My Brother Vern

 

 

I’ve been thinking about words to describe my brother and honor him on his 87^th birthday.  Norwegian/American might do as a starter.  We have had quite different lives, but we did descend from the same gene pool that came from rural Norway to rural Minnesota in the 1840s; 100% Norse we think, until proven that we aren’t quite that pure.  

LaVerne Donald Aaker was born December 31, 1933; the darkest time of the year and during the depression, one of the darkest times of the 20th century. Mom was at the Aaker farm where grandparents Olaf and Ella lived.  Everybody went to a New Year’s Eve gathering at Roy Voxlands, (can you imagine that rip roaring party? – coffee and cake at 10 o’clock).  Hilda stayed home with mom and helped to deliver the baby before mid-night. Probably boiled the water! The doctor told dad to hang a lantern on the mailbox so he would know where to turn in on the dark snowy nigh.  He was brought home later in a basket.   Anyway, that’s the story we heard from Hilda.

Yes, nights were dark on the farm during the years of his childhood.  He did chores and homework by the light of lanterns and candles, really until well into his teens.  The great depression years were hard times, but our parents were not depressed in spirit – they had hard work to do to save enough to buy the 100-acre farm and raise a family.  Vern found himself at an early age carrying his part of the load.  Besides the Norse blood line, it was culture and surroundings that had the biggest sway; parents that taught hard work, faith and frugality by example.  Long days – up early to help milk the cows and feed the pigs, and into the evening to feed the calves and throw down hay for the cows to chew on during the night.  Sundays were exempt from work; always observing a day of rest on the Sabaoth. (except for chores, of course).

At age six he was off to Dovre, the one room country school about a mile from the farm, to learn reading, writing, arithmetic, geography and Minnesota history.  We walked across the fields often facing cold winds blowing from the North.  All eight grades were taught by one teacher. Vern’s class had four students I think, including cousin Bob Aaker.

 In those times the school year was shorter than the full nine months of these days.   Farmers needed help for spring work and harvesting in the fall.

 LaVerne was a good student in grade school and also at Kenyon High though I haven’t run across any of his report cards.  I just know he was a better student then me and was a role model for me to try to do better. In high school he tried out for football, and not knowing what to say when Coach Fredrickson asked what position he wanted to play; coach said, “Vern you’re going to be a quarterback”.  We can see the family in 1949 in the picture below. The 16-year-old looks strong and broad shouldered – maybe

Vern, dad, mom,
Jerry, Lois,
 Jean

a result of conditioning for football, but more likely because of hard work on the farm.

He also worked in the “pea pack”, a job that built up his muscles even more. When we “wrestled” on the living room floor or in the hay mow, he could easily pin me, all in fun.   

In about 1950 he made an adventurous trip with Bob and Harris Hostager in a 1932 Chevrolet - all the way to Seattle to attend a Luther League convention.  I remember the parents of the three worrying and wondering if they would get over the big mountains in Montana.  Not that they had ever seen mountains themselves.  After a record number of flat tires, they returned home safely and probably made a report to the congregation.  Those youth conventions were often “mountain top” experiences and changed lives.  Harris went on to become a Lutheran minister, maybe in part because of that convention experience.  Did Vern ever contemplate that calling?

 He decided to go to Luther College at the nudging of Uncle Maynard, so after graduation from High School in 1952 he was off to Decorah.  I don’t know much about those two years at Luther except that he met a farm girl by name of Donna Hatlestad from LeRoy, Minnesota who was studying to be an elementary teacher.  At some point he brought her home to meet the family – an indication that this was really getting serious.   

Sister Jean remembers it like this:

 

“When Vern went to college, I went to 1st grade.  No kindergarten at Dovre. So, my memories of Vern are not on the farm but more when he was in high school and beyond.  If he wouldn't have ventured off to Luther, where might we have gone to college?  I'm certainly glad he followed Maynard's nudging.

 

I remember Donna coming to visit but can't exactly recall the first time. But I do remember when she started teaching in Kenyon.

 

I was always so clueless but very interested when my 5th grade teacher and the 2nd grade teacher named Ms. Hatlestad moved next door to Grandma and Grandpa's at Berdella Ness' s house in Kenyon.   At that time teachers were encouraged to visit homes and mom invited those two out for supper.  I was thrilled and loved it.  I remember them trying to explain day light savings time to me.... I wouldn't accept that you could just change time so easily”. 

 

 Lois adds this memory of that time:

‘I remember when Vern brought Donna home and that was the first time a girl friend had ever been brought to our house.  I’m sure I gawked at her.  I think I stood behind the stove in the kitchen (do you remember how we used to do that?) and listened to the conversation but probably didn't participate in any of it.  It was probably nerve wracking for Verne but I think they were already pretty serious before he brought her home.”

Donna's memory of first meeting the family. 

It was in August between my freshman and sophomore year at college.  I was working in Rochester that summer and Verne came and brought me to visit.  Your mom was working and I only remember Lois and Kathy were there.  Lois had made brownies but had used salt instead of sugar which embarrassed her.  Your mom had bulk salt for pickles so it was an easy mistake.  I must have stayed for supper but don’t remember it.  As for one word to describe Verne, that’s hard.  But loving stands out for me. 

Judy’s reminiscence:

“I met Vern’s family in June, 1963 when Jerry brought me to the farm.  We went swimming in a lake near Faribault and I remember thinking ‘these Aaker men sure are handsome’. My words to describe Vern are understanding and easy to be around”

In 1955, after two years at Luther, Vern enlisted in the United States Army.  So why would he interrupt his college education and leave his sweetheart behind for two years? 

                                                                            I think in those years young men felt

they might eventually be drafted anyway, so why not go ahead and enlist and come out with the advantages of the GI Bill to help pay for college. 

He did a tour of duty in Japan and from what I understand he had a pretty cushy job – with his own jeep and driver, in fact.  He looked at Japan as a positive experience, and indeed came out of the service with government aid to help finish his college education, this time at St. Olaf College. Again, I followed his lead and went into the Army right out of high school. And, of course, I went to Luther College as well!

Donna and Vern were married in May, 1957 and I was there, standing by his side.  In February, 1958 their first child, Cindy Marie, arrived to live with them in student housing in Northfield. He graduated from St. Olaf that Spring and got a job in the county welfare office in Rochester.

They bought their first house for a price of what we pay for a car these days. Dad thought it was pretty neat that he had a job with a pay check every month – of course, interested to know how much that was. 

I remember driving with Vern and Donna to Omaha to help with their move to that city where he studied and earned an MSW from the University of Nebraska in 1964. 

 

Following the Biblical injunction, Donna and Vern were fruitful and multiplied!  We see here the growing family in 1969, from which have sprung many grandchildren and now great grandchildren. It has been as a brother, son, husband, father, and grandfather that he has lived out the values he inherited from home, church and family in that rural community so many years ago. 

And these same ideals served him well in a long career of service to community and people in need through social work, his chosen profession.

But this is not intended to be a career resume nor a family tree for I would certainly leave too many gaps.  Rather I return to the question, “what words can we use to characterize this man?”  I start with those that I and many others have observed. These relate to his chosen life work:

To do good social work one must have the capacity for empathy and good relationships, and it certainly helps to have compassion and be a good listener.  These are not only professional qualities but personal values that were lived out in Vern’s interactions with all who have been close to and experienced knowing Vern.

I would call him a quiet man, modest and thoughtful. He is not one to interrupt others in conversation when he can’t get a word in edgewise as his family happily chats around him while he listens.  Hearing and sight have diminished a bit with age, but we know he is musing about the important things in life – especially the gift of a long life and a wonderful family. 

Adjectives like these and others were recurring themes when I asked his children, sisters and Judy for words that come to mind when thinking of Vern.  Several said understanding and respectful, and the word kind got the most votes.  Others mentioned were wise and a positive role model. 

I agree. Someone once taught me the importance of putting the best construction on the actions and words of the neighbor, based on several of the commandments – i.e., do not bear false witness, covet, or steal.  This is an outlook that leads to a positive attitude toward life, self and other people. I thought than and still think, “well that’s my brother”.  He refrains from saying negative things about others and avoids gossip and criticism. 

Karen summed it up well writing, “I’ll say devoted.  He’s devoted to God, devoted to Donna and devoted to our family”.  Cindy chose genuine and Mark said patience.  What a wonderful affirmation for a parent to receive from their children. 

They bought and fixed up a cabin on Lake Eunice soon after they moved to Fargo.  The best investment they ever made. Everyone in the family has fond memories of summers at the lake.

Below we see two old geezers standing on the lake shore in the summer of 2018.

Ie 

I write this during the last week of what most consider a very dark year – 2020, the year of the pandemic. This year we all have experienced separation and isolation, anxiety and concern, lest we become infected with the Corona Virus. So, Vern and Donna have been “hunkered down”, yet they delight in the loving attention given them by their children, grandchildren, and siblings, and especially the joy of seeing the next generation of babies appearing on the scene.

 

Happy 87^th birthday, Vern.

 

 

Jerry, December 31, 2020

 

 

Remembering the Saints

Here is my annual reminder that this is the time of year we remember the saints that have gone before us into glory.  Just before All Saints, Parents Arnold and Inez died and joined the 'great white host" which we read for our devotions this morning from the book of Revelation.  

Dad died Oct 25, 1991 and mom on Oct 21st, 1976.  I remember when Pastor Schroeder came to call on us to plan mom's funeral and asked dad what hymn he would like, and dad said, "oh, I guess, "Den Store Hvide Flok"., (Who is this host Arrayed in White?) which had been sung at innumerable funerals at Norwegian Lutheran churches over the generations. It is a Norwegian folk tune from the 17th century.   Aunt Minda asked that I sing it at her funeral and I also sang it for uncle Leonard, and brother-in-law Jerrold Lerum's funeral.  And others. 

Judy's dad also died in October, the 24th '03, and her mom Bina in early November (2018), - I sang at her funeral too, (Come to Me All Who Labor and are Heavy Laden).  

In Latin America the 'day of the dead" has great significance when families go to the cemeteries and spend time with the souls of their departed loved ones.  If we still lived in Kenyon we would have gone to tend to the folks' graves at Holden and wandered amongst the resting places of many of my ancestors - from great grandparents Knut and Mari down to the present and where Judy and my ashes will one day be placed.   

This always has been a favorite time of the year for me.  Growing up on the farm it was a comforting time when all the harvest was complete and we were prepared for the long cold winter to come.  It is a good time to think of our mortality and the coming reunion we will have with all the saints. 

Peace, Jerry - October 27, 2020

 

Some grave makers of ancestors in the cemetery surrounding Holden Lutheran Church – in rural Kenyon, Minnesota.  (with one exception)

Great grandmother, Ribor Rolfseng, and husband Lars Jensen Romo , immigrated from Norway in 1866.  They were parents of my grandfather, Jens Romo, whom I never knew as he died in 1930.  (She is buried in the Emanual church cemetery in Aspelund)  

The Aaker gravestone, near which are buried Great-great-grandparents, Knut and Mari Aaker, great-grandparents Nils and Martha Aaker, (Follingstead), grandparents Olaf and Ellen Aaker (Solberg), and numerous other Aaker relatives. All three generations lived and labored on the Aaker “home place” settled in 1857.

Great-great grandparents Matte and Ole Follingstad were parents of my great-grandmother, Martha Maria Follingstad, who married Nils K Aaker. She came to America with her family in 1858 and settled in the Kenyon/Wannamingo area. Little is known about Matte and Ole.

Great-great grandmother, Ingeborg Ellingsdatter Kvam, and husband Mons Hanson Moane, were parents of my great grandmother, Anna Solberg.  One of the oldest gravestones in the cemetery, these markers are deteriorating as the years pass.

Great grandparents P.A (Peter Anton) Henning and Gjertrud (Stene) – parents of my grandmother Martha Romo, are buried here as well as son Fredrick and daughter Ella.

Grave monument of great grandparents, Peter and Anna Solberg. Anna was the mother of my grandmother, Ellen Solberg Aaker, who married Olaf Aaker. Peter and Anna settled on the farm where I grew up and where both my grandma Aaker and I were born. (1880 and 1938)

Judy and I have this beautiful setting for the final resting place of our remains, surrounded by many beloved saints who have gone before us.

 

 

One of my favorite grave stones in the Holden cemetery is that of Sister Anna Huseth, one of our ancestors.  She was a missionary nurse to the Eskimo people in the early 1900s.

Indeed, what more can we hope to be said of us than this: “She Hath Done What She Could” – Would that this be said of me when I am gone.

Bachelors

 

John and Melvin were the slowest men I ever knew, though to say I knew them is not quite accurate. As a boy growing up on a farm near Kenyon, Minnesota, I observed them and sometimes heard comments about these bachelor brothers, usually accompanied with a wry grin to communicate that the boys were not quite up to speed with the world. 

I was curious about their lives.

They were always the last ones to get into the fields for springs work, so the crops always lagged behind their neighbors. Part of the reason was that their land was not good for farming.  That was back in the time before everyone starting tiling the fields to drain all the wetlands and sloughs and plant row crops fence to fence. The large field in front of their buildings was marshy and too wet to cultivate in early Spring.  But even when things dried out the brothers were late.

All the farmers in the neighborhood had dairy herds and started the day at the crack of dawn. John and Melvin, not early risers, were slow to get out to the barn in the morning.  Theirs was a fairly typical red barn we could see from the road.  My guess is they milked about 15 cows by hand, not with a milking machine as they likely did not have electricity in the barn until the 1950s,  Maybe not even then. Definitely “pre-modern”. 

Our community had been settled by Norwegian Lutherans.  These brothers were literally “Norwegian bachelor farmers”, in the vain of Garrison Keeler’s radio descriptions in “The News from Lake Wobegon”.   They grew up and lived their whole lives on that farm about a mile up the road from ours, land that was no doubt homesteaded by their grandparents in the 1860s.

The large two-storied, white farm house was stately and classical, and was said to be full of antiques.  They lived there with their sister, Julia, who did the house cleaning and cooking in addition to caring for their elderly father. I don’t remember ever seeing the parents, but do remember that Julia was considered to be more sociable then her brothers.  Mom sometimes mentioned that Julia had been at Lady’s Aid.  Or was that Ladies Aide, I don’t remember. 

They drove an old Ford or Chevy – about a 1932 model, and we sometimes saw their car moving ever so slowly down the road as they went for an evening ride to check out how the neighbors’ crops were doing.  We held our breath as the car swerved dangerously close to the ditch as John probably took his eyes off the road a bit too long wondering why Joel’s corn was already knee high when they had just gotten their seed in the ground.   

John and Melvin were not often seen in church even though they would have been de facto members as were about ninety percent of those living in the neighborhood.  The one time I am sure all three of the siblings were in church was for the funeral of their father.  His death had been announced by Melvin to Bud in the hardware store one morning.  Bud greeted Melvin with the usual “how’s it goin’ today, Melvin?”, and Melvin simply said, “Dad died today”.  Not much else to say. 

There were other bachelors in our neighborhood and congregation. It seemed like each of the extended families had at least two or three: the Floms, Voxlands, Jacobsons, Ramsteads, and Wrolstads filled at least two pews with bachelors in the back rows of the sanctuary. 

Why were there so many unmarried men in the neighborhood?  Were there not enough eligible young ladies when they were growing up?  Were they so shy that they never got up the gumption to go courting?  It is a bit of a mystery as shyness and coyness didn’t keep many others from finding mates – my own dad would have been considered quite shy, for example, and he found a wonderful life partner and helpmate.

My best guess is that the natural process of taking over the farm from the parents by one of the boys in the family sometimes meant much time-consuming hard work and time just slipped away.  The girls were more likely to prepare to be teachers or get jobs in town and there were not many options left for the boys in the countryside as the years went by.  It would take more of a sociologist then me to explain it. 

Some of the bachelors finally did marry in their fifties. As they say, “late in life”.  As for John and Melvin, they never did, they were just too slow. 

My Dad - Arnold

Dad was a farmer. Just an average farmer at the time when a man could raise a family on a small dairy farm and never work a job off the farm.  He was not a mechanic, but he and brother Len could fix the combine with the most rudimentary of tools when it broke down in the field; he was not a carpenter, but he could hammer together a chicken house with a little help from neighbor Clarence; he was not a horseman, but he know all about untangling harnesses and how to hook up Jiggs and Maggie to pull a load of just about anything; he was not a writer, but his penmanship was classical and sometimes wisdom came out of his mouth like bits of poetry; he was not musical, but delighted in whistling a tune and worshiping God through the old hymns in church as he mouthed the words almost inaudibly; he wasn’t well-read, but did read two newspapers a day and listened to the news three times a day; he was never prosperous, but had a deep appreciation for the fertility of the soil and land of which he was a faithful steward, and for the richness of good conversation, his family’s happiness and for his community.  So, dad was not good at much, but he was excellent as a neighbor, husband, brother, and especially as a dad. 

Training Tupence

Over the years Judy gained the reputation in our family for her ability to train the dogs we have owned. All of them, from Cocker Spaniels Rocky and Anne, to Natcha the chow, cross-breeds like the huge Beckett, and Adricc, our faithful Corgi, were well-behaved and pleasant companions to live with. For over ten years of outings in the mountains and valleys of Montana, Adricc never strayed off the path and always did his best to keeps us together.  The herding instinct he was born with meant he was happiest when his people, Judy and I, didn’t get separated on the trail.  Obedience and loyalty are characteristics we like in a dog.  

So far Tupence is a different story.  She entered our lives in late March, the day before the stay at home order was implemented in Montana due to the corona virus pandemic.  We “rescued” her. She was a tiny two-month old mixture; her mother half Corgi and half Fox Terrier and who knows about the father.  She is the highest energy dog we’ve ever had, and gets totally distracted by every thing that comes across her way or into her view – people, leaves, bicyclers, and especially other dogs. She has become very bonded to us, but is totally deaf to our calls, scolding, or bribes. 



Now she is four and a half months, so perhaps we shouldn’t expect too much, but obedience and following commands do not seem to be in her nature. The other day she ran wildly into the street barking at a very large though calm German Shepherd.  Judy and I looked like elderly clowns running around trying to corral her.  


I think most dogs are trainable – i.e. learn not to jump up on people, come when called and walk alongside of rather then pulling their master along.  

The reason we humans keep pets are pretty well known or assumed.  I worked for years with a program that placed domesticated animals with families all over the world.  Domesticated animals provide multiple benefits for humans, among them the provision of food like milk and meat, and fiber for clothing.  Early humans domesticated animals as living tools – as draft animals to pull implements and carts, and as herders and hunters.  But our ancestors surely recognized other benefits as well. Many animals provide comfort as companions.  It is well accepted that pets relieve stress and they keep us from being lonely.  Think of all the useful ways animals are put to use for therapy and as service animals. 

I know already one of the most important benefits Tupence brings to us.  We laugh a lot at her antics and frolicking, and that is a good enough reason for us. Definitely important to keep fun and humor in our lives as old people while we live shut up at home most of the time during this corona pandemic.

We’ll keep her even if we can’t train her!!  

Old Songs for an Old Man

For some months I have used a book by Richard H Schmidt to meditate on some of classic hymns of the Church.  There are 40 of these hymns in this book, Sing to the Lord an Old Song: Meditations on Classic Hymns, (Forward Movement, Cincinnati, Ohio, 2019).  

Most mornings I read the texts of each hymn, trying to concentrate on the message and recreate the tune from my memory.  Schmidt provides  reflections on each stanza which usually speak to my own soul's needs and wonderings. I find it quite instructive to read the short blurb about the author of the hymn, and the composer of the tune (never the same person).  I am curious about the historical context and relevance of the hymn and why might it have endured and meant so much to so many for so long - in many cases for centuries.  

Then with the use of technology there is the added advantage of listening on my I-Phone to wonderful recordings of most of these hymns by dialing them up on You-tube.  I prefer choral renditions accompanied by organ or orchestra. Altogether, this reading and listening guides my morning prayers, and the tune frequently stay with me as I find myself humming and singing the first lines of the hymn a couple of hours later.  

I am drawn to these traditional hymns because of the richness of their poetry and soundness of theology as well as the emotional responses that arise within my heart from the music. Even as I know some of these hymns by heart from the many times I've sung them in worship, often since childhood, there are a number of them that were new to me. I was glad to make their acquaintance. 

The first line in Schmidt's Preface says it well for me, "Tears don't often come to my eyes in church, but when they do, it's usually because of a hymn - not a sermon, not a biblical or liturgical text, not the beauty of the architecture or the stained-glass window, but a song."  

Preferring the old and classic hymns puts me in the category of my (older) generation who choose "traditional" as compared to "contemporary" worship settings.  It is not that I don't like to sing "praise" or "renewal" songs.  In fact, I sometimes like to strum my guitar and sing these songs, especially Taize, alone or along with others.  But, as the only music used in liturgical worship,  I sometimes find the repetitive and stock phrases of praise songs to lack the depth and challenge of classical hymnody and writing.  I especially object to their use as performance during worship.  I find that the poetry and composition of classic hymns lends itself to reflection and meditation, and especially to prayer.  I very much dislike the thought that these time-tested hymns may be becoming lost as churches search for ways to be "relevant" and grab the attention of the next generations.  I believe that people of all generations seek deep and meaningful ways to relate to and be with the divine presence, and the old songs should be in the mix of our human attempts to worship and commune with our God.

*

Readings on Martin Luther and the Reformation

A couple of months ago I started reading about the Protestant Reformation and discovered there are probably more books and articles about and by Martin Luther and the Reformation then just about any other figure in history.  Well, except Jesus, I guess.    Someone said that a list of the ten most influential people in history would certainly include Martin Luther. I am finding myself fascinated by medieval history and the many currents and personalities that led up to the reformation and made it not only possible, but inevitable. 

Wil Durant, in his 900 page book, "The Reformation" (not quite through with that one yet), wrote, "What circumstances of heredity and environment had molded an obscure monk in a town of three thousand souls, into the David of the religious revolution?"

The first 330 pages of Durant's monumental work gives the background leading up October 31, 1517 when Luther posted his 95 theses on the Wittenberg church door and ignited the simmering social, political and ecclesiastical bombshell. We are still living in the legacy of those reformers, Luther, Zwingli, and Calvin, and even before them John Wyclif in England and Jan Huss in Bohemia. 

My wife, Judy, and I read the novel, "Katharina and Luther", a fictional account of the relationship between Luther and Katharina Von Bora, a nun who escaped from a convent along with 11 other nuns and was taken in by Luther for protection until he could find appropriate husbands for them..  Eventually the 42 year old monk married 26 year old Katharina.  A fascinating story, though Judy thinks it is a bit too romanticized.... but reading other references about Katharina verifies the basic historical outline of the story.  She was a formidable woman for her time, and indeed, for any historical period. 

Judy has just finished "A Reformation Life: Katharina Von Bora" by Rudolf and Marilynn Markwald, a historical biography of that extraordinary woman.  Franklin Fry wrote in the Foreword that "We can learn much from her about the sacred character of our "ordinary" settings, relationships, and activities".  More about her in a later blog post.

 

Then I reread the English language classic by Roland Bainton, "Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther', a book that came out in the 1950s and has been in storage or sitting on my bookshelf for the last 50 plus years.  Of course, the title "Here I Stand" refers to one of the famous statements uttered by a human, when Luther was brought before the Holy Roman Emperor and the representatives of the Pope and refused to recant - in the face of the treat of excommunication and a death sentence for heresy.  His full statement was: "Unless I am convinced by scripture and plain reason - I do not accept the authority of popes and councils, for they have contradicted each other -- my conscience is captive to the Word of God.  I cannot and will not recant anything for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe.  God help me, Amen".  It is thought that he added "Here I stand, I cannot do otherwise". though these words don't show up in the minutes of the meeting - probably because the listeners at the moment may have been too moved to write!

Another interesting book just published is "Here I Walk: A Thousand Miles on Foot to Rome with Martin Luther", by Andrew L Wilson.  We met Andrew and his wife Sarah Hinlicky Wilson in St Paul in December during a presentation about their 2010 trek from Erfurt, Germany to Rome, roughly trying to retrace the steps of Luther's 1000 mile walk in 1510.  This is a travel journal, with many reflections on faith, pilgrimage, the Reformation, and many sites that Luther may have visited, though some of the most interesting passages are about encounters with the land and people on that route today... Germany, Austria, Switzerland and
Italy. 
 
We will be leading a discussion with a group at Gold Hill Lutheran here in Butte using an excellent resource titled "Together by Grace: Introducing the Lutherans" edited by Kathryn Kleinhans ... with short articles on a wide variety of topics mostly related to the Reformation by over 30 qualified pastors, historians and theologians.  Hopefully, we will have a rich exchange of views and sharing of experiences by this group of  mostly life-long Lutherans.  Will be interesting to see if we gain any new insights. 

In this, the 500th year anniversary of the Reformation I plan to post a few blogs from my reflections, reading and attempts to understand the legacies of the Reformation for us in our day.  There are a couple of other books on my reading table, but enough for now. 
Jerry