Dear Jeril... Love, Dad. Wayne P. Anderson
that give visitors trouble on the other side of the iron curtain.
So we packed a tent and took a slow boat to England. The trip turned out to be a winner. We toured famous places like the battleground at Hastings, visited Brighton on the south coast, spent six days in London, attended a Dickens’ festival in Rochester and saw plays, plays, plays. Well, seven.
It occurred to us when Rosie said that one of the plays about a Catholic girls’ school was the dirtiest play she’d ever seen, that we have spent little time protecting our youngest daughters from the R-rated aspects of life. This is quite a change from the long debates we had with you about why you weren’t allowed to see PG movies until you were twenty-one. Well, sixteen.
The British have never lived up to their publicity as far as we are concerned. They are supposed to be very formal and always wait for an introduction even when the ship is sinking. We found them friendly and eager to talk. At Rochester we felt like long lost relatives who had just come home. They even bought us a drink at the theater as they showed us the back stage scenes.
The British are also said to have no sense of humor, or at least take hours to see the point of a joke. While we were there, gas was in short supply, prices were going up, there were a number of strikes, at least one flood—all of this seemed to give them a chance to show off their stiff upper lip and humor under stress.
They laugh a lot. The curator of the Battle Museum outside of Hastings felt it was a terrible shame the way William the Conqueror had won the battle and that the French influence had not been good for the course of British history. They do love their history and have great good fun with the gory parts.
The characteristic that they do have is politeness. After standing in lines and driving on the continent, it was a pleasant contrast to find people doing these things as if they really respected other people’s rights. Stephanie, by the way, started the trip on crutches. She took an ankle out on a volksmarch, which left her handicapped for several weeks.
We are back teaching. We didn’t know until the morning that classes started what we would be teaching. For one reason or another my courses for this summer have changed four times since I was hired. I have the maximum number in my courses—Human Sexuality, Structured Groups and Counseling Practicum. Carla ended up teaching a practicum, but really hoped to teach a Human Sexuality course.
It looks to be a good summer here. We hope you all are doing well.
Love, Dad
Ramstein, Germany, June 11, 1979
Dear Jeril,
I addressed an envelope the other day when I wrote you and then put the letter in a blank envelope and sealed it, so I have an empty one here I don’t want to throw away.
When we were in London, the Scots had come down for the soccer match between England and Scotland. They were dressed in their plaids, some in kilts; most had tams or woolen scarves that were actually more like serapes. London brought in extra police from all over the country.
The Scots took over many squares where they were singing, dancing, drinking too much, and insulting the women. They were running through the subway screaming and generally raising hell. It was either a riot or ball depending on who you were. The English never lost their sense of politeness. Very interesting.
Carla and I both marched yesterday in a Volksmarch with one of our students. Stephanie still does not feel her leg is strong enough, and Rosie had a cold. It was beautiful and the trail was mostly through woods. A brass band played for us while we drank beer and relaxed afterwards.
I find my digestive system can now stand an occasional beer, if I’m careful. The beers are really different here. Between acts in plays in England, drinks are served. I’ve tried various English beers, warm and slightly sweet—even their bitter beer is sweet. I tried a German beer yesterday—boy, was it bitter. Germans prefer it really strong so it would really take me some time getting used to it.
Today is Monday, a long work day for both of us. We start seeing students at 12:30, have no supper break, eat while we talk, start class at 6:30 and finish at 10:30.
Love, Dad
Ramstein, Germany, July 24, 1979
Dear Jeril,
Well, the depressing news for us is that we can’t leave here until August 18, Saturday. No earlier flights are available—that means 18 days without a car since we sold ours as of the first. We can get rides to classes and for groceries, but will really be tied down otherwise. If I had known flights (these were military not commercial flights) were so scarce, we wouldn’t have sold our car so soon.
Our household goods leave on August 8th. I think I’ll hold on to the TV so that Stephanie can keep from going crazy. Would you send me the dates classes start at the university and when school starts for the girls?
The car brought what I asked, and I could have held on longer since there was more of a market than I thought. I had two serious lookers after I had made my commitment to sell. I’m taking the girls to tennis in just a minute. They start a new class today. They just finished beginners last week and were promoted to intermediate.
This weekend we went to France for a day. The city of Metz was our main point of interest. They have a cathedral that has more stained glass than any other in the world. It was impressive. Also their Roman Museum is one of the best we’ve seen anywhere. Inside they have reconstructed a Roman graveyard and have some glass openings that let you look into the floor to see how graves were set up. Their collection of everyday objects was formed well in groups such as make up, tools, sewing and cooking.
We spent several hours trying to find a French restaurant open and finally had to go back to Saarbrucken to find something to eat. The girls did get French food however, Cordon Bleu.
Love, Dad
CHAPTER 5
WASHINGTON, D.C., SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA, KEYSTONE, COLORADO, MARCH 1981
Dear Family,
I’m home this morning recovering from strep-throat—still having trouble talking—but since my writing hand is okay, I felt I’d take time to catch you up on some of our recent history.
We’ve enjoyed hearing about my brother Lester’s adventures in Panama. It sounds almost like stepping into a novel. I’m looking forward to sharing some of those adventures with him during July and August. In the meantime I have been doing some traveling of my own here in the United States.
For many years when I’ve gone off to meetings around the United States, I’ve tended to go in, attend the meeting and come home. It dawned on me one day (it takes me years to catch on to some things) that since other people pay good money to come see these places, why don’t I spend more time there.
So in the last few years I go in early by a day or two and stay over a day after a meeting to enjoy the sights. The sad part about my getting this insight late is that the university is so broke that they no longer automatically pay my expenses for two trips a year. I have to scheme and beg to get paid half for a trip.
Washington, D.C.
Anyway, in December I spent four days touring Washington, a couple with a friend and several alone. I find that I can go to a museum like our National Air and Space Museum and spend the entire day just moving from one display to another. I suppose that it’s partly I’m at an age where much of what is now in museum displays is part of my own history, so I’m often going back over old memories—like of World War II.
The other factor is that good museums are now so entertainingly educational. I walk through a science exhibit and have fun with moving displays and the working models and find at the end I know many things I didn’t know before. I’ve also reached the age where I forget more, and faster than I used to; that means I have to work fairly hard to keep the new material coming in to keep up with the old material going out of whatever hole forgetting goes out.
That’s