama or the poem or the piece you play, in all its inflections and shades of emotion. What you do not feel yourself, your listeners will not get. You must be fully absorbed in the interpretation.”

When his friend Claude Debussy was composing new pieces for the piano, he would often ask Philipp for advice on notation so that pianists would be able to better understand his nuances and approach. After considerable deliberation, they both decided that almost no pedal markings should be used in any of the published pieces. Their reasoning is that every piano is different in quality, every room or hall is different in size and resonance, and each pianist has different capabilities. To lock in one form of pedaling to cover all possible circumstances would place the pedaling notation above the effects that Debussy wished to achieve. Therefore, they decided that pedaling should be noted only where it is absolutely necessary, and gave discretion to the pianist to use it as needed. Although this has often been abused by some pianists who use it to cloud the harmonies, or achieve a very dry sound, it remains a point of discussion for every pianist who chooses to perform Debussy’s piano works.

Harold Bradley stated that Philipp didn’t necessarily always take the ‘best’ students as his pupils. Sometimes, he would accept a student who had only a few years of instruction and was at the intermediate level, and often he would refuse to teach even top level pianists. For Philipp, the most important attribute of a student wasn’t his or her particular level of accomplishment, but whether they were teachable or not. Bradley said that Philipp could often tell a pianist’s personality just by listening to him play.

The above information was taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isidor_Philipp

I’m sure that the most important thing that Edwina taught me was to perform “without a conscience” – always insisting that a performer who worries about any mistake will continue to worry about that mistake – and – as a result make many more mistakes during the performance. She also taught me pre-performance self hypnosis and the useful art of instant relaxation especially of the muscles in the forearm.

She taught me the musical languages of Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, and many many more composers. While she required that I learn the classics she also made certain that I was able to “play-by-ear” with improvisation especially in pop music styles.

Wow! was I ever blessed by her!!! She taught me life!!!!!

During the summer of 1958 – we – my mother, my grandmother, and me – moved from Tahlequah, Oklahoma to Augusta, Kansas. It certainly was the biggest adventure of my life – at least until that point.

In the fall I started sixth grade at Garfield Elementary School – the same school where my mother was employed for many years to teach second grade. She continued to live in Augusta following her retirement until 2002 when she came to live with us in Austin. My grandmother, LaVaughn Wattenbarger, also lived in August until her death in 1989 – my mother died in 2009.

There are a number of stories that need to be told about the years 1958 through 1965 – I will try my best to protect the innocent by changing or not using names – and we are very much looking forward to attending the Class of 1965 50 Year Reunion this coming year – my how time flies – especially when you’re having fun!!!!!

For people who may not know – Augusta, in Butler county, is located just about half an hour east of Wichita. During these years the primary focus of the town was the Mobil refinery – easy to see – easy to smell – and easy to taste in the local water. When we moved to Augusta the population, as I recall, was around 6,000 – according to Wikipedia the population in 2010 had grown to 9, 274.

Following is at least a partial list of the stories that I need to tell:

— Beloved and wonderful music teachers Edwina Parker and Max Hendrickson

— The historic downtown Augusta Theater and the Drive-In

— Brick streets

— Driver’s ed

— The old Methodist Church and the resulting experiences at Camp Pike

— The honor of attending Boys State and Boys Nation

— Working at the Augusta Pharmacy

— Spending the evening on State Street

— The flood

— Lehr’s and Dairy Queen, etc.

— Augusta Community Theatre

— Teachers: Vivian Williams, Margaret Mallory, David Joy, Winifred Ketch, basketball and math – Adams, Moore, Ashcraft, Hutter – McAdoo, Hicks, Ralston, — I am sure I will think of others before I get to this point in my writing

— Band trips

The only reason I make this list is to remind me of events and times that profoundly effected my life and contributed to the person that I am today. I hope that some of you who read this blog will be willing to contribute your memories to this collection of stories either by commenting directly on this blog site or by commenting on FB.

Wishing everyone a great celebration of Thanksgiving tomorrow! Grace and peace

Before moving along in my story I want to make a short side trip to the present as we prepare to celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday.

Yesterday, November 23, we concluded our fall sermon series at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Austin as we prepare to begin the season of Advent next Sunday. The fall series was titled “Touchstones of Spiritual Sanity” and focused on the Ten Commandments. Yesterday Jim Rigby did a masterful job of giving consideration to the final commandment in light of this week’s annual celebration of Thanksgiving. His sermon, From Blessings to Beatitudes will be available on-line later this week at http://www.staopen.org/sermons-and-news/sermons/ – I strongly recommend it for your watching and listening.

Two other items from the service that I want to make available for your consideration. First, a Native American version of the Ten Commandments which we sang together at the conclusion of the service using a setting that I had composed.

The Earth is our Mother, care for her.

Honor all your relations.

Open your heart and soul to the Great Spirit.

All life is sacred, treat all beings with respect.

Take from the Earth what is needed and nothing more.

Do what needs to be done for the good of all.

Give constant thanks to the Great Spirit for each new day.

Speak the truth: but only of the good in others.

Follow the rhythms of nature: rise and retire with the sun.

Enjoy life’s journey but leave no tracks.

Finally, a prayer that we used during the service – divided into three sections as a call to worship, at a time of prayer, and as a blessing at the end of the service.

Give us hearts to understand; Never to take from creation’s beauty more than we give; never to destroy wantonly for the furtherance of greed; Never to deny to give our hands for the building of earth’s beauty; never to take from her what we cannot use.

Give us hearts to understand That to destroy earth’s music is to create confusion; that to wreck her appearance is to blind us to beauty; That to callously pollute her fragrance is to make a house of stench; that as we care for her she will care for us. We have forgotten who we are. We have sought only our own security. We have exploited simply for our own ends. We have distorted our knowledge. We have abused our power. Great Spirit, whose dry lands thirst, Help us to find the way to refresh your lands. Great Spirit, whose waters are choked with debris and pollution, help us to find the way to cleanse your waters. Great Spirit, whose beautiful earth grows ugly with misuse, help us to find the way to restore beauty to your handiwork. Great Spirit, whose creatures are being destroyed, help us to find a way to replenish them.

Great Spirit, whose gifts to us are being lost in selfishness and corruption, help us to find the way to restore our humanity. Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice we hear in the wind, whose breath gives life to the world, hear us; we need your strength and wisdom.

May we walk in Beauty.

http://nativeamerican.lostsoulsgenealogy.com/prayers.htm

These and other beautiful writing may be found at the website listed above.

This week as you gather to celebrate Thanksgiving it is my prayer that you will pause to remember the whole story of this day that we celebrate each year, being mindful that many people still suffer injustice, oppression, hunger, disease, prejudice and other things that diminish their value as part of God’s continuing creation. So I conclude this post with three of the commandments from above: All life is sacred, treat all beings with respect. Take from the Earth what is needed and nothing more. Do what needs to be done for the good of all.

Amen and Amen – so let it be!!

Most of the information in the beginning of this post I really do not remember – however – thanks to my family telling me at least this beginning story so many times – it sometimes seems like it is an actual memory.

My life adventure with music started inside the little mission church in Bunch next to the house where I was born. The church did not have a nursery – so – during worship services – Sunday mornings, Sunday evenings, and Wednesday evenings – I sat on the piano bench next to my mother who played the hymns for worship. Legend says that at some point on a Christmas Eve I reached up and played along with the melody during the singing of Silent Night. I do remember my grandmother telling this story many many times. I also remember that as the years went by – from time to time my grandmother would make me a year younger when she told the story – a story that I remember hearing often until her death in 1989.

So while I do not know my true age at the time, I am convinced that I must have been younger than five years old – because – at age five I began my formal study of piano. My teacher was a Benedictine nun – Sister Gabriel (not sure of that spelling). Each day during the week following my lesson my mother supervised my practice – in essence repeating the lesson every day. Sister Gabriel was very gentle and kind. However, what I remember most about her was that at the end of each lesson she would have a sweet treat for me that she had saved from her meals in the dining room.

My grandmother also purchased my first piano so that I would have an instrument for my practicing. She also helped us buy my first new piano when we moved to Kansas during the summer before I entered sixth grade. I will relate some more stories of this piano when I am writing about my time in Kansas.

We remained in Oklahoma through my fifth grade year. When I was in the fourth and fifth grades my mother completed her undergraduate degree at what was then Northeastern State Teacher’s College in Tahlequah.

Most of my early memories of church are from the little mission church in Bunch. My grandfather would preach in both Cherokee and English, and we believe that my grandmother was the first woman ever licensed to preach by the Oklahoma Conference of the Methodist Church. I will never forget the first time I attended church at a church other than the one in Bunch. I remember being sad that all churches were not multi-ethnic and multi-lingual – little did I know – and – today I am aware of what a privilege and a blessing it was to begin my spiritual life surrounded by the loving Native Americans in the Cookson Hills of Oklahoma.

My father – John Thomas Mitchell – I never knew my father. I know more about him now than ever before. More about that in a later post.

My mother – Doris Eujean Wattenbarger Mitchell – Many stories to tell about her in later posts.

Me – Thomas Eugene Mitchell – apparently named using the middle names of my parents.

My grandmother – Edna LaVaughn Sargent Wattenbarger – a monumental influence in my life and my development into the person I am today.

My grandfather – George Warren Wattenbarger – some of the family say that he spelled his middle name Warrn – but most of the documents I have discovered spell his middle name Warren.

My grandfather – Grandpa to me – was the pastor at the Methodist mission church in Bunch. However, to this day, people who knew him called him “Doc” Wattenbarger. It seems he provided medical care for many people in the area as well as spiritual care. I am fairly confident that he had very little or no formal medical training, but I do know that he had close relationships with a doctor and a pharmacist in the closest little town. My guess is that both the doctor and the pharmacist were content to advise him in providing medical care to the folks in and around Bunch rather than having to go to Bunch themselves.

I will always remember a cough medicine that he provided for me as a young child – a chocolate flavored sulfa concoction that to this day completely turns my stomach when I taste certain kinds of chocolate – especially in chocolate pie. I also know that my first experience with penicillin was injections given to me by my Grandpa.

And I will never forget my grandparents providing lunch for the entire congregation of the little church following Sunday morning worship. I am still very fond of having a beef roast and a pork roast prepared in the same pan – just like my Grandma did in Bunch for those Sunday lunches. A number of years later I inquired what was so special about cooking them together that way, and she responded by telling me that was the only pan she had that was big enough – but the combination is absolutely delicious!

The Sallisaw Creek ran just behind the church and the house. I don’t remember this one event, but I know that my Grandpa baptized me in the creek – a story that I have heard often enough that I almost feel like I remember.

Bunch is divided down the center by the railroad tracks of the Kansas City Southern Railway. The church and the house and a few other homes are on one side of the track, while the main feature on the opposite side was the general store and post office. In the next post I will talk about how this led to my fascination with passenger trains and my current love of model trains. I still plan to build a layout that re-creates Bunch as I remember it – probably in N-gauge.

More to follow . . . I very much hope that some people who read these posts will join in this community conversation. I would love to read the stories of your beginnings.