Fall 2009
Dear Luther College Classmates of 1953,
We celebrated another Homecoming on campus last weekend (October 2–4). In spite of a lot of rain, it was a lovely weekend. The Class of 1959, in connection with their Golden Anniversary, presented a gift of more than a million dollars. When you hear these onward and upward reports, always bear in mind: we were the floor. Without a floor, who can stand, to reach toward higher goals? The past fiscal year our class reached the 40 percent participation level in giving to all funds, an admirable accomplishment. But once again, there’s that floor, this time one from which we can stretch to reach 50 percent, 60 percent, and on. The Annual Fund beckons your response. If you haven't already, please make your gift today at givenow.luther.edu. Thank you.
My mood is melancholy this week. Richard Simon Hanson’s wife, Rita, died on Sunday, after just over five years in a nursing home. Rita had Parkinson’s for thirty years. We have lived across the street from the Hansons for forty-two years. Our children grew up together, and Richard and I were colleagues in the Religion Department. You might say that we have lived in each other’s shadow since 1949; after college there was Luther Seminary, and then on to graduate study at Harvard. Rita was a trooper. Whatever needed to be done, she was there, ready and willing. I recall especially a summer together in Israel in 1972, the Hansons—all five of them—and I participating in an archaeological dig at Khirbet Shema, near the Sea of Galilee. Whereas other extended family members waited on the sidelines for services, Rita was always in a collaborative mode, finding ways to pitch in beyond the obvious. Blessed be her memory!
You have had notice of the deaths of two of our classmates, Paul Hendrickson and Otto Knudson. Seven of us, including Paul, lived two of our college years in “Sleepy Hollow,” a home near the campus. We occupied the living room, sun room, and one bedroom. The owner and the then oldest living graduate of Luther College lived in the kitchen and dining room, and the Berger family had the upstairs apartment. This is a house currently occupied by one married couple. We had one bathroom for the nine of us downstairs. I frankly do not recall that that was ever a problem. Perhaps we were still in the bath-once-a-week pattern. Our carbon footprint was probably rather minimal, quite ahead of our time. The oldest living graduate of Luther College was a retired pastor who smoked continuously and was quite fond of strong drink. The only thing I remember from our conversations with him is his assertion that a good sermon must have three points. No advice for length that I recall.
Paul was an amiable friend, at ease with himself and the world. When he visited in subsequent years, it was always a delight to hear of his life with music. He was a teacher, composer, arranger, director—in 1979 the Luther Orchestra, commencement weekend, played one of his compositions featuring the migratory flight of geese. The piece ended with a thud that mimicked the landing of geese. When Paul mentioned that a composer hears the music in his mind as he composes, it was clear to me that Paul was hearing an echo of the landing of flocks of geese in his north-Michigan childhood when he composed that piece. It was a special experience to hear the orchestra as I sat beside the composer. Paul also liked to philosophize aloud on the pattern of life, observing in a mood of contented resignation some thing like “round and round it goes; where it stops, nobody knows.” Whenever a thought of Paul walks my memory lanes, I instinctively smile. Blessed be his memory!
Otto is in a class by himself, certainly in Iowa, perhaps not in Texas. Wayne Rohne and Otto shared a room next to Rolf Olson and me in Larsen our senior year. There was never a dull moment. I had not seen Otto for about forty years until he and Wanda stopped by Decorah at the end of July—it must have been in the 1990s—the weekend of the annual Nordic Fest. We had a wonderful time together, and Otto provided a new dimension to the celebration of Norwegian heritage for many visitors to the Fest. Wherever he went, crowds gathered to hear Otto sounding forth in Norwegian with a Texas accent. Just a year ago Otto and Wayne drove to Decorah to participate in our 55th class anniversary. He was in great form and provided us one of our most memorable Homecomings. Blessed be his memory!
Janet Bailie Remstad emailed me in July in response to the Spring 2009 class letter. She reported that her husband, Bob Remstad, died on April 2, 2008, after they had been married for fifty years. She is doing well and enjoys the wonderful support of her children. Blessed be Bob’s memory!
Today we celebrate at Luther College the life of Bruce Wrightsman, a colleague of mine on the religion faculty since the mid-1960s, who died on Sunday. In a note to his widow I made the case for a rich diversity among the group of religion faculty who came here in the 1960s and worked together for almost forty years, all of us male and Lutheran and all long retired. On the face of it, we might seem to have exhibited a dull conformity and sameness, but such was not the case. I compared us to a patchwork quilt, as follows: “I know that my pieces would all be beige. I’m resigned to that. The others would range from muted to bolder colors, and suddenly a blaze of psychedelic colors representing Bruce. That is the fascination of the human condition. We are not all alike. We leave space for one another, for a full and rich experience of life. The current cohort of the Luther College family more or less lays claim to the discovery of diversity. This is an occasion to state boldly—and promise, sort of, henceforth to hold my peace—they lack subtlety.”
My theme may seem a bit grim for a class letter. However, after having spent a long morning on it, I am no longer melancholy. I am reminded of the words of John Donne, four centuries ago: “No man is an island . . . any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for who the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” The Christian life is a journey; it has a plot; it holds the promise of a destination. We are all pilgrims on that journey. It is proper to toll the bell, to remember the journey of departed friends and to remind ourselves of the journey we share. A bell, however, has two tones: it sounds a death knell, but it also summons us joyfully to a celebration of victory. Ring on!
Cheers!
Wilfred F. Bunge
1953 Class Agent
[email protected]
Class Notes
DON BUNGUM of Lindstrom, Minn., was named the 2009 Community Ambassador by the Chisago Lakes Area Chamber of Commerce. Each year, as part of the Celebration of the Lakes festivities, the Chisago Lakes Area Chamber of Commerce selects an individual or family as community ambassador. Ambassadors are devoted to the community; they have made a significant contribution to the quality of life within the community and help to preserve the heritage of the community.
ROBERT MIX of Barnes, Wis., was named to Austin (Minn.) High School Music Hall of Fame at the spring 2009 Big Nine Music Festival held at Austin High School. At Luther, Mix was a member and soloist with the Nordic Choir and also a member of the Norseman Quartet. After graduate work, Mix started teaching in Glenwood and Duluth school districts. In Mix’s 34-year career teaching vocal music, his choirs have performed throughout the Midwest, on the White House lawn, and Europe, Mexico and Canada. He received the Weston H. Noble Award at Homecoming 2008.
