Occasionally my husband obsesses about one thing or another, usually involving food. Not really in a bad way — just in a slightly annoying way. Once it was about eating at a supper club near Minocqua called Wisconsonaire. Whenever we’d pass it he’d say, “Wisconsonaire.” We eventually ate there and he decided it was not what he’d hoped and now has a slight distaste for “Supper Clubs”. Another of his obsessions was a restaurant we used to pass by when we drove to a couple of wrestling meets to watch our son wrestle. It was a huge lodge-type place in Rockville that he’d eaten at once before and thought I’d enjoy it. He was right about that one. We’ve been to Clyde’s Tower Oaks Lodge a few times and plan to go back again. His latest obsession turned out to be the best: Donna’s Diner in Elyria, Ohio.
When we were discussing when we should leave Bethesda for Oberlin, Ohio to visit our son for Family Weekend, Dean thought we should time it so we could eat lunch at Donna’s Diner. I asked him what Donna’s Diner was and he said he read about it in the NY Times. I thought he’d seen an ad or review for it and that it must be special if a newspaper in New York mentioned a restaurant in Ohio. I did look up Donna’s Diner, and found a Website for one that looked like fun, but then saw that it was in Pennsylvania.
When I searched for “Donna’s Diner” and “Ohio” and “NY Times” I found an article about a down-on-its-heels town and a diner that looked less fun than the one in Pennsylvania. I didn’t have time to read the article, but put it on my to-do list.
We didn’t eat lunch at Donna’s Diner on the way to see Andrew, but did drive through Elyria, Ohio — the subject of the NY Times article — and saw where Donna’s Diner was located. We considered eating dinner there, but were not sure it was open for dinner. What struck me, however, was the fact that they offered a Mac-and-cheese bar: “Your Way!” “Made Fresh”.
The next day Dean suggested we go to Elyria for lunch and Andrew was up for it. We parked close-by and walked into the diner. We were seated right away and asked what was a “must-have” on the menu. The hostess suggested the Donna Burger. I asked about the Mac-and-cheese bar but it was not set up. Our server called back “Nanna — can you set up the mac-and-cheese bar?” Nanna (aka Donna) called back, “Yes — it will only take me a minute.”
So that’s how Dean, Diane, Andrew and I got to eat at Donna’s Diner and meet the star of a 5-part article from the New York Times. Andrew and I had a nice conversation with her about the article and her plans for a “White Christmas” themed event around Christmas. She hoped to get some Oberlin students involved — perhaps with caroling around the city square.
The food was very good. Dean loved his Donna Burger and Andrew enjoyed his Reuben My mac-and-cheese was rich and delicious (I opted for garlic, chives and mushrooms) and far too much for me to eat on my own. Andrew got to take it back to his dorm room for later consumption.
I finally read the Donna’s Diner part of the NY Times article this morning. She and I have some things in common — we are nearly the same age, her father was in the Navy. We both grew up in Midwestern towns that begin with the letter E — and Elyria reminds me a little of Elgin. But about the time I was getting ready to go to England for the first time she was pregnant with her first child. She’s had to struggle. I’ve had life easy. She’s an icon in her hometown. I rarely visit my hometown, having moved away decades ago.
I’m so glad we got to visit Donna’s Diner and I hope that it is around for a long time. I hope that the article helps the diner and the town somehow. We’ll go back for lunch when we visit Oberlin — that much is certain.
Oh, and that other Donna’s Diner? The one in Pennsylvania? I’m sure it is not nearly as nice or friendly or fun or delicious as Donna’s Diner in Elyria, Ohio.
ElyriaDean and Andrew outside Donna’s DinerDean with menu at Donna’s Diner
In 1979 I spent a semester in London attending Southlands College and student teaching at a local primary school. The teacher with whom I did my teaching practice had a set of books in her classroom that I fell in love with and when I finished my student teaching, she gave me several titles in the collection. I’m pretty sure that I was the first person in Elgin to have copies of these books because they didn’t hit the States until a few years later. I remember being delighted yet dismayed to see the books being sold in a bookstore in Pittsburgh. Delighted because I could now easily purchase more of the books and dismayed because I was not unique in that respect any longer.
I used these books for lessons when I was a teacher because I loved the simple drawings, the life-lessons and the high vocabulary they offered. The books may have been small picture books, but when I did a readability evaluation on a few passages in several books found they were at the 5th grade reading level.
When my own children were old enough to care about books, I brought the books home and read to them from the books. We had fun laughing over the silly characters and the situations in which they found themselves.
The books are still in the house somewhere and while I’ve not seen them recently, thought about them the other day and made a mental note to blog about the set of books sometime soon.
Today when I saw the series of Google Doodles I knew that today was the day to write about Mr Men.
My favorite was Mr. Chatterbox and I never really liked the Little Miss books. They seemed more like an afterthought to me and not nearly as funny as the originals.
Pastor Keith Fry of Christ the Lord Lutheran Church, Elgin, IL
Most of you know by now that my father died in October. I’m not ready to talk about that here, if ever. What I want to talk about, instead, is an incredible man I met in September, but got to know much better in October.
Pastor Keith Fry is the pastor of my mom’s church, Christ the Lord Lutheran Church in Elgin, Illinois. Mom only recently started going to this church, finally giving into her friends’ invitations to attend. I think she’s gone to this church just over a year.
I liked Pastor Keith as soon as I met him in September at my mom’s book group where they discussed Take this Bread by Sara Miles. I met him again the following Sunday when I attended church with my mom. His sermon mentioned someone he’d discussed at the book group — a friend he’d made in Washington DC who had nothing, yet gave him a gift. That tipped me off that this man was a man to whom connections were important.
When, three weeks ago, my mom’s church friends alerted Pastor Keith that my dad was on life support and in critical condition at St. Joesph hospital, he made a trip to the hospital that night. By then my mom and brother had left — knowing that there was little they could do for Dad and they both needed a good night’s sleep in order to have a clear mind to make whatever decisions needed to be made in the coming days. I’m sure Pastor Keith prayed over/for/about my father and for my mom for strength. He probably also got information from the nursing staff on Dad’s condition.
He showed up on Tuesday morning as well, this time offering support by way of prayer and information. He asked a few questions about our family — he really didn’t know Mom that well — so wanted to know if we had other siblings, what we did for a living, how many kids we had, where we lived, etc. None of what we told him was of any use, really, but, as I mentioned earlier, Pastor Keith is a man to whom connections are important. He wanted to know us in order to connect. At least, that’s what I think he was doing.
On Wednesday and Thursday he was always a phone call away and on Thursday evening my brother called him to tell him that we’d need his support on Friday morning.
I’m not sure what we would have done without Pastor Keith’s support on Friday morning. He was a calm presence the room. He was knowledgeable about the process. He was there when we needed him, but it was not as if there was a stranger in the room with us — more like a dear friend. Most of all, he assured us we were doing the right thing.
All the while we were together, Pastor Keith must have been taking mental notes. He was storing our words, actions, and stories in a file in his head. I know this because he gave the most touching funeral sermon I’ve ever heard — taking what he’d observed the past week, what he’d heard from us the past week, and what he’d seen in a slideshow I posted on Facebook (yes, Pastor Keith is on Facebook). If there is a prize for funeral sermons, this one is a sure winner. It is posted after the break if you want to read it.
One of the memories I shared with Pastor Keith that morning was my vision of Heaven: When my Uncle Don died when I was 6 years old I couldn’t really process it until President Kennedy was assassinated. Then I wondered if they’d meet in Heaven. I pictured Uncle Don and President Kennedy sitting at a table drinking beer. As more and more people that I knew or admired died, they joined the table. If you read the sermon, you’ll see that Pastor Keith really listened.
Unfortunately I don’t have the gift of listening that Pastor Keith possesses. I’d like to tell you more about him, but all I know for sure is that he grew up in Texas, the son of a Baptist minister. He has siblings — maybe 3 or 4? He used to be in publishing, but about 5 years ago decided to go to Seminary. My mom’s church is his first congregation. They love him (I know, I read it on Facebook). I think I love him too.
Sermon: Elvin Patrick Funeral Texts: Isaiah 25 and John 11 Preached: October 26, 2010 at CTL
Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and from Christ Jesus, who is resurrection and life. AMEN
I’m one of those strange people who has always been fascinated by other people’s family photos. As I watched the slide show of the pictures of Elvin that Dona put together and posted on Facebook, and then again at the funeral home last evening, I saw glimpses of a life. A young man in a Navy uniform embracing an even younger Patricia whom he had recently met at the Moose Lodge as they stand in front of a car that was old even then, with Patricia looking adoringly at him. A middle-aged man building a fence around the backyard… perhaps to shield from the neighbors’ view the orphaned washing machines he had brought home to work on. A young father holding his children Dona and Kevin, and then a grandfather gently holding sleeping grandchildren, or playing with them on walkie-talkies, or playing Santa. A tall man posing with his shorter brother-in-law Don in their Doberman t-shirts, just having a good time for the camera. A man in a somewhat grubby bathrobe tinkering in the garage, clearly a guy who could fix just about anything. A Depression-era boy standing in stiff pose with the farm folk not so very far from here. A middle-aged man loading up a rusted-out van—the same van, I learned last evening, that was used to carry Christmas gifts for the Moose Lodge to be given to needy children. A 12- or 13-year old boy standing proudly in a suit and tie with his confirmation class in the Covenant church in Lily Lake, having just affirmed the promise of his baptism, that I believe took place in that same church.
Now, more linear folks, or those with more time available, might have sequenced those pictures in chronological order, starting with the little boy on the dangerous-looking tricycle, and ending with the older man sitting in his easy chair. But you know, I loved the fact that the pictures were in totally random order, because that’s the way our memories really work, isn’t it? Past and present get all mixed together and blended. Things that happened 50 years ago can seem as though they were moments ago, and yet we can’t remember whether we had breakfast this morning. In later years, Elvin’s memories had become more confused, and often blurry. 82 years can really pack in a lot of memories. The older memories sometimes are the ones that come most easily, though…and often they are the sweetest.
In looking at those pictures, I was struck by how many of them were taken at banquets and parties. Wedding banquets, with Elvin dancing with his wife, or his daughter, or daughter-in-law. A 25th-anniversary banquet with a beautiful cake on the table waiting to be sliced. Backyard barbeques with grills smoking and Old Style flowing. Moose picnics with gingham tablecloths fluttering and an Oscar-Meyer Weiner mobile standing at the ready. Family holiday gatherings with rich food and bottles of wine and a peppermint pig about to be hammered to bits. And some sort of gathering where everybody is wearing slightly goofy—OK, totally goofy—paper crowns. You can explain that one to me later. But feasting and partying and enjoying life and relationships…those things jumped out at me as I looked at Elvin’s memories, at the memories that you share with him.
The reading from Isaiah that we heard Andrew read a few moments ago tells us that God is all about banqueting. In that beautiful passage, we hear that the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples on his holy mountain a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. That banquet is the vision that God gives to us of our future. That feast is God’s plan for us, God’s desire for us. God delights in throwing us a party. It’s a feast where all the hurts of this life that have caused us pain, all those things that bring tears to our eyes, will be wiped away. All those things that we’ve been ashamed of will be taken away, removed from our sight, wiped from our memory and from God’s. It actually says that God himself will wipe those tears away from our cheeks. And at that banquet, it says that the shroud that covers us, the sheet that blocks our vision and clouds our minds, that mortality that causes our bodies and minds to age and weaken, will be ripped away. Death itself will be destroyed. And we will feast, feasting beyond our imagining.
Elvin is already enjoying that feast. His mind is clear once more, any pains of this life removed, any tears that might have flowed dried by God’s own hand as gently as Kevin wiped a tear from his father’s face as he breathed his last breath. And no paper crown for Elvin, because he has now been crowned with God’s faithful love and mercy. That’s just how God is. You see, God’s memory is long, and God’s memory is sure and certain. God remembers the child that God claimed in baptism all those years ago, God remembers that adolescent boy who was confirmed and sealed with God’s own Spirit, and as we lay Elvin to rest this morning in the cemetery just yards away from the church where those things happened, we have the assurance that God has welcomed Elvin to the feast that does not end, and that God will welcome us, as well.
In a few moments, we will gather at this table to taste and see the goodness of God. As we gather, we come for a foretaste of the great banquet that Elvin already enjoys. At this table, we join in that rich feast, surrounded by that great cloud of witnesses who already see God face to face. We come remembering the good things that God has done throughout history, but we come also remembering the good gifts that God has given to each of us. We come giving thanks that God remembers God’s promises. We come with gratitude that God’s memory of our failings is wiped out. We come in our sorrow to allow God to wipe away our tears. We come with thankfulness for our brother Elvin’s life. We come with joy, remembering God’s promises that death itself has been destroyed and that we can enjoy life that has no end. Thanks be to God. AMEN
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