Letter to my grandson

Dear Lucas,

On Friday you'll be eight years old, and already you can probably read this. As you grow older, I know you'll be funny, wise, sensitive, interesting and a ball of fire, because your parents are all these things. I know you'll be strong, and a wonderful hugger like your Mom and Dad. I wish you happy happy days! You'll have some bad days too, but they only make the good ones better. I know you'll learn how to handle disappointment, because life is 10% what happens, and 90% how you handle it. I pray you'll be humble, and kind enough to always let an outsider feel like an insider.

Lucas Alfred Peterson

I know you'll learn honesty is the best policy, and that hard work really feels good, and I'm sure you'll be a loyal friend who people can count on and trust.  I hope you'll use your many advantages to make the world a better place. But until then....

In his operetta Babes in Toyland, Victor Herbert lamented, "Childhood's joyland. Mystic merry Toyland, once you pass it's borders, you can never return again." He was right. So thanks for letting me be part of your boyland.

Here if you need me,
Grandpa

A salute to simple living

At least once each year when our girls were in elementary school, we'd go to Concord and visit Walden Pond. Sometimes we'd swim at the small beach, and sometimes we'd hike the two-mile path around the pond, passing the site of Henry David Thoreau's cabin. I think Thoreau would be pleased to know one daughter is now a leader in arts development while the other assists scholars doing scientific research to improve the environment.

Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)

Thoreau grew up in Concord, the son of a pencil-maker. After graduating from Harvard in 1837, he tried his hand at writing but publishers rejected his work. He and his brother John started an innovative grammar school but it closed four years later when John contracted tetanus and died in Henry's arms. Henry fell in love with John's former sweetheart, Ellen Sewell. He proposed, but her father refused to consent because Thoreau was "a dreamer who wouldn't amount to anything." So Henry went back to pencil-making, but still inspired many of his neighbors. Teenage Louise May Alcott took walks in the woods with him as he explained each tree and flower. He often babysat Ralph Waldo Emerson's children, sometimes living with them while the Sage of Concord was away on lecture tours. In 1845 he quit making pencils and built a tiny cabin at Walden Pond, just two miles from his family home. He lived there almost three years while on a voyage of personal independence and spiritual discovery which he later shared in his book, Walden, available at your local library. If you have five spare minutes and would like to walk around Walden Pond and see a replica of his cabin, visit youtube.com/watch?v=_8FUPrd5ra0   Meanwhile, here are a few lessons Thoreau learned while living at Walden.

Walden Pond in autumn

"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.  Be not simply good. Be good for something. Goodness is the only investment that never fails. The world is but a canvas to our imagination. What you get by achieving your goals is not as important as what you become by achieving your goals. The language of friendship is not words but meanings. Friends are kind to one another's dreams. Wealth is the ability to fully-experience life. The mass of men live lives of quiet desperation, because men have become the tools of their tools. I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately...and not, when I came to die, to discover that I had not lived."

Touchdown Jesus

As former Hoosiers, Evelyn and I still enjoy watching Notre Dame football on TV. Today they beat Stanford, against all odds. The Irish were trailing 10-14. It was 4th and eleven, with 61 seconds left on the clock, when Everett Golson threw a 23 yard touchdown pass to Ben Kayack, who caught it in the end zone. What a thrilling moment! But what happened afterward was even better.

Notre Dame's Hesburg Library was the biggest university library in the United States when it opened in 1963. The side of the library facing the football stadium is covered by a giant mural of the resurrected Jesus with his arms raised in the same fashion a referee would signify a touchdown. Visible from many stadium seats, it's nicknamed "Touchdown Jesus."

Does the iconic mural affect the outcome of games? Probably not. But the attitude of Notre Dame players might. After each victorious home game, the fighting Irish don't rush to the showers. They gather with arms on each other's shoulders to sing their Alma Mater. Fans also stand with arms on each other's shoulders and sing along with them, slowly swaying from side to side. Here are the lyrics. If you've never seen such a post-game ceremony, click this link to watch and listen.
youtube.com/watch?v=xpjIdgKYHrM

Notre Dame, Our Mother

Tender, Strong, and True

Proudly in the Heavens

Gleams Thy Gold and Blue

Glory's Mantle Cloaks Thee

Golden is Thy Fame

And Our Hearts Forever 

Praise Thee, Notre Dame

And Our Hearts Forever

Love Thee Notre Dame

There are angels among us

Tricia Somers, 45, was diagnosed with a serious illness last year. In March, she found out it was terminal. The single mother's biggest concern was her son Wesley, and who would take care of him after she died.

"He's the only thing I got and I have to leave him," she said. "It's really hard, and I feel bad that I am doing that to him but he says, 'Mommy it is not your fault.' "

Somers' options were limited. Her parents passed away years ago; her brother told her he didn't see a child in his life, and her ex-husband has not been a constant in Wesley's life.

She was devastated until a nurse, also named Tricia, walked into her room at Pinnacle Health's Community General Campus in Harrisburg.

"She seemed like an angel. She came in and I just felt this overwhelming comfort, like a warm blanket around me," Somers said. "It was strange. I never had that feeling before and I thought she is going to take care of me. She is the one."

Tricia Seaman has been a registered nurse at PinnacleHealth's Community General campus for 14 years and works in the oncology area.

It was late one night when Seaman walked into the room at the hospital to say good night to Somers that she got the shock of her life. They'd only known each other two weeks, but Somers blurted out, "'If I die can you take my son?' I figured she thinks I am crazy, but I knew it's what I had to do," Somers said.

Seaman told Somers she'd take the request back to her family. Somers didn't know the Seaman family was already trying to adopt a son. They just didn't expect it to happen this way.

"Sometimes God has a plan for our lives," Seaman said. "Sometimes we think we know what that plan is, but we really don't."

Although Seaman's husband was shocked by the request, he was open to the idea of helping a woman he never met.

"In 20 years I've never had occasion not to trust my wife's heart," Dan Seaman said. "When she called I said, 'We've got to figure out a way to make this happen.' "

After much thought, the family decided they would take care of Wesley when his mother passed, but that's not all.  They also invited both Somers and Wesley to move in with them.  Otherwise, Somers would spend her final days in a nursing home, apart from her son. 

"They wanted us to be together, and to go through the journey with me," Somers said.

The two families have become one, and are building memories together.

"It is a privilege to be able to walk with her on this journey," Tricia Seaman said. "We're going to be able to utilize this as we raise Wesley. His past is not a mystery to us. We've learned the traditions that are special to them and can still do things that mean a lot to him."

As for Wesley, the once "only child" now has three sisters and a brother. "I didn't have anybody until now except Mommy," he said. "I'm happy to have a brother!" His new sisters all welcomed Somers as a second Mom.

"I'm just hanging in there and holding on," Somers said. "I'm at peace. I know Wesley will be taken care of. I just hope I can be here as long as I can be here."

To donate to the Seaman-Somers Family Fund please send a check to the First National Bank of Mifflintown: Delaware Office,  24021 Rt. 333,  Thompsontown, Pa. 17094

God made her do it

Mesannie Wilkins was 63 and lived a hard life in Minot, Maine. She was ill and her doctor told her she might live two or three more years if she rested. She had no one to care for her, and was about to lose her house. So she asked God what to do. He told her to go to California. To be sure she heard the Lord right, she flipped a coin. Heads she'd go. Tails she'd stay. It came up heads over and over and over, so she bought a tired summer camp horse, saddled up and started for California with her dog on a long leash. She had $32 in cash. "I go forth as a tramp of fate among strangers," she said, but instead of strangers she found friends.

"I figured I could rest in the saddle," she recalled, but parts of the trip were grueling and dangerous. Sixteen months and 7,000 miles later, she reached the Pacific Ocean. Along the way, she was feted by several state governors, sketched by Andrew Wyeth, and even appeared on the Art Linkletter show. When her horse died before the end of her journey, Linkletter bought her a new one. She also declined a marriage proposal from a western goat farmer.

Her health improved as she rode, and after reaching California she wrote a book about her journey called Last of the Saddle Tramps. If it's not in your library, it's available online. It will cheer your heart to see how a sick woman finds health while blessing others from coast to coast.

The brightest night in 1965

I was working late at The Christian Science Monitor on November 9, 1965. At 5:21 p.m. my selectric typewriter quit humming. A second later, overhead lights flickered off, leaving only emergency bulbs in stairways. I called my parents a few miles away. Their power was off too. Was it a city-wide blackout? When we turned on our transistor radios, we heard the power was off from Ontario to Manhattan.

It was rush hour. Thousands of Bostonians (including Charlie) were riding home on the MTA when subway trains slowly rolled to a stop in pitch dark tunnels. Others were trapped between floors in darkened elevators. Hospital operating rooms went dark. Television stations went off the air. Fortunately the weather was clear, and Boston was lit by a full hunter's moon and a thousand stars we'd never seen before.

Since it was impossible to work, I grabbed my coat and walked downtown. Without any traffic lights, traffic was gridlocked. Nobody was going anywhere, until students began pouring out of fraternity houses and took over major intersections, directing traffic by hand. They coordinated their signals from block to block, and cars began moving smoothly again. I noticed signs in darkened restaurants that said FREE COFFEE and FREE DESSERTS.  Executives in Gucci shoes stood on the sidewalk enjoying free Jo with street people and gypsy children. One vagrant ask for a quarter and guy in a Brooks Brothers suit gave him a fiver.

I returned to my apartment after witnessing hours of human kindness. We learned later there was very little crime during the blackout. Instead, people helped each other. Nobody knew power would return in 13 hours, but I hoped Reddy Kilowatt would go missing for a week. Without electricity, we were all in the same boat -- all brothers. You had to be there. Here's how one resident of New York City described it.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lMaT0JSAU1A

Is there a way to heal hurt feelings?

Back in the late '60s I went through a heartbreaking divorce. After returning to my parents' home in Boston and getting a new job, I decided to take a two-week religion course and interviewed several potential teachers. To each I posed the same question. Is there a way to heal hurt feelings?

The teacher whose class I joined offered an answer that worked. He asked if I was familiar with the popular TV commercial for Colgate toothpaste? It claims Colgate has a secret ingredient called Gardol, which forms an invisible shield around teeth to prevent decay. If you'd like to see the commercial, here it is. youtube.com/watch?v=I4uTXpGqMZQ

He said love is like a Gardol shield. When we activate our love, it forms a spiritual shield that prevents sadness or disappointment or resentment from hurting us. You have to brush your teeth to activate the Gardol shield, and you have to love ACTIVELY to protect yourself from hurt feelings. Saying,"I don't hate her (or him)" won't activate the shield. Being indifferent and bragging, "I have no feelings about her (or him) either way," won't work. Only living love brings protection -- love expressed.

From then on, when ever I sent my ex- a legal document or a check, I always enclosed a kind note which was heartfelt. Pretty soon I felt like the guy in the commercial. Hurt feelings couldn't reach me. Years later, I found this verse by poet Max Dunaway which explained why.

Sorrow is selfish, but Love will make

The burdened breast forget its woe.

Remember, dear, the heart cannot break

If it is allowed to overflow.