On this crisp autumn day I sit in my refurbished antique Iowa rocking chair peering out an open window at 11th street here in Park Slope, my quaint Brooklyn neighborhood which spans the longitude of Prospect Park, characterized by streets of classic Brownstones lined with various species of trees and avenues spotted with every kind of ethnic restaurant, local grocers, laundromats, boutiques, churches, hospitals, pharmacies, and almost anything you could imagine.  The charming landscape certainly wouldn’t be complete without the people.  The people are as diverse as the surroundings – many young children (this neighborhood is apparently the hotspot for all pre-collegiate education in NYC), young parents, lots of trendy artist types, the middle aged and elderly, native New Yorkers and transplants alike, and even a few celebrities such as Keri Russell, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Steve Buscemi, and Patrick Stewart to name a few.  A description of lifeforms circa my humble abode would not be complete without mention of the endless pigeons and squirrels in the park, and the dogs.  Lots and lots and lots of dogs.  For Bella, my 10 year old lab mix, we could not have landed anyplace more qualified as a mecca for canines.  I have been surprised by how many varieties can be found here, tiny dogs and HUGE dogs and every size and shade in between.  Even more surprising than all the mutts and purebreds one might find here is the fact that if a business doesn’t serve food (beverages not included) dogs are welcome!  Needless to say, two nights ago Bella got to hang out with her friend Maddie, Jenny and Luke’s dog, in a BAR – and they weren’t the majority of pooches on scene that night!  There will be more on these hairy creatures in subsequent posts, I’m sure.

The sounds of sirens, honks, barks and chatter outside this open window make me nostalgic for a different perch altogether.  I long for the familiar faces and noises that passed not long ago under my bridge office which connected Keane Hall, the first residence hall I occupied at Loras College to Christ the King Chapel, my place of prayer and labor over so many years.  Over those years I saw many gifted and cherished souls move under this passageway, and so often I would offer a wave and a smile, sometimes knocking on the windows to get your attention, sometimes throwing the window open to serenade a friend or unsuspecting victim or to call out with the joy that this wonderful place had brought to my life.  Today, I’m quiet, remembering.  What I remember the most are not the gestures that I extended to those who passed through, but rather the pure love and affirmation which those travelers returned or offered, even the violently pitched snowballs which would result in my unsuspecting fright!

And from that space in the bridge, like ripples in water, I encountered beauty in the relationships that made all the labor and all the personal strife not only manageable, but worth it.  After all, I’m talking about the place where I’ve spent 99% of my adult life.  The place where I first fell in love.  The place where I almost died of grief.  The place where I developed the most precious lifelong friendships.  The place where I lost my faith and where I was led back to it.  The place where I was beat down and picked back up, where I was supported and held up and encouraged to be the best I could be.  The place where I learned to sing, to really sing.  I didn’t do anything on my own.  Okay, I had to do some essential things on my own, but it was almost always because someone else inspired me to do so.

The air here in the Slope, as it is affectionately called, is so chilly today that it bites, so as I wrap myself to stay warm by this window, as I am embraced by physical warmth, my heart is on fire with gratitude for all those who I have left behind, and for all those who moved on from Dubuque over the years as well.  I do realize that I’m one of so many who have moved on, and so I join the masses of dispersed Duhawks whose collective spirit is felt most tangibly in the halls and walls of Loras College as many continue the work of educating minds and enriching spirits for the future.

When I imagine categorizing my gratitude by students, staff, faculty, and friends, I realize that it’s all really the same – these titles can simply be categorized as my Loras family.  Some of you were there through it all.  Some of you knew me for what now feels like an instant and then you were gone.  Others had only just arrived and started to learn my many quirks and bad habits before I made the leap.  Yet somehow, I can’t think of someone who I wouldn’t feel comfortable calling part of my family.  What a gift!  A true gift!  Perhaps we had scuffles or disagreements along the way, but what family doesn’t.  Ultimately I think we always wanted and continue to want the very best for each other.

For me Loras College was and remains – une fenêtre ouverte – an open window.  A place built on hospitality, a welcoming spirit, diversity and faith.  A place exposed to the elements of changing economy, social trends, and differences of opinion.  A place where one feels secure, but constantly being prepared for something greater, and when that time comes – a place where one is missed, but empowered to pursue his or her dreams with the great assurance that they are always welcome back.  Merci fenêtre ouverte.

The following pictorial video is set to a live recording of the traditional hymn How Can I Keep From Singing, arranged and performed by Cassandra Koetz and I.

With love for all those who I encountered because of my time at Loras College…