Volume XV, Number 1
In This Issue
A good story must capture our attention and hold it. This is accomplished as much by the artful telling of it as by the content. A good story, told badly, becomes an uninteresting story. In contrast, an ordinary story told well can be very engaging.
It was well past midnight. With a towel around my waist and a toothbrush sticking out the corner of my mouth, I stepped quietly out of my room, and made a beeline for the second floor bathroom at Burgh Hall. I nearly made it when I heard a voice behind me. "So Chief, where ya’ been?"
On a sunny, late summer morning in 1954, a crew-cut 17-year-old with two cardboard suitcases boarded the Hiawatha Zephyr in St. Paul, Minnesota. He took a seat by the window as the train pulled smoothly away from the station and began to glide down the tracks toward Chicago.
Engagement; Ivar Wistrom; Per-Lars Blomgren, Pietisten Reader, Wins Wrestling Title; North Park establishes two biology prizes to honor Profs; Pietisten Crew at Work; Elizabeth Johanna Katter; On-Line Report
Hans Blomgren and I were stuck in traffic on our way to see the historic King-dome implosion. Angry trucks loomed in our rearview as Hans searched for a short cut to San Jose Park, our prospective vantage point. It was 7:55 a.m. and the Dome was scheduled to blow at 8:30.
When I read your letter through, I knew only, that the more I loved you the more misery the letter revealed. Oh, my dear brother, I see so well how it is with you. I know your nature partly through personal contact and partly through your letters which clearly reflect your entire being.
I got the funniest reactions from people when I told them about my New Year’s plans. They all thought I had gone completely insane. While other people were stocking up on bottled water, canned food, and flashlight batteries for the big Y2K disaster, I was planning a flight to a third world country.
On a late afternoon in the middle of November, as I passed the Gustaf Adolph Kirche in Grossauheim, Germany, I heard the strains of an old song. The front door of the Church was open, so I walked in. Up on the second floor, at the rear of the church, I could see a light.
Janet greeted the young woman warmly and, turning to me, said: "Cliff, this is Diane Keaton." Not having kept up with the latest film celebrities, I said: "Oh, do you work here?"
A while back I read an editorial in the New York Times which struck me as a constructive evaluation of the situation in the Balkans. The Times identified the author as a University Professor at Harvard, a former director of security planning at the National Security Council, and the author of the book reviewed here. I thought this was someone whose work I needed to know, so I bought the book.
"The sins of the fathers are inflicted on the children into the third and fourth generation," begins Marianne Frediksson in the foreword of her contemporary Swedish novel, Hanna’s Daughters. "What about the deeds of mothers?" she goes on to muse.
American Beauty was the big winner for "Best Picture" this year, an honor which I think it rightfully deserved.
One of the magic moments of our Scandinavian Holiday last summer—a tour of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden led by Eloise and Leroy Nelson—was a visit to Fröderyd, a small, rural com-munity located in the deep forests of Småland and the birthplace of Lina Sandell.
Have you ever had an author step off the page and confront you in a real situation? What brings serendipity to mind is an illustration I used in two wedding homilies when two of our children were married.
Give up sainthood, renounce wisdom; And it will be a hundred times better for everyone
Mission Meeting; Wiberg Birthday