One Book, One Bettendorf

I believe in Iowa. I believe in beautiful sunsets, golden fields, and friendly people. Although the state is often looked down upon for its apparent tedium (it was recently voted the least desirable vacation destination by Outside Magazine), Iowa really does have a lot to offer. Our home prices are low, the state is very picturesque, and there are plenty of activities and events to keep everyone busy.

The biggest benefit of calling Iowa home is the inexpensiveness and simplicity of just about everything! I love going to the grocery store and paying significantly less for a basket of goods than my bigger-state counterparts. A $1 million house is considered excessive in just about every area of the state; only a couple hundred thousand is needed to buy a palatial abode. Beyond prices, Iowans enjoy short commute times, thanks to our (almost) perpetually traffic-free roads. This all sounds boring, but being able to enjoy life to its fullest at a leisurely pace and reasonable price is great!

Although my home state has a reputation for being flat and not particularly attractive, I think otherwise. Many artists use Iowa as their inspiration for paintings, photography, and musical compositions because of its natural beauty and effortless splendor. Throughout Iowa are gorgeous miles of farmland, quant little rows of shops on quiet downtown streets, and even a few bustling cities that have concert halls, architectural gems, and museums galore. You have not lived until you have driven along an Iowa interstate and seen nothing but seemingly infinite fertile fields of green and gold out of your car window. Even though our unpredictable weather is a turnoff to many, where else is it snowy and cold in the morning, only to be sunny and 70 degrees by two o’clock in the afternoon?

Above all, however, are the hidden activities and festivals that are often known only to Iowans. Besides the famous Iowa State Fair, there are great music venues, magnificent holiday parades, and a host of other events to keep even the most reluctant visitor happy. My favorite part of the whole year is the Bix 7 race, held right here in Davenport. Seeing 15,000 runners make their way up the Brady Street hill, wind around scenic Kenwood Boulevard (also known at Bix 7 Boulevard), and then finish in the heart of our downtown is a cherished happening that I anticipate every year. It is experiences like this that make Iowa fun.

As the saying goes, “Is this Heaven? No, it’s Iowa”. Keeping with the stereotype of Iowans, I am pretty stubborn. I am thankful for the good ideals and open mind that my Midwestern upbringing has engrained in me, and I could see settling here for the rest of my life. After a phase of wanting to move far away from here after high school, I have decided that my state has too much going for it to simply leave forever once I reach college age. My great experiences have encouraged me to return here someday. I believe in Iowa.

Brendan Iglehart, 16

A legacy from my Dad was the importance of one’s “presence” at the wake/funeral of relatives, special friends, and co-workers in our lives.

When I was about ten, Doris, a special girl friend, close to my age, lived nearby. After a long illness, Doris died of a brain tumor. We both were attending Rainbow School, a one-room school for grades primary through eighth. While she was ill, I had a hard time understanding why she didn’t want to play any more, why she got sicker and sicker. Going to visit her always left me very sad and very confused. I often cried after we left their home. Life just didn’t seem fair!

When Doris went to live with Jesus, I was even more overwhelmed. Then there was talk of her funeral. Of course, Dad explained that he and Mom would be attending, and he felt that my brother and I should go with them. And, he further explained that I should be brave enough to share a few words with Doris’ parents, on my own, and he shared a few ideas of things to say. I did go up and said a few words, but I have no idea what I said, or whether it was appropriate. Then I ran (not walked) back to Mom and Dad. I do vaguely remember that her parents gave me a smile, and they told me how glad they were that I came. Also, my parents confirmed that I had done the right thing.

Later, when we were home, Dad and Mom explained that it was not real important what I said. Dad believed the important thing was “our presence,” which let the people know we cared deeply, and chose to be with them during a difficult time.

As the years passed by, I never forgot what he said. He and Mom always seemed to be there for the special people in their lives. Dad certainly was a very special person in my life. And many years late, after my husband’s death, my pastor encouraged me to take “Befriender Training” at Genesis Hospital, Davenport. We met once a week for nine months. I learned much in these classes, as they were very interesting and informative. Then I was qualified to call on hospital patients. Every visit was unique. Some patients have concerns about life and health issues. I listen carefully to their stories. I often pray with them. And I really feel blessed when they thank me for visiting them! I have been a “Befriender” for ten years.

I feel Dad’s encouragement to be “a presence”, and learning to listen carefully to peoples’ stories, has enriched my life in many ways. I have met so many interesting people. I will always be grateful for growing up in a home with caring values.

Thanks Dad for sharing the importance of being “a presence” at an early age. You were the greatest!

Ann Duede

I  realize God is the energy that created all things.  Our lives and environment change constantly. We are moving forward or sliding back.  I have found this to be true in all relationships, especially marriage. I decide each morning what special thing I can do today to please my spouse. This practice matured the love we felt for each other keeping our marriage interesting for over 60 years.

My wife and six children supported a move 150 miles away.  We regretted  some friends left behind, grieved, but  these friendships were not lost.  The move allowed us unlimited opportunities to develop new lifetime relationships.

Professionally trained as a Pharmacist, after two years of Naval Service, I was employed for 38 years in pharmaceutical marketing requiring diligent continuing education to remain current.  I observed practical applications from each interaction with thousands of physicians and other health professionals in many disease areas.  I became especially interested in the treatment of Diabetes, and remained a student of self-image psychology and physiology.

Feeling retirement is best served by commencing to do something worthwhile for others, I intended to offer a consultation service to individuals diagnosed with Type II Diabetes. It was widely recognized by 1984, that attaining and maintaining appropriate weight was key to controlling blood sugar in this type Diabetes.  Physicians and dieticians were disappointed by limited patient success.   Continued weight gain was the norm….

I commenced by spending nine months seeking a process that may change the way  patients look at food and exercise.   On the second Sunday of Easter, I experienced an insight from Romans 12:2.  After Mass, all three people I had in mind to share a trial program agreed to meet that week.

When twelve people showed up, I was inspired to begin a Wellness Ministry, available to anyone without charge.  This was a spiritually based, proven program yet, we had only limited success. We had to do better, I was guided to the needed change.  A then new concept in psychology, where participants learned the three basic principles Thought, Mind and Consciousness. They are inspired to experience the principles in  their daily lives  and  begin to understand how to bring about change in their own behavior.  The presenter is a  facilitatator.

Achieving understanding, changed my life. During the following 20 years, a continually revised  Renewal of Mind Process emerged.  Informed obese people already know what they should eat. The missing link was understanding the root of their present behavior. This self-understanding motivates them to embrace necessary behavioral change and to find an exercise program they enjoy, and will continue indefinitely.  Individuals with other compulsive behavior problems or stress related medical symptoms have equally benefited.

All previous life experiences have prepared me for the resulting vocation. I feel this is why God created me. Perhaps explaining why I have been allowed to survive  exceptionally well for 86 years, sustaining adequate mental faculties and enthusiasm to be effective. I have been acknowledged as an innovator. I believe I have become a facilitator seeking daily to effect positive change.

Bob Hughes

Although I had ridden the Heliopolis tram many times before, I had never needed to interact with the busy conductor other than to hand him my fare as he hurried past. Because there were no printed schedules for the somewhat unpredictable trams, an invitation to an evening party on the last weekend of my three month internship in Cairo, Egypt meant that I would have to ask what time the last train left Ramses Station. Using my Arabic phrase book, I put together my question. When I asked it, though, understanding the conductor’s rapid fire answer was beyond my very, very limited Arabic. Before I could decide how to help myself, a high school girl, who was dressed in skirt, sweater, and Muslim headscarf, spoke rapidly to the conductor. Then turning to me with a gentle smile on her face she said slowly and carefully, “Eleven and a half.”

In this world where there is so much division, where talk about being for us or against us is the common fare, and where the “other,” however we define “other,” is looked upon with suspicion and fear, I believe that people around the world are more alike than not. Most of the ordinary folks I met in Cairo, many of them Muslims, were horrified at violence that had been perpetrated against tourists in their country at Luxor two years before. They spoke with discouragement about the “elections” where their vote was no vote at all because there is never a real contest. Fear of severe government reprisals left them feeling powerless to change the system.  Most of them simply wanted the things in life we all want: a safe place to live and sufficient food; a good job; a decent education for their children as well as a safe place to play; a chance to get away for a while to relax and be with loved ones; appropriate care when they are sick; and the opportunity to express and live their beliefs.

I believe that the world will be a better place when the silent majority stops paying heed to the voices on our airwaves and in our government whose wealth, position, and fame depend upon spewing hatred, divisiveness, and fear. I believe that focusing on similarities instead of differences will go a long way towards creating a peaceful world for our children.

Rev. Anne-Marie Hislop

“We’ll work like crazy ’til we get the word done.  Then we’ll mess around,” Rich said as I sweated in that feed plant that summer.  This I believe: it is in activity rather than in rest that we find meaning in our lives.

Rich was only 5 years older than I was, but to me he had the carriage of a wise adult.  I had recognized him as a scrappy leader on a neighboring town’s baseball team.  Now, I was a summer employee in a feed plant, throwing 50 pound bags of cattle feed, unloading 80 pound salt bags from boxcars, hefting hundred pound gunny sacks of wheat middlings.  Rich ran the warehouse.  He was free to use his over-boiling invective, ridicule and satire to embarrass me to move smartly as a bottom rung laborer.

But after some weeks of Rich’s scalding, I could tell that he grudgingly approved of some of my bag handling, that his invective was shared with me rather than directed at me.  He announced discretionary but practical extra work objectives for us.  If the boxcar was empty, and no trucks waited for bags, we’d sweep the warehouse.  If the production line was dead, and broken bags cleaned up, we’d go outside the mill and pull weeds from between the railroad’s ties.  If ever I glimpsed a rest, it was eclipsed by Rich: “No, we’ll work like crazy ’til the work is done; then we’ll mess around.”

Amazingly, at times we did goof off.  We visited Brice in the shop.  Brice could fix anything, including Hyster hydraulics: his shop was always interesting.  Or we would step on the vertical conveyer belt, pull the rope, and ascend to the top of the silo, with the town, Highway 30, and cornfields stretched for miles below.  We might enjoy a few air conditioned minutes visiting the boss in the office.

But, of course, with Rich, breaks were brief: one never messed around until the work was done.  And Rich was a master at knowing what was left to accomplish.

Now, 40 years later, I have retired from a teaching career but keep my skills active by continuing to work with young people.  I could mess around, but I sense a strong purpose in continuing to contribute while there is still work to do.  I hope my students benefit, but I know I am stronger for it.  I’m reminded of Mr. Malter in Chaim Potok’s The Chosen, who, while his health fails and he works hard to achieve a homeland for the Jews, is begged to rest by son Reuven.  Mr. Malter replies that when he dies he wants to be worthy of rest.  His work will make him worthy of rest.

Rich knew that our work would never be done, that there is always something more to do, that in our activity rather than in our rest we find our meaning, our purpose.  Rich knew that messing around could wait.

Gene Conrad

In 1992, I qualified for a retirement from Deere & Company according to their formula for age and length of service.  I wasn’t ready for retirement but it has turned out my decision to take advantage of the company’s offer was the best thing that happened to me.

I discovered RSVP - Retired and Senior Volunteer Program - and was directed to volunteering.

My first venture was with the VA office in Bettendorf.  I met Mary, Shirley, Alice and Harold and other who trained me.  Every Monday morning I was able to use my office skills, especially filing.  I was kept busy for a couple of years.

My next venture was tutoring first and second grade slow readers at Grant Wood School.  I would do this once a week and it was a learning experience for me.  I did this for about two years.

Another volunteer opportunity was ushering at the Adler Theatre.  This was a chance to meet more people and assist in the seating of attendees to the QC Symphony performances as well as other theatrical productions that used the Adler facilities.

From there I learned of the QC Convention Bureau and volunteered on several of their projects, especially their discovery of the Quad City series.

When the Festival of Trees advertised for volunteers I joined them as a Ticket Seller.  During November I am busy during this event.

During the summer I volunteer for the Senior Olympics and am on the registration table.  It is so neat to meet the participants and be of assistance to them.

I am not an artist but enjoy art and was a docent at the Davenport Art Museum for about six years.  I currently do some volunteering at the Figge Art Museum.

For about five years I volunteered at the Bix Festival during August.  Most of my time was spent on the hospitality functions and providing information to those attending the various venues.

Volunteering has enriched my retirement years and proved to me there is life after retirement.

I believe in volunteering.

Geraldine Bakeris

In September of 1999, my daughter and I attended a wedding in Chicago. Early Sunday morning, before we drove back to Davenport, we took a walk downtown to see the display of life-sized cow statues around the city that had been decorated by local artists.

As we were walking along Michigan Avenue, a woman approached us and asked if we would take her picture by one of the cows so she could send it to her son. I readily agreed, took the photo by the “Monet” cow, and she gave me her name and address. Then her husband (who had driven around the block) pulled up, picked her up and took her home.

A week or so later, after I had mailed her the photo, I received a “thank you” note along with a $1.00 bill, folded origami-style, into a little kimono! In her note, she revealed that she was a nurse, and very active in her Evergreen Park IL community. She taught knitting classes at the local cancer center, helped at a children’s camp, and volunteered at a hospice in the city. Her commitment to her community and others around her put me to shame! It was such a charming letter that I wrote back to thank her and told her a little about myself. That was the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Over the years, her letters always contained “stuff”: newspaper clippings, poems, little craft items, flower seeds, recipes. But what I treasure most are the letters themselves. She is a woman of great faith and compassion for others. She has so many interests. There is always something new that she’s investigating, and she inspires me to investigate as well. She was delighted to find out that I am a librarian. She is an avid reader, is involved with her local library, and we often share book titles. I was honored when she said that she considers me a “kindred spirit”.

We have not since met face-to-face. I’m a little afraid the “magic” of the relationship will be gone if we meet in person again.

I believe in chance meetings. New friends, especially later in life, open up new worlds. I’m grateful that fate, or destiny - or cows - brought us together. I am lucky to have been by that particular cow in Chicago on that particular morning. My life has been so much richer.

Barb Reardon

Growing up with nine siblings turned out to be a good beginning to my journey through life. I remember going to the hospital dressed up in my “Sunday best,” only to stand on the lawn of the hospital to wave at my mother and most importantly, to meet my new sister, four times over. Each one confirmed that I was part of the bigger picture. I had five older siblings to learn from before I entered different stages in life. It seems that the only thing this didn’t prepare me for was hand-me-downs from my brothers. Wearing brown and green stripped boys t-shirts taught me humility and the ability to find courage and pride no matter my circumstances. I strove to find that place in my family that defined my purpose among many. The road to adulthood was a path of responsibility littered with times of great joy, laughter and bonding.

As a teen, I found it awkward to fit in, balancing both responsibility and discovering who I was, again, among many. Little dabs of courage filtered into my being, yet self-acceptance didn’t seem to find its way. I found that being who I thought people wanted me to be kept the peace and provided me with a sense of acceptance. I became a vessel full of masks. The path I traveled was one of a country road, laden with rocks and pot holes. Yet I did survive myself.

Becoming an adult meant becoming a wife and mother. And so I turned onto that path of “life to the fullest.” Only to find seven years later that the path I chose was a dead-end. With two small children at my side, my search for reason, purpose and joy began. I finally found that by taking off all of the masks and whittling my life into a bare life-form, motherhood, joy and contentment seeped within me. Then upon discovering that I could love unconditionally and be loved the same my path took a turn onto blacktop. I married a man who was also raising two daughters, and we formed a family filled with much responsibility, littered with times of great joy, laughter and bonding.

Within this journey I also found the ability to survive grave illness and was graced with a precious peek at the peace and love of what eternal life could be like. I strive for that peace and love on the highways and interstates of my present life. Amazingly, I often find myself seeking discovery back on old country roads for the blessings that I have, past and present as I believe that the miracles in life are in the journey. Sadness allows me to define gladness, loss lets me appreciate what I have had and most importantly when I meet potholes along the way I remind myself that there is peace and love awaiting me in the purpose of my continued journey.

Susan (Susie) Marie Sumstine

We all have defining moments in our lives and my moment occurred on a Friday spring day. It started like every other day, but with exceptions. One, my paternal Grandma was in town visiting, which was a rare occurrence. My clinically blind grandma also brought with her a handgun, although my family was unaware of this at the time. And most importantly, my mom gave me a very long hug that morning before I set off for school that day. So long was the hug that I had to pry myself away, so I wouldn’t be late to school. I knew that my mother suffered from depression, but this was unusual.

Later that same day, I was pulled off a school bus that was heading to a junior high track meet. The principal told me there was an accident at home and a police officer would take me home. By Sunday, my mother was pronounced dead.

After my mom’s death, life was expected to go back to normal. I went back to school and I tried to pretend as if nothing had happened.

My belief in God was defined early on due to my family tragedy, as was my ability to forgive. I remember my mother’s vibrant and enthusiastic manner before her illness and unfortunately, I also remember vividly her chronic, and unrelenting depression. I also believe that my grandma contributed to my mother’s death. This is not a conclusion that has come easily or quickly for me. The mind is mysterious in how it protects us from things that are so difficult to comprehend.

Much later in high school, a well-meaning individual informed me that my mother couldn’t be in heaven because of the manner in which she died. I remember vividly my angry response. How could God punish her for an illness that wasn’t her fault?

I wanted to believe God would not judge in such a hateful way, but the question lingered stubbornly in my mind. I decided I wouldn’t have anything to do with a God or church that condemned so easily. It seemed hypocritical to me that God would be so unloving when God was needed the most.

Overcoming many obstacles, I was able to move forward with my life and accomplish all of the “normal” benchmarks that were important for me to achieve. I finished high school, went to college, got a job, got married and started a family. But it’s been a difficult journey.

I now believe I survived this complex tragedy and other difficulties, but not entirely on my own accord. I believe in guardian angels, the people that God puts in our lives to sustain us so that we might reach our God-given potential. It took the birth of my children for me to believe in God and the importance of forgiveness. God knows my unique heart and loves me just the same for it. And now, maybe I know and trust God’s heart too.

Sharon Kendall Dunn

My latest change in circumstances came after a neighbor upstairs went to the hospital for an asthma attack.  A pan of cooking oil left on a turned on stove caught fire.  Although the fire was confined to his apartment, smoke forced all residents to move.  As we waited in the parking lot for the Red Cross, I wondered where I would stay, and thought about how much life can change in less than a half hour’s time.

 When first let into the old apartment, I grabbed just enough clothes and essentials to get by for a few days, while staying in a motel room, allowing myself to be pampered.  After the landlord found another apartment for me, the real work began.

Trip after trip, I returned to the old apartment, first getting clothes and things essential for my daily life.  In subsequent trips, I gathered my books, CD’s, mementos and my manuscripts.  The acrid smell of smoke stung my eyes, and sometimes I could barely breathe as I sorted through items collected over a period of years.  I dug through newspapers saved for clippings of articles and pictures, and threw them away.  I saved some personal items and threw away some to make my move easier.  I decided to keep the furniture in good shape, and to discard the furniture worn by years of living in one place.

Mementos from my childhood, from college days and from some of my favorite jobs reminded me of the many things I enjoyed.  Photos left by my parents tied me to my family life, lived in three different states, lived in town and in rural areas, and times that shaped my life.  Through decisions made, of what to save, and what to discard, I learned what was important to me.

I rediscovered my belief in moving, to examind the breadth of my existence, the belief in the worth of a well-examined life.

Mike Bayles