Letter from Mom, October 15, 1962. I often have conversations with my friend, Linda Jo Pym, about our mothers. Her mother, Willa May, died this past October. My mother died last July. Her mother was a "saint" in the Theosophical Society. My mother was a "saint" in the Lutheran Church. They both involved themselves heavily in their chosen spiritual home. Willa May believed wholeheartedly in an afterlife and reincarnation. She believed so whole heartedly that she had plans for the afterlife. She planned to be a "greeter", someone who helps the newly departed pass over. At our meeting this past Wednesday, one member remarked that Willa May is surely busy now, with 155,000 newly passed souls to process, and even speculated that she may have been taken in time to prepare her for the deluge (pun intended) to come.

In 1962, my mother writes in part..."[concerning a Lutheran convention of some sort in Chicago from which she has just returned] Our convention was truly an 'experience'. i enjoyed it so much and felt we were really 'led by the Spirit' which was the theme. There was no anagonism on any one's part as we adopted the new constitution - lots of questions, but no selfishness. Dr. Eycamp was our chaplain. I hope you can hear her sometime. She is so wholly dedicated - a real saint - with uch to say - with much authority!"

She is concerned about my younger sister and her best friend visiting me at college, driving her friend's family car, and hoping we exhibit responsibility. She also wants me to do some p.r. " I hope that Mary can come back well impressed with our church college. [she came back well impressed with the boys at our church college]. I think you students have a heavy responsibility for reflecting the image of our Church and our Lord."

Then she talks about a storm out west, in which the winds hit my aunt and uncle's house in Portland, Oregon for four hours straight, collapsing their garage and knocking over an apple tree "The big fir trees in their yard swept the ground with their tips, but didn't break or up-root." Now that I live out here, I know whereof she speaks.

She finishes with religious concerns: "I hope you are going to church on Sundays, honey. And when you commune be sure to register it - whether you're here or there. Our church had no record of your communion the past year -because you didn't sign the envelope." Poor darling. I didn't sign the envelope because I wasn't there. A devotee of Ayn Rand (which I probably still was in 1962) would not be "communing" in any sense of the word.