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A Laurel View

A Laurel View

Johnstown is a small city in western Pennsylvania about 56 miles east of Pittsburgh.  It sits nestled in the Laurel Mountains in the steep valley where the Conemaugh River meets the Stonycreek River. Once known for its coal, iron, and steel production, the evidence of those heydays now lie as empty relics over sprawling blocks of the once thriving city.  A victim of at least three major floods, one in 1889, one in 1936, and the last in 1977, it is now in a struggle to stage its comeback.

Old Orchard Way is at the top of the hill as you climb steeply up Sell Street.  On the corner, at 102 Old Orchard Way is the house as we have been told, that Arlene Ober’s grandfather built.  At the bottom of the hill on Sell Street near the intersection of Franklin stands the Roxbury Church of the Brethren, a beautiful old building of stone, large windows, and heavy wooden doors.  A young Arlene Ober would walk down that hill every Sunday, even in the cold and the snow and ice of the western Pennsylvania winters, hurrying so as not to be late for Sunday school.

Just inside those large, heavy wooden entrance doors that take you into the vestibule and then to the sanctuary, is a small sign on the left that marks the Heritage Room.  On the walls are old photos, newspaper articles, and even a vintage quilt that is proof that this was once a large and vibrant congregation.  In the corner is a mannequin of an early Brethren woman in what was the traditional dress of the time.   Another photo we saw on the piano in the sanctuary was of a large group that included young people and children, dated 1938, that no doubt included a young Arlene Ober, though it was beyond our ability to discern.

 

Kim and I were back in western PA for the weekend.  Kim’s mom Faye lives at Laurel View Village, a retirement community and assisted living in Davidsville, Pennsylvania just west of Johnstown. Named appropriately for its location along the Laurel Highlands and the scenic view of the Laurel Mountains, it’s a wonderful place. Saturday morning was the Que Classic (pronounced “kwee”) a 5 and 10 K walk and run held at the Quemahoning Dam, where the proceeds were to benefit Laurel View Village. So, wanting to support the cause, we signed up for the 5K, and though our running days are behind us, we managed to mix it up a bit and cross the finish line running.

Kim’s mom lives in an area designated as “personal care” meaning those residents are independent but require a little more assistance with activities of daily living. The more often we go up, the closer we get to the residents, Faye’s friends, and neighbors.  Sadly many, we have learned, have little contact with their families so they love to share their stories when the opportunity presents itself.  Once striking up a conversation, you can expect that out of the pockets of the attachments on their walkers, will come photos and other items that help to provide perspective to the details of their families and their lives before Laurel View Village.

Like our friend Arlene, many have Brethren roots, in fact, Kim’s family was raised or are still members of the Church of the Brethren.   I remember during the early years of our relationship and marriage I got pretty comfortable with my father-in-law preaching and sharing his beliefs with me, as a good dad should have, while he vetted me out on my position on the Big Guy.  The Brethren only have communion twice a year, it is called the Love Feast, and it involves the washing of one another’s feet, just as Jesus did at the Last Supper.  I was blessed to have shared that experience with my father-in-law once before he passed away.

 

Kim and Arlene (her married name Pfost), now relocated to Northern Virginia and practicing Methodists, would occasionally attend the local Dranesville Church of the Brethren for the Love Feast.  And even though there was a great difference in age since Arlene was born in 1935, they had plenty of similar experiences to share, like Camp Harmony in Kim’s Somerset County PA, a summer camp for Brethren youth that is still active and both Kim and Arlene attended as kids.

Before Arlene passed away last May, knowing we were beginning to make frequent visits to the Davidsville and the Johnstown area, she asked Kim if she would return the commemorative Roxbury Church of the Brethren plate that she had, back to the church of her childhood.  She said to go in the front door and there was a small room to the left containing the history of her church, and that is where she wanted it to remain.

This past Sunday, Kim and I returned Arlene’s plate to Roxbury.

Though it was Sunday morning, there was only one car in the parking lot.  We found the front doors unlocked and entered the vestibule and viewed the large and beautiful old sanctuary.  We saw the door on the left to the area that Arlene had described and eventually, I wandered around and found the church office.  In the office was an elderly woman and a more middle-aged man named Jim Mosholder.  I began to explain about Arlene and the reason for our surprise visit, and now with Kim present,  plate in hand, she told the story of Arlene’s request.  Kim presented the plate to Mr. Mosholder along with a bit of written history of Arlene’s life.

We spent some time in the Heritage Room viewing and reading and imagining the church as Arlene would have as a child.  On the wall was that very large quilt with hundreds of names of members sewn onto it.  Somewhere on that quilt of familiar western Pennsylvania names like Mishler, Ream, and Mosholder were the names of Sara Ober and Blodwen Ober.  Blodwen Ober was Arlene’s mother.  Sara, the best I could determine was Arlene’s sister who died in infancy.

The sign in the vestibule next to the entrance doors with the changeable numbers indicated the current number on the Sunday school roll as twenty-one, and the attendance the last two Sundays was five and seven.

But Roxbury Church of the Brethren is still surviving.

 

Arlene and our friends at Laurel View are of the generation of my mother and father and Kim’s mother and father.  We are blessed to have learned and be able to retell the stories our parents have shared and in some cases are still sharing.

We continue to have the honor and the joy of being able to share in the lives of Faye’s new friends and hear their stories.

For Kim and me, Arlene was a blessing.  It was a privilege to have known Arlene as a friend and a member of our church family and to have been able to be a part of her life and share that experience to a small degree.   This past Sunday I think we felt like we brought some closure to Arlene’s Johnstown memories and our commitment to our friend. Kim, who was unable to attend Arlene’s funeral due to an out-of-town business meeting,  felt at peace, walking the same walk up those steps and through the doors of the church that Arlene had described to her, coming down that hill to attend Sunday school.

 

Sunday afternoon I was reading a silly story on social media that was meant to be humorous, but it was the last line that made me think about Arlene:

“Life isn’t about how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the rain.”

Our friend Arlene, danced.

 

Roxbury Church of the Brethren

 

102 Old Orchard Way

 

Kim with “Roxie” an example of a Brethren woman of the past

 

The sanctuary

 

Kim with Jim Mosholder

 

The quilt in the Heritage Room

 

The quilt has the names of Blodwen Ober and Sara Ober.

 

The weekly attendance

 

Arlene on the left, with our friend Karen at my Kentucky Derby party in 2019. Arlene loved to watch the horse races.

 

The feature photo above is a selfie taken at the end of the Que Classic.

This was Kim and I crossing the finish line, and yes it looks like I am about to plant my face in the pavement, thankfully that did not happen.
The Christmas Letter 2021

The Christmas Letter 2021

It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on

From “River” a song by Joni Mitchell

 

I heard this song recently.

It’s a beautiful song.

But it’s kind of sad.

I guess we have all had times in our lives when we wished we had a river we could skate away on.

As I write this on an early December evening, I was reminded by a social media post that on this day one year ago, just a few weeks before Christmas, a friend of mine from my hometown of Oceanport, New Jersey had succumbed to complications of the Covid 19 virus.

His daughter posted a photo a few days ago also on social media, of this year’s Christmas decorations on their house with the comment “We didn’t even have a Christmas tree last year….but we decided to make up for it this year.”

Yeah, buddy.

I remember Christmases like that. The Christmas of 2002 when we had to have Christmas somewhere, anywhere but not at our home.  Too many memories for that, so we ended up in a house in Deep Creek, Maryland.  And the Christmas of 2018 when we didn’t put up a Christmas tree either for the first time in my life because we just weren’t feeling it.

But then in 2019, with the kids coming up from Florida we tried to regroup and be festive. And we had a nice Christmas.

Then just a few months later, the virus shut us down.

Christmas 2020 was spent spread out with Kim’s mom on Christmas Eve, my parents on Christmas Day, and the local kids a couple of days after Christmas.

Holiday distancing to allow for social distancing.

I am sure for Christmas 2020 there were probably many who wished they “had a river to skate away on. “

But this year, though not everything has returned to the way it was back in 2019, we are trying once again.

And like my friend’s daughter Michelle and her mom Linda and their family, again with the Florida kids coming up to Virginia for Christmas, we decided to try to make up for it this year too.

Kim and I were already a little ahead of the game preparing for this Christmas in that we had never taken our Christmas tree down from last year.

Yeah, I know that sounds weird, but it kind of fit in with all the other plants, even though it was artificial.

We decided we would enjoy it all year long.

So we decorated the tree for the Kentucky Derby, then the Preakness, and the Belmont. Then in July for the Haskell. Those Haskell hats remained on the tree until I finally took them down the weekend before Thanksgiving.

In fact, over the weekend in October when Savannah and Leon got married, Christian happened to find the one lone ornament from the Christmas before, that we overlooked taking down.

Appropriately so, it was an angel.

So, on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, with the angel continuing to watch over us, all those hats were replaced with Christmas ornaments.  And the decorating continued in the weeks that followed, inside and outside the house.

Joni, in her song “River,” goes on to explain she lives in a part of the world where everything is always green:

But it don’t snow here
It stays pretty green

Though the desire to escape is real, the hope of having a frozen river to skate away on, is just that, just a hope. A sad one maybe, we can’t always skate away from the unexpected.

Because the truth is:

It’s coming on Christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace

Christmas is coming.

And the Christmas season is a time of hope, a time of renewal, a time of anticipation of what is to come as we prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus on Christmas Day.  As well as to anticipate what that will mean for us in the coming New Year.

A time of joy and a time of peace.

And maybe… that hope, and that joy, and that peace is our “river.”

So put your skates on.

 

Postscript:

Kim and I would like to wish all our friends and family a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!  And a special Christmas blessing to all our new friends at the Laurel View Village in Davidsville, Pennsylvania, and Signature HealthCARE at Mallard Bay in Cambridge, Maryland.

It’s a Thursday evening and as I sit here writing wearing my vintage Troy Polamalu Bumblebee Pittsburgh Steelers jersey, I will soon need to put down my pen to prepare to watch the Steelers play the Vikings on Thursday Night Football, in hopes that by the time I rest my head on my pillow tonight I will not be wishing there will be a river, or maybe three rivers that I and all other Steelers fans could skate away on.

Lastly, I will leave you with another thought from another post I saw on social media today from our friends at Christ Church in Easton, Maryland that I thought was fitting:

Life requires many responsibilities of us each day, and so many of them don’t go according to how we had planned or expected. Joseph was required to go with Mary, his wife, back to his hometown of Bethlehem. We can wonder about his thoughts as he was navigating this tedious trek home. But what we know of is the miracle that took place there, after they arrive!

Heavenly Father, help us to keep our eyes on you as we respond to the many responsibilities that we face each day so that we don’t miss the blessings that you pour out. Amen.

 

Amen.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from all of us.

Namaan, Alexa, Cameron, Savannah, Leon, Christian, Ethan, Kim, Curt, Hayley, Malcolm, and Donny too.

 

Post Postscript (added for this post December 21, 2021)

Shortly after finishing this letter, my aunt, Joan Christiansen passed away.  I have referred to my Aunt Joan a couple of times before in these musings in You Are My Sunshine and Hello In There.  She was special.  We are all familiar with the proverb “it takes a village to raise a family.”  But more often, it takes family to raise a family.  When my sister, my brothers, and I and my cousins were kids, aunts and uncles were more like deputized parents.  They stepped up as they needed to cover one another and keep us all safe.  We shared our Christmases and Easters and other holidays too.  We shed some tears and lots of laughs.  We have many memories and on December 11 we had a little more of that sunshine taken away.

We sang “You Are My Sunshine” at her gravesite.

Prayers go out to my cousins and their kids and their kids too.

Here is “You Are My Sunshine” featuring my Aunt Joan.

Enjoy

My aunt, Joan Christiansen

 

The Haskell tree in July