DECEMBER 2009

An Immigrant’s Arrival in America

By Alfred Sandstrom

After barely five days at sea aboard the S.S. United States, then the fastest passenger ship afloat, I was an excited 17-year-old boy walking to the farthest point accessible in the bow of the ship. The sun was only evident as a faint pink band on the eastern horizon behind me, but ahead in the murky west it was very clear that we were no longer far out to sea. I could see a string of faint pearls of light traveling back and forth. Car headlights in the early morning!

As the sun barely rose, the pink glow extended all across the sky, and there appeared an apparition that has made the throats of untold numbers of immigrants constrict with emotion. A crowned lady holding aloft a shining beacon. What a sight!

My older brother had preceded me to the U.S. by two years, and had obtained summer employment at the Pitcairn’s summer estate in upstate New York. He had received permission to drive down to New York City to retrieve me. In anticipation of meeting my brother again, I hurried through customs and began searching through that enormous, crowded space for him. Six hours later I was still looking!

Where on this wide continent was my brother?

Suddenly there was soft voice behind me; “Pardon me, but would you happen to be Alfred Sandstrom?” I whirled around and before me stood a short, cherubic lady with a halo of white hair. In a flash the name came to me: “Aunt Nene!!!” (aka Cornelia Stroh.) who had lived and worked in New York for years. The fact that she had by now been lifted off of her feet and was being whirled about by an overly excited teenager was answer enough.

My brother, it turned out, had managed to totally destroy Mr. Pitcairn’s automobile on one of Manhattan’s many death-trap streets and even with filing all of the police reports and insurance claims, he had the presence of mind to call upon my saving angel to ride to my rescue. He showed up at Aunt Nene’s apartment a few hours later with a bloody nose and a scraped cheek. I hugged him carefully!

We arrived, courtesy of Greyhound, in upstate New York much later that evening and were greeted at the station by a bunch of enthusiastic youths who treated me to Pizza. (How they ever had the gall to call that a “pie” confused me no end, but it sure tasted good!)

After a few weeks as a (barely) working guest of the Pitcairns I had the notion that Americans all live rather well!

Dorm life cured me of that.

HUMOR

Hello and welcome to the mental health hotline:

If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5 and 6.

If you are delusional press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship.

If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your name, address, phone number, date of birth, social security number and your mother’s maiden name.

If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All our operators are busy and they don’t want to talk to you anyway.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.

Actual words spoken in court:

Question: All your responses must be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
Answer: Oral.

Q. How old is your son – the one living with you?
A. Thirty-eight or thirty-five. I can’t remember which.

Q. How long has he lived with you?
A. Forty-five years.

PERSONAL HAPPENINGS

On Thursday, Sept. 24, 2009, at about 8:20 AM, I was waiting with Vita and her mother for the school bus to arrive. It was chilly and Vita mentioned that she was cold. So Irena returned to her home to get a warmer and larger jacket for Vita. As she put it over Vita’s lighter jacket, I wrapped my arms around myself as if to say, “That’s a lot warmer.” Irena and Vita smiled at my gesture and then 6-year-old Vita commented, “I guess the bus will be boiling hot when I get into it.” Hey, sometimes we adults just can’t win with perceptive and playful kids around.

Last spring I was sitting in a chair in the Michael Tower of the Cathedral. A young man, about 28 years old, a member of the Bryn Athyn society, whose name I have forgotten, stopped as he walked from the Michael Tower room into the Vestibule. He smiled rather patronizingly toward me and said something to the effect that now that Bruce Glenn’s Cathedral book was about to be republished, I and my Cathedral book soon would be ancient history. I do not recall his exact words, but his contempt for me was quite obvious. Then he quickly departed, apparently not wanting any response from me. So what else in new – a little hatred is vented and the human conduit for its flames quickly runs for darkness, which may have been true in this case. There is something about facts and the light of truth that is frightening to those who love the dark world of contempt.

My response to him then would have been, “There is no conflict between Bruce Glenn’s and Michael Pitcairn’s book and my book. They are quite compatible. Also I believe that my former English teacher would be proud of my literary offering. We, probably, would agree that more books should have been written about the Cathedral. However many people associated with the Cathedral preferred not to write books – too bad. I might add that so far about 300 copies of my book have been distributed. If anyone believes they have found errors in it, my response has always been, “Please tell what they are and I will be very happy to make corrections.” So far, unkind criticisms have been of the occasional sneak attack type – all noise and no substance. However I have received lots of appreciation especially from the Cathedral guides. Thanks, friends.

PLUTARCH (c.46-120 AD)

Neither blame or praise yourself.

The wildest colts make the best horses.

To make no mistakes is not in the power of man; but from their errors and mistakes the wise and good learn wisdom for the future.

What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

Do not speak of your happiness to one less fortunate than yourself.

Fate leads him who follows it, and drags him who resists.

I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.

Nothing is harder to direct than a man in prosperity; nothing more easily managed than one in adversity.

Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome when they are together, yield themselves up when taken little by little.

The omission of good is no less reprehensible than the commission of evil.

Silence at the proper season is wisdom, and better than any speech.

Prosperity is no just scale; adversity is the only balance to weigh friends.

An imbalance between rich and poor is the oldest and most fatal ailment of all republics.

In words are seen the state of mind and character and disposition of the speaker.

Know how to listen, and you will profit even from those who talk badly.

CHRISTMAS ITEMS

“I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked me for my autograph.” - Shirley Temple

“Merry Christmas, Nearly Everybody.” - Ogden Nash

“There has been only one Christmas – the rest are anniversaries.” - W.J. Cameron

“Peace on earth will come to stay, when we live Christmas every day.” - H. Steiner

“Before the ice is in the pools,
Before the skaters go,
Or any creek at nightfall
Is tarnished by the snow,

Before the fields have finished,
Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder
Will arrive to me!” - Emily Dickinson

“Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas.” - Calvin Cooledge

“Every time we love, every time we give, it’s Christmas.” - Dale Evans

MORE PERSONAL HAPPENINGS

On Monday, October 5th I went to Cairncrest. My goal was to go up the stairs to the Office of Education. It had been about ten years since I had been in this building but I knew its layout quite well. After I entered it from the courtyard, two secretaries greeted me. They offered to direct me but I declined and walked to my right. I knew that the stairwell leading to the Office of Education was about a 25-foot walk. I arrived at the door to the stairwell and opened it. Bishop Brian Keith, sitting at his desk, looked up at me. Both of us had startled and amused expressions on our faces. Then I glanced at the floor and I asked, “Where is the staircase?” He smiled broadly as I wondered what had happened to the stairs. He was well aware of my confusion and in a kindly manner told me to go a few steps to my right and I would find the door leading to the stairwell. I said, “Thank you Brian” and departed. The next time I see him, I intend to ask him why they moved the stairs that had been there since the 1920s – and thus continue my state of apparent mental confusion. But no, I am not losing it, I just had been preoccupied with what I was going to say to the officials at the Office of Education.

WATER

On Monday, Oct. 12th, at about 10:30 p.m., I noticed a wet stain on the ceiling of the dining room. Rushing upstairs I found pipe spouting a small stream of water. Fortunately there was a shut-off valve nearby. Then two days later at about 7:00 a.m. the water ceased flowing out of the spigots – a pipe had broken in the ground at the intersection of Newell and Woodward Drives. And now, the weekend of Oct. 17th and 18th we are experiencing the rain from two consecutive lower pressure systems – nor’easters. Oh joy. Too little or too much water – too few or too many doctrinal facts bringing the waters of spiritual truths into our minds, can present problems. They involve our ability to absorb, which varies according to our emotional states, it seems to me. Anyway we definitely do need water and truth to survive. I suppose that those who really do not love the living waters of truth, live in a desert, even after death. What foolishness it is not to love truth.

NICK AND DENISE (BURNHAM) PERNA’S CHILDREN

By Denise

Gracie Girl came running into the room, chapping her hands, announcing, “That was SO much fun!” When I asked what was so much fun, she said, “You don’t even wanna know, Mommy.”

I think that JJ may be too involved with Webkinz. He just told me that he saw two Goldfinchkinz at our [bird] feeder.

Gracie Girl: “Mommy, sometimes I like you and sometimes I don’t like…eggs.”

JJ, during a Geography lesson: “Mom, I have just one question: Do people in Antartica realize that they’re upside-down?”

JJ was saying his prayers, and I heard him pray: “…and please help E with his eczema and with his allergies, and with his attitude.”

Gracie Girl: “Let’s play baseball, E. you be the pitcher and I’ll be the watcher.”

E presented me with a handful of leaves that he’d torn off the top of a bush, saying, “You a pwincess, Mommy.”

Gracie Girl, after running around the house [said]: “Mommy, I can hear my heart beeping.”

JJ pulled me outside to see his work. He’d colored our “boring” bricks on the home different shades of purple, pink and blue. He said that, instead of Graffiti, it was chalkkiti.

QUOTATIONS FROM SWEDENBORG

…for evil is nothing else than a turning away from good….

…and he who loves himself cannot possibly humble himself from the heart; for he sets himself up, because he regards himself in everything, and makes small account of what is outside of himself.

For the Lord does not openly teach any one truths, but through good leads to the thinking of what is true….

For when a man dies, he does not die, but only lays aside the body which had served him for use in the world, and he passes into the other life in a body which serves him for use there.

…for in hell morning is the heat of cupidities, noon is the itching of falsities, evening is anxiety, and night is torment.

A man who is being regenerated is at last so far reduced by repeated alternations of desolation and sustenance that he no longer wills to be his own, but the Lord’s….

But when he is affected with truth for the sake of life, he then rejects glory and reputation as ends, and embraces the good of life, that is, charity toward the neighbor.

Thus is it with the Word, which as to each and all things has descended from the Lord and passed through heaven down into the world; in the descent it has clothed itself with forms adapted to apprehension in the three heavens, and at last with a form adapted to the apprehension of man, which is the literal sense.

Moreover all the heresies in the church have arisen from those who have been in some truth from the Word, but not in good….

(The above quotations have been taken from the ARCANA COELESTIA, volume 8.)

FOR OLDER FOLKS

A row of bottles on my shelf caused me to analyze myself. One yellow pill I have to pop goes to my heart so it won’t stop. A little white one that I take goes to my hands so they won’t shake. The blue ones that I use a lot tell me I’m happy when I’m not. The purple one goes to my brain and tells me that I have no pain. The capsules tell me not to wheeze or cough or choke or even sneeze. The red ones, smallest of them all, go to my blood so I won’t fall. The orange ones, very big and bright prevent my leg cramps in the night. Such an array of brilliant pills help to cure all kinds of ills. But what I’d really like to know is what tells each one where to go?

There’s always a lot to be thankful for if you take the time to look for it. For example, I am sitting here right now thinking how nice it is that wrinkles don’t hurt.

I signed up for an exercise class and was told to wear loose fitting clothes. If I had any loose fitting clothes I wouldn’t have signed up for the class in the first place.

Brain cells come and brain cells go but fat cells stay forever.

Live a good honorable life. Then when you get older and think back on it, you’ll be able to enjoy it a second time.

You know you’re getting old when:

Your knees buckle and you’re belt won’t.

Caution is the only thing you care to exercise.

Everything hurts and what doesn’t hurt doesn’t work.

You stand beside your mail box and open the letter in your hand instead of mailing it.

HUMOR

Questions asked in court:

How far apart were the vehicles at the time of the collision?

You were there until the time you left, is that correct?

Were you present when your picture was taken?

SOUNDS WRONG

“Stop,” he babbled on.

“DON’T,” he whispered.

“Rats,” he cooed.

“Brake,” she screeched.

Old kings never die, they just get throne away.

Old journalists never die, they just get depressed.

PROVERBS

He that serves by the altar ought to live by the altar.

In times of prosperity friends will be plenty – in times of adversity, not one in twenty.

Sweep in front of your own door.

The darkest hour is that just before the dawn.