November 2021
Dear Luther College Classmates of 1953,
“It is, Sir, as I have said, a small college. And yet there are those who love it.”
Thus spoke Daniel Webster, addressing the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States in 1818. He was representing Dartmouth College in defense of the validity of a contract, when Dartmouth faced a move by the State of New Hampshire to make it a state university. I will spare you the details of the case. Suffice to say that the ruling of the Court in favor of Dartmouth College is credited with the security of contracts generally, which in turn guaranteed the independence of small colleges in our society. I suggest we borrow Webster’s language as a signal of affection for our alma mater through good and evil days.
Ah! The pandemic! It’s a challenge for institutions as well as for individuals. But sometimes challenges strengthen our commitments and awaken our ingenuity. We can end up better than we were; perhaps transformation is not too much to hope for. Think back to the 1960s, when the Civil Rights Movement, the Feminist Movement and the Anti-War Movement converged to threaten the tranquility of colleges and universities throughout our society. The world that emerged from that chaos is not perfect. However, opportunities for minorities have significantly diversified colleges and universities; my granddaughters assume that they can choose any profession that appeals to them; and, OOPS!, I guess we have not eliminated war.
Fortunately, college life has recovered enough to display some glow. In person classes are the norm; extracurricular activities are “active.” From my perspective as audience, the music ensembles at Luther are flourishing. They were all in fine form for Homecoming weekend. Christmas at Luther will dazzle audiences again in a few weeks. I will attend on Sunday, and I hope to see some of you there. We humans long to be in company with others; we flourish from face-to-face meetings. Each new sign of relief from isolation is cause for rejoicing. What better way to greet the opening than through the hearing of our fundamental story!
Returning to my opening line—though we are a small college, some who have spent four years at Luther have attracted attention from the larger world. For example, I have met Michael Osterholm (Luther ’75), infectious disease specialist at the University of Minnesota, frequently over the past year and a half of the pandemic—in the news media, in Zoom lectures, etc. Recently David Leonhardt, in his morning introduction for the New York Times, kept readers up to date on pandemic matters based on daily contact with Osterholm. Mike is also a member of our Board of Regents and has assisted President Ward with Covid protocols for the Luther College community.
Last week I attended via Zoom the memorial service for Arne Sorenson (Luther ’80), President and CEO of Marriott International and a member of the Luther College Board of Regents. The memorial service was held in the National Cathedral in Washington, DC. There were numerous references to Luther College; to the “Whippy Dip”, the drive-in snack shop on College Drive, owned and operated by the parents of Arne’s Wife, Ruth Christenson, when her father was the pastor of First Lutheran Church; and to canoeing on the Upper Iowa River. Arne died of cancer at the relatively young age of 62, a sad ending to an incredible career.
The Phi Beta Kappa Symposium, via Zoom during one of the Homecoming weekends, featured three Luther alumnae who have earned doctorates in the field of music in recent years and now hold positions of major responsibility. It was inspiring to hear the discussion of their work. Against the backdrop of the rancor and divisions in our society currently, it is refreshing to observe evidence that our graduates are out there doing good work in the service of humanity generally, over and above all divisive partisanship.
President Ylvisaker often talked about the Luther College family. I have sometimes thought that family was too confined a metaphor for how we experience human interaction. However, more recently I find the metaphor a proper way to describe our lives together, both in limited small groupings, but also on planet earth. We are finally one human family, dependent on one another and responsible for one another. The time for insular thinking is over. Earth is the only home we have, and we share it with a lot of other people and living things.
We are closing in on two years since I last composed a letter for our Luther College Class of 1953. You’ve shared this gap with me, so I don’t need to review the reasons. I moved to an assisted living apartment a year prior to the pandemic, and that move has proved a blessing for me. The residents follow the protocol of masking whenever outside the apartment and all have readily accepted the available vaccines—no apparent divisions here on such matters. Together we constitute an agreeable and conflict free community. The digital world of contact is a wonder—Zoom, e-mail, Facebook, et al.—but presence is basic to human happiness.
I am guessing that we all either are or will soon be nonagenarians, four score years and ten. We’ve stretched by twenty years the standard observed by the poet of Psalm 90 many centuries ago. However, though we have surpassed the poet’s three score years and ten, a later line of the poem bears close attention: “So teach us to number our days that we may get us a heart of wisdom.” I wonder, do you suppose that applies to listing our beneficiaries? Just asking.
Cheers! Good to be back!
