My father was a champion debater back in high school and college. . . and one of the reasons he achieved exceptional success is that he was blessed to have the same fine partner for all those years. And there was something else that was exceptional about this team aside from their unusual longevity. And it would become clear to their opponents when either my dad or his partner would walk to the front of the room and write their names on the blackboard – as is the tradition in such debates. And they would write:
First Affirmative: David Berg
Second Affirmative: David Berg
Their full names were actually R. David Berg and David M. Berg. They were absolutely no relation to each other – but they became fast friends and formidable debate partners both at Augustana Academy and then at St. Olaf College. And although I’m sure they amassed their impressive win/ loss record mostly from their own brains and skill, I have this suspicion that the matter of identical names might have discombobulated an opponent or two along the way.
I never met my father’s partner, but I am thinking of him today because I just learned – as did my father – that he died back in January. The two of them had actually fallen out of touch with each other quite some time ago, but reconnected several years ago when my brother Nathan had surgery in Indiana – and my dad ended up staying with David M. (as he always called him) either on the way there or on his way back home. It was nice to know that these two old friends had found each other again after all that time.
By the way, I would be remiss if I didn’t also acknowledge the death of someone else important to my father – Paul Rothfusz. (By coincidence, I learned of his death as well today.) He and my dad were co-pastors at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Atlantic, Iowa. . . the first time (and actually the last time) that my dad was part of a pastoral team. (In his other three parishes, he was the only pastor.) Pastor Paul and my dad were a wonderful team, although it was a little tricky to know just why. They were by no means identical in personality and temperament – nor were they also dynamic opposites. I think more than anything they were just two decent, hard-working pastors who cared more about their congregation and parishioners than they did about their own egos or turf. And that was demonstrated so clearly in that Pastor Rothfusz was already there at St. Paul’s when my dad began there in 1974- and no one could have been more welcoming and helpful. And although their two wives (my mom and Mrs. Rothfusz) had an uneasy relationship, the two pastors were marvelous colleagues and friends for as long as we lived in Atlantic. Pastor Rothfusz and I were actually quite close, and when I would come back to Atlantic for visits after my family had moved to Wisconsin, Pastor Paul was at the top of my list of people to visit. He was someone who somehow brought out my most philosophical and reflective side – gently nudging me beyond my pre-conceived notions to think a little deeply about what I believed and why. What a gift it is to have someone like that in your life.
I think by the time you pass your 50th birthday, you are much more apt to view the people in your life as gifts – and as you lose them, you come to an even more profound appreciation of how your life was richer for having known them.