New Year’s Blog 2021-2022: RIP

Along with Memorial Day, the other semi-Annual “Necrology” of the departed—friends and “in the news”

There are a few times in life when you leap up and the past that you’d been standing on falls away behind you, and the future you mean to land on is not yet in place, and for a moment you’re suspended knowing nothing and no one, not even yourself. (Ann Patchett)

Without the hidden conspiracy of goodwill, society would not endure an hour. (Kenneth Rexroth)

[Friendship] shrouds the mantle of forgiveness/Over the graves of our mistakes. (Douglas Raymond Rose)

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Friends/Acquaintances

‘Jo’ Anderson, Lovely woman, former parishioner at St. Mark’s on the Campus, kind and generous.

Ruth Asboe, dying at 104, she must certainly have been in the running for our longest-lived clergy widows, who as an actuarial class are pretty long-lived in the first place.

Hank Austin, jovial, welcoming, and gregarious Deacon from St. Andrew’s, Omaha, who cared for the vets at the Eastern Nebraska Vet’s Home.

Kerry Bowers, husband of Carri, a friend of our daughter’s, and son-in-law of our good friends, Tom and Jan Paxson, and so step-father of Dillon Rose.

Albert Cuellar, older brother of my classmate Richie, and unflagging supporter of McCook. I cast my ballot for Al every time he was up for election the school foundation. His sister married Mr. Gilmore, our Spanish teacher at the time.

Juanita Bessie Van Ostal Cloyed, huge name for fine woman, a nearby neighbor, who stole the first Nunsense show KTC produced, at home until almost the end thanks to daughter Catherine and granddaughter.

Betty Crittenden, who as office secretary was for years the “first face” of St. Stephen’s, Grand Island, and costumer deluxe for the outdoor theater her husband Todd directed as well as countless Vacation Bible Schools. Their kids are Camp Comeca alums!

Faisal, late husband of our friend and former UNK colleague Nyla Khan—a death hallowed by her pledge to care for all he left behind.

Bob Gearhart, priest of the Diocese of Nebraska, Valentine and Fairbury, host for a workshop I gave in the Sandhills.

Cathie Genung, pipe-line fighter with a heart for it and a passion for justice, with whom we stood side by side at many a demonstration battling for the future of our earth, air, water, and way of life

Don Gray, former parishioner at St. Mark’s on the Campus, out of Hastings where the Gray/Peek friendship goes way back.

Jeff Green, partner of Chris Rutledge who grew up in Kearney and at St. Luke’s and remains good friends with our daughter.

Tom Hannigan, my brother-in-law’s brother-in-law, forty-three years of his life led in active adventure, including working for the FBI, and thirty-one years in a wheel chair as a result.

Todd Harris, parishioner at St. Matthew’s, Alliance, with whom, along with his wife, Deacon Cheryl Harris, we stayed when I subbed for Fr. McClure, and who taught us how to play a great game!

Marge Hoffmeister Gardner, mom of a former Diocesan youth director, ‘gammer’ of a friend of our kids and us, and a vivacious, spunky, lovely person in her own right, one of my parent’s favorite people when Dad served St. Mark’s Pro-Cathedral.

Dorothy Holt, a quiet and kindly parishioner at St. Luke’s, buried by both our current and a former rector, unusual for having also graduated from KHS; Dorothy, not Fr. Ness.

Juanita Johnson, deacon serving Church of the Resurrection, Omaha, a traditionally black and now blended parish.

Richard Kauders, retired from the business end of the UP and husband of the former director of the Museum of Nebraska Art, faithful Christian and leader in the parish and Diocese.

Marvin Knittel, former colleague at UNK, member with me of Torch Club, and much admired for his work and character. (The “K,” as the joke around UNK went, was pronounced! Punch line of the offending student… “I didn’t K-now!”)

John Krecji, Sociology Professor and worker for peace and justice, knew him first at then KSC, later at Nebraskans for Peace while he taught at Nebraska Wesleyan.

Gretchen Lainson, at 105; stopping by the Lainson home on New Year’s Eve was one of my parent’s annual pleasures when Dad was Dean of the Pro-Cathedral, and by happenstance I ended up supervising Vinnie Lainson when she did a parish internship. The Lainson family has been a valued supporter of Hastings and their Presbyterian Church there.

Dorothy Mattison, long-time supporter and “spry” docent at the Willa Cather Foundation who often guided our research or our student tours when those took place at the old “Garber” bank.

Donnie Miles McCurry, son of Nancy’s friend Rosalie, sister of one of my former students and a Nebraska writer, Charlene Pierce, “too young” the common expression of grief.

Fran McKendree, who heard the call to sing song, hymns, and spiritual songs, and answering that call uplifted many lives.

Robin McNutt, a Deacon in our Diocese from All Saint’s, Omaha.

Jack McSweeney, 1/8^th (or 1/16^th depending on the moment) of our road trip group, realtor in the agency his wife Janice Wiebusch started, once our monthly tour guide of Kearney real estate development, parishioner of St. Luke’s but at heart an Irish Catholic.

Gretchen Naugle, smart and humble (a rare combination), priest of the diocese, who, like me, took the chance to serve as an interim at our beloved St. Mark’s on the Campus.

Ron Naugle, Gretchen’s husband, a well-known historian in Nebraska, who survived her only shortly.

Katie Nickel, long-time leader in the UNK campus School of Nursing, possessed of a keen mind, warm heart, and vibrant personality, one of the true stars of Kearney Community Theater, and our neighbor.

Vera Reddish, long-time parishioner of St. Stephen’s Grand Island, who was the mainstay for years of the mid-week service at All Faith’s Chapel and who worked tirelessly for the Special Olympics in which her son Tom always took part.

Kathy Schmutte, who was a part of what is now St. Mark’s on the Campus before we were and was there during the year I served as Interim in 2020—choir, altar guild, pew—kind, quiet, faithful; her service included a fine remembrance put together by Bob Kuzelka and Peg Sheldrick.

Donna Smith, Kearney (not to be confused with Donna Smith Grand Island!). We had just had lunch with daughter Nancy the day before. Her late husband Jim was the first ever Senior Warden of St. Luke’s who had not been born and raised in Kearney; son Jim and daughter Nancy were already grown and gone but we’ve gotten to know them both, and enjoy seeing Nancy annually, and learned a lot talking through Rita with Jim. But Donna was the constant—nurse at Head Start for years, Person of the Year for Sertoma, and until confined to her home, a voice in the church choir.

Harry “Stoney” Stoneback. The Hemingway Society dubbed him “a charismatic presence whose humor and swagger gave a jolt of rambunctious fun to Hemingway proceedings.” He was also one of the finest scholars I ever knew, every inch a professor, and his students knew it. I recall one night crossing Lake Maggiore walking from one end of the boat to the other with his wife Jane Arden “Sparrow” Stoneback, and when we arrived at Stoney’s coterie in the aft, they looked up surprised and said, “we wondered where you were.” She asked me, “Do they mean me or you?”

Antonette “Toni” Turner, direct descendant of and the last to have known Annie Pavelka, the model for Cather’s Ántonia and Cather’s childhood friend. Antonette lectured widely, sponsored Cather Foundation scholarships, and could hold her own in any crowd well into her nineties! (A relative, Kent Pavelka, was for years the voice of Cornhusker football.)

Frederick Morris “Morrie” Tuttle, if it had to do with books, writing, literature, or heritage in Nebraska, you can bet Morrie had a hand in it; we served together on the Center for the Book.

Desmond Tutu, a global conscience for the nations, listed here only because I had the privilege of spending several days at the YMCA of the Rockies at an Episcopal College Ministry conference called The Turning of Time with Archbishop Tutu, and those days were indeed a crucial turning point for me.

Eugene Ward, received into the priesthood of the Episcopal Church at St. Luke’s out of his experience in installing the pipe organ he had brought from Louisville, Kentucky, to Kearney, installed, and which both he and his wife Jan played, one son in mathematics, one daughter a musician.

Richard Weill, member of the NU debate team when I was, class of ’64.

Shirley Wenzel, from Weeping Water and Elmwood, a Cather regular and our companion at the Cather International in Flagstaff, where she gave Nancy a sunhat on a hot day at the ranger station Cather celebrated.

Bob Witcher, formerly Bishop of Long Island; interviewing me for Canon at the Cathedral there, he tested my sobriety by offering me a drink at lunch in a way that put me in an embarrassing position to refuse, and was happy when I passed his test! He and the Cathedral Dean called my good friend Rod Michel to the post instead, and Rod went on to succeed Bob as Bishop of Long Island.

Celebrities

Ed Asner, wonder what he thought of ‘spunky’ as he left us? Betty White is the sole standard bearer now!

Robert Bly, delightful poet and poetry guru, master of the psychological trail leading from image to image, friend of some of our poets, who probably made more from Iron John than from his poems.

Abdelaziz Bouteflika, who for two decades led Algeria under a policy of amnesty for all parties in their former civil war.

F. W. deKlerk, who after a lifetime on the wrong side of history, joined in peace and reconciliation with Nelson Mandela to reshape South Africa.

Joan Didion, who found her own voice and showed us an America different than what we thought we knew. Not sure if the Book of Common Prayer will be used for the author of The Book of Common Prayer!

Bob Dole, former Republican stalwart for whom the Robert Dole Center at the University of Kansas is named. and until old age overtook his better sense, one of the last real Republicans; like fellow Kansan Alf Landon, unsuccessful candidate for President,

Lee Elder, who (paraphrasing Marilyn Nelson’s phrase) owned the Masters!

Don Everly, it was easier to sing in close harmony than to live in close harmony, but by Knott’s Berry farm, we’d had the best of them and our Susie had awakened long before.

Maki Kaji, who coined the name and made the Sudoku puzzle famous.

John Madden, what sports-minded youngster with an X-Box or Play Station doesn’t have loads of the annual NFL games from the roving Hall of Famer!

Jackie Mason, proving rabbis can too be funny!

John McAfee, the founder of the antivirus software maker, died in prison after a Spanish court ruled to allow his extradition on tax-evasion charges.

Gavin McLeod—not exactly “O Captain, My Captain,” but who can argue that we don’t need less gun boats and more love boats.

Jovenel Moïse, assassinated, the Haitian President’s death in his own home is an icon of that country’s sad instability, from its proud independence to being crippled by racist colonialism, another victim of Dixie-led fears and bigotry ending in dreams deferred—but please let us keep our sacred statues!

Robert “Bob” “Freedom Summer” Moses, who saw the key to Civil Rights as the unsung fieldwork or registering voters and didn’t think too highly of the headliners. Got to meet him when he spoke on his Algebra project at Texas State the semester I taught there on exchange.

Michael Nesmith guitar in the band television made famous, The Monkees

Henry Orenstein, just one Transformation after another!

Colin Powell first African American Secretary of State and one of the few since William Jennings Bryan to put principles first.

Harry Reid, scrappy Senator without whose able leadership millions would still be without health insurance, able mentor of Mike Schneider of the Nevada legislature.

Ann Rice, who channeled for us Horace Walpole, Ann Radcliffe, and Bram Stoker (and maybe Miss Emily, to boot); no more interviews.

Daniel Rumsfeld, twice Secretary of Defense; when you have mired your own country in the vexed history of the Middle East, what do you say when you meet your maker?

Willard Scott, the meteor among network meteorologists!

Stephen Sondheim, giant of American musical theater, with plays a nightmare to stage and sheer joy to see and hear.

Bishop John Shelby Spong, whose support for inclusion (LGBTQ+ and women) put him, in one person’s words, “lightyears ahead of leaders in the Episcopal Church.”

Charlie Watts, Rolling Stones drummer, of whom aficionado Don Compier said, “great drummer. Rock steady. That kind of person too.” And he loved jazz!

Sarah Weddington, who argued the Constitutional case for choice in Roe v Wade, convincing the court but not many fellow citizens.

George Wein, founder of the Newport Jazz Festival. One of the appeals of Playboy Magazine included two annual issues, one with the results of the Henley Regatta, the other with the highlights of the Newport Jazz Festival and the annual poll of favorite jazz musicians. Why a boy from Southwest Nebraska took an interest in either? Both looked like passports to a larger world!

Edward bi-O-diversity Wilson—pioneering biologist. When I retired from UNK, I took my copy of a Wilson book to Joe Springer in the biology department to ask who he knew that might want it. He did!

For the good friend we lost a year ago, Judge Cloyd Clark, this poem written in the immediate grief over his passing:

On Mortality

                                    For Cloyd Clark

We thought that death had left the room but when we sat down in some relief for the respite of a happy hour we soon spotted the tips of his glossy, dark shoes sticking out from under the drapes still pulled over the bay window to keep out the glare of the setting sun and then apprehension gave way to uncertainties as to whether we should wait for him to show his face or fling back his cover and expose him or just follow the magician’s usual directives to pay no attention to what’s behind the curtain so avoiding looking directly at each other except for possibly a sideways glance we had another drink and listened to our own hushed voices and wondered to ourselves about how deep might be the space between the drape and the window.   The End.                

                                                                                                            Kearney, Nebraska

                                                                                                            February 28, 2021

Plans for the blog 2022: Obviously the necrology has gotten out of hand. I’m thinking of splitting the two annual Remembrances into four, then eight times a year using the blog for comments, half of those one-pagers and half more extended comments. Next blog in February.

For 2022 think Health and Self-Care!

Google Calendar – January 2022

2021 Christmastide blog—Dear family, friends, and blog followers,

Reflecting on the Season

Therefore, every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a householder who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old. (Matthew 13:52)

Roughly translated: Everybody seriously interested in God knows enough to treasure some of the old and some of the new.

I once heard the former Presiding Bishop of Scotland, Richard Holloway, speak to passages of scripture, some of which condemned holding onto the old too long, others of which condemned always seeking something new. If you are listening to a sermon like that, it is easy to get distracted right there, thinking of all the people you know who fit into each category. Maybe even thinking of yourself at different stages of your life. As Swift said, if you lined up all the things you’ve believed from youth on up, you’d have a mess of contradictions.

Some of the difference between affection for the old and new lends itself to one’s time of life. When I was 18, I couldn’t wait to get out of my old home town and find a new world, leaving the old behind. Now that I’m 79, I find that I read with some dismay announcements like “there’s a new Microsoft 11 out” so you can upgrade. (For only $200!)

When I was a pastor, I discovered that a lot of people had joined the church at some point when something new attracted them. The old and quite wrong-headed prohibition of divorce was removed, or people were singing the new Charismatic spiritual songs, or women and girls were showing up in the front of the church as well as the back. 

But then, Behold, I make all things new. Revelation 21:15

They missed Rev. 21:5! The voice from the throne didn’t say I make some things new and then you can keep them from ever changing. The voice said, I make ALL things new. 

I was put in mind of all this by some happenstance recurrent references that cropped up lately to the things we left behind, and things we took along for the journey.  A painting depicting the pioneer trail with the now lighter wagon ascending a hill up ahead and some ways behind it left on the prairie an old heavy chest of drawers. Or Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried, the flip side of what gets left behind. Or Amanda Gorman’s Call Us What We Carry.

I thought of the “Church of what’s happening now” versus the church where nothing is happening at all. I thought of the raging debates over whether the U.S. Constitution is to be strictly constructed or is to be seen as a living document.

I thought of the old labels BC and AD. They were changed some time ago by academics eager to remove the stamp on time of one particular religion. But maybe they should have been kept to mean “behind the curve” and “ahead in the dynamics.” (Apologies to Kierkegaard for such a Hegelian thought!)

I’ve been in homes (and offices) that looked like mausoleums for a cherished moment in time that was ripped away too traumatically, and homes (and offices) that looked like their occupants were anchored to absolutely nothing, just blown along by the winds of the moment.

I thought of the old reminder: Whoever is married to the spirit of the times will soon be a widow!

So, I began looking around our household…I am after all a householder.  And I noticed, for instance, that my computer and printer sit atop a Navajo rug from Two Gray Hills, which in turn sits upon the desk I used when I was first Rector of St. Luke’s, whose top rests upon drawers, one of which is a “things-to-be-done” drawer and another a “things-I’m-through-with” drawer.  How’s that for old and new.

It put me in mind of rounding a corner in London 35 years ago and seeing a new steel and glass structure expanding an old stone building, the genius of the architect being the seemingly seamless fit, the “rightness” of the combination of the new and the old.

Some things in our home are old indeed.  I inherited from my mother’s parents an oak secretary with its original glass that was a wedding present to my grandparents in 1904.  In it sits my new Vankyo projector that allows images on my computer to appear on a screen.

We have an old refinished cabinet that we inherited when we moved into our current residence and it is promised to Javi Fox when he has the space for it and needs a way to display his pottery. Along with that old cabinet, we found a steel double bed, which I sandblasted and repainted. It now sits in our daughter’s basement in the guest room we sleep in when we visit. My son has the library table I bought once in Colorado. We periodically put something out on our curb with a sign that reads “FREE,” and rarely have to take it back inside or to the dump—usually gone within the first day “displayed.”

I wonder what I thought would happen to the little cardboard box of fishing flies I cherished.  My grandfather made them, but I haven’t fished for ages…they sat idle for decades as the leader grew brittle. I used just once the fly rod Hobe Blackledge gave me, but my son has used it a lot.

Urged by our two grown children (clearly fearful for what might well lie ahead for them!), we’ve begun the long and hard course of downsizing what we’ve accumulated in 56 years of marriage. Just for fun, we take some of what we are leaving behind to their houses! But, with lots of Nancy’s labor over many months, we’ve donated a ton of what I once called the second largest archive in Nebraska to institutions where they will be available to family and to history. Nancy’s dad was career military and during the occupation of Japan Secretary of MacArthur’s General Staff—lots of diaries, photos, and memorabilia now resides in the WWII archive at the Love Library at UNL. Her maternal grandfather was the editor of the Chadron paper for 36 years and also became a state senator and head of the Nebraska Press Association. Another lot of diaries, photos, and wedding dress now reside at the Mari Sandoz Heritage Center at Chadron State College.

One of the remarkable pieces: an album of photos of Native Americans around there at the time with each of their names in it. Think of how remarkable it is that their names were kept.

And, of course, I think a bit about all those French Hens and Partridges, Calling Birds and Geese now cluttering up the true love’s home…whatever of them was kept, what discarded, what eaten?

We carry along some things, jettison others, just as a matter of course…just as Jesus taught in his parable about the householder. Or at least we do until something gets wrenched away so quickly that the loss launches us toward a future we can’t fathom or locks us in a past we can’t escape, and either way precludes us living in the only time we have to live in—the now.

The homeless or transient, of course, often have to carry a lot. In my year at St. Mark’s on the Campus in Lincoln (2020), aa urban nomad sometimes left his carts and suit cases and duffel bags of worldly goods in our courtyard or basement. He feared that, where he lived, his belongings kept being stolen. But one day the Parish Administrator and I noticed that the carts and cases kept multiplying!

Joseph and Mary go off to Bethlehem to pay a tax and come home with a baby. But far more than they could have imagined was left behind, infinitely more carried home. We can adapt the terms BC and AD but something radically changed at that moment and the world will never be the same again because of it.

From before Jesus’ time to long after, what is now Jerusalem grew along the many trade routes of the new old and coming worlds. This past Fall, I took a Senior College Course from Kevin Witte entitled “Silk Roads, Sea Roads, and Sand Roads,” many of which would surprise someone not familiar with their history, the surprise no less to find how many current trade routes are just about where the ancient ones lay. Who can say along such routes what is old, what is new? Who can say what is old or new in her or his own life?

Someone invented laces and someone taught someone else how to tie them and someone decided it was chic to leave them untied. Which is really old? Which really new? Is the name of a childhood acquaintance I just remembered after 70 years new or old?

But this year what is striking me about the Christmas Story—the Christmas we don’t have to worry about missing because of slowed supply lines—is that many are changed but few are renewed, and a good deal of the difference comes from how we are prepared to greet change.

The key Jesus’ teaching gives us is to treasure things both old and new: the laws he unfailing upheld, the laws he consistently broke; leaving the old daguerreotype in its old ornate frame but finding new skins for the new wine. Oh, that finding new skins – there sometimes is the rub.

For friends we cherish, both old and new, we pray this season of light will enlighten all our householding—of our personal homes, our political homes, our environmental homes.

Chuck

News of the Year Follows

What a year it has been at the Peek household. About 4:30 p.m. December 31, 2020, I ceased being Rector in the Interim of St. Mark’s on the Campus, Lincoln, and became once again retired. Not so you’d notice, but nevertheless officially. Then in late January Nancy was diagnosed with Invasive Breast Cancer. Very successful surgery by Dr. Melissa Stade at Kearney Regional Hospital—stage one, no spread to the lymph nodes, etc. They delayed surgery just long enough we could get our second Covid vaccination. Then Nancy launched into chemotherapy with oncologist Sarah Creamer at Good Samaritan Hospital—an infusion every three weeks, four infusions in all, and no fun at all with the Taxotere. It knocked down her energy levels quite a lot, but she never stopped getting up, taking meals, taking walks. And she never stopped trying to  answer everyone who sent her well-wishes and prayers, and does so here again:

Dear Family and Friends,

Thank you to each of you for the many letters, gifts, phone calls, texts, meals, food, treats, emails, zooms, cards, visits, good wishes and prayers that you sent in 2021 during my treatment for breast cancer. It was overwhelming to think that I was the subject of so much caring and kindness. As we all get ready to say good bye to 2021, it seemed to me that I had to add to Chuck’s Christmas letter to thank you all. I know that I tried to write you, but I also know that I missed some of you and so I want you to know that this year was one where you carried both of us through the surgeries, the medical appointments, the anxiety, and the concerns of dealing with a major health challenge. No one could have had better care from Chuck, the George and Laura Grace Peek Family, the Harlan and Noelle Ptomey Family, all the grandchildren (Rowan, Brody, Will, Greta, Huck, and Lou), the Barclay and Lorita Resler Family and our doctors and other medical professionals. We are grateful also for our church family of St. Luke’s Kearney and the Diocese of Nebraska. We love you all and wish you a healthy happy 2022.
◦ Thank you, Nancy Peek

Nancy got her strength back in time for her regular eye exam in Iowa City and from there a quick jaunt to Milwaukee to see the family there. Took two of them to the zoo—and its rope climbs! “Huck,” said Greta, “I don’t think we’ve ever spent so long a time at the zoo before.” Well, what are grandparents for? And took two of them to see a Milwaukee Brewers game—a pitching duel which, if you are 7 (Huck) and 12 (Will) is not quite as exciting as a batting battle.

Huxk on the rope climb, Greta just waiting behind

Then back in time to start Nancy’s radiation treatments, 5 days a week for four weeks. Dr. Liberman was to be in charge. He had been a physicist first and worked on systems to locate submarines underwater, until he decided locating cancers couldn’t be a lot different so went to Med school! But sadly, he died just the week before Nancy was to begin radiation, so she was treated by a series of hospitalists brought in for three-week shifts in the fine radiology department. When it was over, Nancy rang the bell in the hall to the cheers of most of the Good Sam staff in that unit, we made our appointment for launching future “surveillance” as charted by Dr. Creamer, who made an appointment with Dr. Stade to remove Nancy’s port—and that’s when she felt “treatment” was over.

Nanc rings the bell at Good Sam

What will never be over is the overwhelming number of folks who kept track of how she was progressing and supplied food and care. Every infusion day, we had dinner dropped off by Jan Paxson and offers from others, and our daughter Noelle came out to give us a few days of an extra hand on board. I tried to keep a pretty good email list apprised of the course of treatment, among them Nancy’s brother and her nieces Keagan and Pierce, so many of whom offered lots of supportive comments, which we both surely did appreciate. She was on many prayer list, including at Milwaukee’s Mount Olive LCMS, thanks to George and Laura Grace, and the Pink Ladies at Harlan and Noelle’s school took up a collection for Nancy. We hope to pay that forward as we go along.

We were determined with cancer, as we were with COVID, not to let it be our whole life. Our first foray out was dinner at Linda Anderson’s with old friends Tom and Susie Miles, then dinner at Stan and Carol Dart’s. In addition to our little trip to Milwaukee and a delightful morning with Laura Grace’s parents Jon and Martha Bruss, we’ve been to Noelle’s a couple of times, one of them to celebrate our birthdays with our first ever pedicure. Yes, authentic, i.e. Vietnamese.

We took in our diocese’s Annual Council in Lincoln where our daughter Noelle received the Bishop’s Cross, an award given each year to one outstanding clergy person and one outstanding lay leader…George and Greta came down from Milwaukee for the awarding, and Rowan was able to come over for the dinner after from his home in Omaha. Our dear friend and colleague Tim Anderson was given the clergy award.

Daughter Noelle and Fr. Tim Anderson, 2021 Bishop’s Cross awards

Then, we stayed after to join in the 100^th Anniversary celebration of St. Mark’s on the Campus—the current iteration of the old University Chapel—the first of its kind at a public university and where my dad, George H. Peek, was the vicar for 5 years, building the current worship facility which is just now, 55 years later, newly renovated. So happy for all the good lay leaders there, the students involved, and their new Rector Fr. Robert Magoola and his family. A special shout out to students Collin Sipple and Taylor Sullivan who were mostly responsible for all the Facebook Live streams of SMOC services while I was there and after, and Sybil Heffernan who took part regularly in the student group zooms.

The planned trip in September 2020 to Kansas City with friends Martha Townsend and Clark Swisher, cancelled due to COVID, finally took place in November 2021 as we were enroute for my focus weekend teaching at the Bishop Kemper School for Ministry in Topeka, on which excursion we also got to share a meal in Lawrence at the Mad Greek with good friends Jim and Bev Carothers—who sent us off to Topeka with a great ‘care package’ of goodies from Wheatfields! While in KC, we had a day at the Nelson-Atkins, taking in three wonderful exhibits, one of which, “Testimony,” was a stunning display of African American art, much of it contemporary. And on the way home from Topeka, a wonderful lunch with old friend and Lincoln artist Roger Bruhn and Pat.

One quick trip to Hastings to visit with Betty Kort, former Director of the Cather Foundation when I was its President, who had a wonderful exhibit of her photographs, drawings, and poetry at the gallery in Good Samaritan, and then on to Red Cloud to deliver the “Cather Cottonwoods” sketch by former UNK professor Elmer Holzrichter that we bought at the fundraiser for St. Luke’s elevator project.

I’m in the midst of teaching three classes on Spiritual Gifts at St. Luke’s in December, and Nancy has kept up with her work on the steering committee for Kearney Action Network (KAN), which issued in two wonderful programs they sponsored, one by Dr. Claude Louishomme on Critical Race Theory and one by Dawn Darling and Misty Schaecher on current issues in physical and mental health care. Under the direction of Janet Fox, KAN specializes in shedding light on topics where clarity and sense are often shouted down by loudly expressed ignorance!

Still, many opportunities and wish lists are on hold during COVID, so one more reason to hope COVID passes from a health crisis to a normal feature of our medical lives.

In other news

George became the “hook up” guy for the summer RV vacation that his wife Laura Grace and daughter Greta planned…their son Huck became a camp ambassador with the others who were nearby at their RV camp. George is also the acolyte trainer for Mount Olive LCMS. And, oh yes, also President of the congregation.

The Peeks in their rented RV. Laura Grace in the driver’s seat

Not sure when Laura Grace had time to plan the RV jaunt, but she is now working from home on contract, part of America’s new world of work.

When not vacationing with the family, grandson Will caught a pass for a successful 2-point score after a touchdown and became officially a “great player.” No doubt some role was played in all this by his Confirmation earlier this year. The photo with a smiling Will and his friend among the Marquette cheer squad may suggest a young man who turned 13 this month!

Willie and his basketball teammate with Marquette cheer leaders

Greta is now taking her Confirmation training as well as being the “small and mighty” addition to Mout Olive’s 5^th/6^th grade volley ball team. And Lou at 3 has mastered how to make calls on Huck’s phone!

Greta reading to Lou–no wonder he’s growing up so quickly

Like Huck, Greta was also intrepid on the rope climb at the Milwaukee Zoo

After his spring graduation from Cedar Bluffs, Harlan and Noelle’s son Brody opted to enroll at Simpson in Iowa and play football, but the coming semester will find him transferring from Simpson to UNL, a better fit for his interests in Sports Administration.

Brody with his mother at Simpson’s Homecoming (Harlan behind the camera?)

We hosted our “favorite oldest” grandson Rowan Ptomey for a wonderful weekend together. His big news of the year has included both a change in jobs to work for LBT, Inc, makers of liquid and bulk tankers (located just blocks from his apartment) and taking enough flying lessons at Eppley to make both his solo and his first cross country flight.

Rowan, his checklist, preparing for take-off

Our daughter Noelle Ptomey co-chaired a Diocesan-wide study program called Sacred Ground, an in-depth 20 week look at racism in America and how we, as a church and as individuals, can change. Our circle of 10 had rich conversations over the readings and videos that form the core of the Sacred Ground curriculum, a part of our Presiding Bishop’s mission called Becoming the Beloved Community. She also does a lot of substitute teaching at Cedar Bluff’s great K-12 school. And she supports her husband, the Superintendent. It has been a challenging year in Nebraska for public schools and their leaders. Son-in-law Harlan Ptomey has had to become savvy about keeping his school on track amidst lots of organized assaults on schools, and all that in addition to the full-time job of a Superintendent. That and keeping on top of his fantasy sports lineups! He and Brody are stopping for a night en route to Denver for a Broncos game!

Harlan, in a photo taken for the Fremont newspaper

We were able to spend the Thanksgiving weekend with the Ptomey’s—a feast on Thanksgiving Day, another heart-breaking Husker loss the day after, and a great brunch that Noelle organized to welcome our friend Carla Brooke to her new home in Omaha. Dori Brooke Roth, her mother-in-law Jan, and close friend from Kearney Pam Lowenstein joined Rosemary Northwall and Amy Northwall Schicke, Nancy and me at Taxi’s for a wonderful couple of hours, after which Noelle and Nancy and I took Eric Ewing’s fine tour of the Great Plains African American Museum in north Omaha.

Noelle Ptomey, Nancy Peek, Rosemary Northwall, Amy Schicke, Carla Brook, Dori Roth, Chuck Peek, Jan Roth (picture by Pam Lowenstein)

Holidays made more joyful by visits with Linda Clark in McCook and Scott Taylor while he was  back in Grand Island from Bartlesville, and hearing from Scott and Chuck’s old colleagues from GI days, Stephen and Caroline Price-Gibson, as well as from the Daly’s, all four of whose children I baptized at Grace Church, Red Cloud…the oldest now 13. Heard, too, from the Mullens, friends in Alaska from way back in our undergraduate days at NU, and received old friend from Flagstaff days, Nancy Ostheimer’s annual reading list.

Besides teaching for our Senior College and at the Bishop Kemper School for Ministry, I’ve been working hard with our editorial board on making our website Kearney Creates something which benefits the community. So lucky to be joined in this effort by Kate Benzel, Jerry Fox, Lauren Bonk, Rick Brown, Nathan Tye, and a host of contributing editors. One of the highlights of Kearney’s arts scene this fall was the 50^th reunion concert by Timberline, which started here as a local group. Nancy and I were able to be part of the full house at the Merryman Performing Arts Center along with Tom and Jan Paxson.  We also got to see Crane River’s wonderful performance of Miracle Worker on the grounds of the Trails and Rails Museum (another full house) and to go with the Darts to see KCT’s holiday show, The Game’s Afoot. Greg Fox joined us for a UNK basketball game, Janice Wiebusch and her sister Mary were up from St. Joseph, MO, and we joined them to be treated to dinner by Rosemary Northwall, and friend and artist Jeremy Daniels came over from Hastings so we could catch up and attend the panel discussion of the Museum of Nebraska Art’s expansion plans (and the year or more closure to accommodate them.) I’ll be reading with Terry Lee Schifferns at Prairie Art Brothers opening reading for 2022.

Our prayer for our country is from Thomas Paine’s The American Crisis: “Let it be told to the future world, that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive, that the city and country, alarmed at . . .  common danger, came forth to meet and repulse it.”

Very best wishes from the Peeks for your Holiday Season!

(a poem and an actual sort-of footnote with a link follow)

Instead of a Christmas poem, the following seems appropriate for this year!

Home Again

                        Celebrating the end of your chemo-therapy tomorrow

So long ago now it seems like a minor miracle

to remember it so vividly, you and I

leaving the secluded copse on the far side

of the field next over from yours, its promise of reprieve

from the preoccupation of most of our neighbors

with their imagination of our intimacy, their disapproval,

and then how, crossing the field, the rain began

gently at first, leaving only tiny spots that bloomed

on our blouses, the drops soon greater in number,

the spots swelling until, nearly drenched,

we sought the day’s second shelter, the old tree line,

that separated the two farms, worlds really,

recalling it now as I see the grease splatters

from the bacon pan begin to dot my shirt

as I fix your breakfast, the meal you most

still enjoy because, as you chortle to friends,

“I’ve still got my appetite and my teeth,”

closing your act by singing quite off key

the lyric “Who could ask for anything more?”

and as I bring the breakfast to your tray,

both of us thankful we can still be in our own

home, yet thinking how wonderful it once felt

to find just the right time and place to get away.

                                                                        Kearney, Nebraska

                                                                                          June 29, 2021

*Sadly, if you want to know what’s facing the State in which we live, here’s a link: https://www.politico.com/news/2021/11/02/trump-pete-herbster-charles-ricketts-nebraska-518392