How God Prepared Us... And We Didn't Even Know It

By Tony Beck

How God Prepared Us...And We Didn't Even Know It is the story of one family's journey that will amuse you and inspire you, and maybe even bring back your own memories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tony Beck
• Release date: Jan 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370289721

Tony Beck

Born in 1943, technically I’m not a Boomer. However, I consider myself one since I grew up in the 1950s and 1960s. I had the Boomer experience. I was raised Roman Catholic and attended 12 years of Catholic education. I went to a secular college, and at that point I stopped going to church. After graduate school I joined the army. Those were the days of the draft, so I enlisted to have my choice of military specialty. Although I hadn’t asked for it, I was also assigned to German language school. After graduating I was sent to Germany for a year and a half. While I was in language school, Sue and I got married in 1968, and she accompanied me to Germany.After the army I went to work with IBM as a financial analyst, but left after three years to join Xerox, where I spent ten years in various financial positions. I then went to work for a couple of small, high-tech companies, did some consulting, and eventually spent ten years with a supplier to the pharmaceutical, diagnostics, and research industries as its CFO. We moved to Connecticut for one of those jobs, and lived there for 17 years.After we moved to Connecticut I started attending church after a 20 year absence, and began to participate in various Bible studies as well as becoming active in my local church’s ministries.My last job was with an English company starting up operations in the US. While working for them, I received a powerful call to go into the ministry. I began the United Methodist Church’s process for becoming a pastor. The Church has a program that allows you to do your readings and papers during the year at home, and then attend class for four weeks at the seminary during the summer.I was a pastor for 13 years with the help of my wife Sue. Those were the best years of my life. We retired from local church ministry in 2013.When I look back over my life (as well as Sue’s life) we can see God’s hand, preparing us for the pastoral ministry (even though we didn’t realize it at the time). And that’s how I went from business executive to pastor.

Book preview

Copyright ©2016-2017 by Tony Beck, Fishkill, NY 12524

How God Prepared Us...And We Didn’t Even Know It/ Tony Beck

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the enail address below:

Contact: [e-mail]

Cover & Interior Design: D.E. West / ZAQ Designs & Dust Jacket Creative Services

Digitally published by Dust Jacket at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION

To my dear wife, my partner in ministry and in life.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Introduction

Chapter 1: Childhood: The York Years 1943-1956

Chapter 2: The Andover Years: High School & College 1956-1965

Chapter 3: Graduate School, Enlisting, and Marriage 1965-1968

Chapter 4: The Germany Years: Jeff’s Birth, IBM 1969-1973

Chapter 5: The Rochester Years: Xerox, Stephen’s Birth, 1973-1985

Chapter 6: The NJ and New Fairfield Years 1983-2002

Chapter 7: God’s Call and the Process: Canaan 1999-2002

Chapter 8: The Beacon Years: Parish Ministry 2002-2013

Chapter 9: Insights from My Life

Chapter 10: Special People in Our Family

Chapter 11: Remembrances and Perspectives

Conclusion

INTRODUCTION

Dear Sons, Grandsons, and Future Generations,

We sometimes refer to days gone by as back in the day… often followed by a description of how things were back then. Usually we look back with nostalgia because things were better, at least in our remembrances if not in reality. In this book, which is in the form of a letter to you, I want to give you an idea of what life was like back in the day as seen through Sue’s and my experiences in school, in the army, at work, at home raising a family, and in ministry.

Now that I’ve gotten older and am retired, I’m beginning to think more and more about my legacy. In conducting research on our ancestors, I came to realize how little I know about them, except for some dates and places. I know very little of their stories. Some stories about parents and grandparents have been handed down through family lore, but the further back you go to earlier generations, the less you know about them. I can’t even be sure I have the right Beck stepping off the boat in Philadelphia in 1748.

To avoid Sue’s and my stories being lost to posterity, I have written this book for you to read and pass on to your children and grandchildren. I have multiple purposes in writing this book:

First of all, I want to tell Sue’s and my personal stories, and share with you some of the experiences and information concerning our extended family. You might be familiar with some of these narratives, but the next generation or two after you will not. So please save this book and pass it on to your kids. While Sue’s and my stories are not extraordinary, I hope you will find them informative, interesting, inspirational, and occasionally funny. Most of my waking adult life was spent in the workplace earning a living. Therefore, I’ve included a number of anecdotes about some of my more unusual or amusing experiences at work and in ministry that I hope you will enjoy. Where appropriate I’ve also included a life lesson to be learned from the experience I’ve described.

Sue and I have had very good lives, but not without some challenges. We’ve lost parents sooner than expected, faced layoffs, have taken care of aging relatives, dealt with diagnoses we’d rather not hear, occasionally lived with uncertainties, and have had a few scares. Our strong love for each other and our faith in God got us through whatever crisis we were facing. Fortunately, we’ve not had to face some of the extraordinary and heart- breaking things that other families have had to deal with. I hope you can learn something from what we’ve lived through, and appreciate what you have as well.

Second, I want to illustrate what life was like back in the day, when we were growing up in the late 1940s, 1950s and 1960s. I’ll do that through our personal experiences and recollections. For anybody reading this who lived through those decades, I hope these remembrances will trigger some pleasant memories from your own childhood. Those decades seem to hold a certain fascination for later generations, especially the music, the protests, and so on. That timeframe was the basis for television programs (Happy Days) and movies (A Christmas Story). Of course it was also the time of the controversial war in Vietnam, and that war was the basis for any number of movies such as Full Metal Jacket and Apocalypse Now.

Third, I want to give you some thoughts and reflections on life – some of the things I’ve learned that might help you. I give my personal philosophies concerning various aspects of life that I hope will give you something to think about.

Fourth, I want to tell you about how God worked in Sue’s and my life, guided us, protected us, and transformed us. That narrative includes my call to the ordained ministry, Sue’s call to her ministries, and our experiences in those ministries.

The first part of the book focuses a lot on me and my personal experiences from childhood through college, the army, and my various jobs. I also tell of our family’s trips, moves, and other experiences. The last part focuses on our conversions, our time in ministry, our faith walk, and things we’ve learned along the way. To accomplish anything worthwhile you need the right partner, and Sue and I are the right partners for each other. Without her support, I could not have done many of the things I did (or at least have done them as well as I did). As you’ll see we were partners in ministry and partners in life.

I thank God for Sue and the good marriage we have. I’ve seen some pretty bad marriages in my travels, so I am sincerely grateful for Sue and her patience with me. When I retired I promised to spend more time with her, and I have. I hope this will, at least in part, make up for those times when we were apart, such as me having to work overtime when I would have rather been at home.

Let me give you a list of some of the main characters in his book so you’ll know the person I’m referring to:

Melvin: my father

Mel or Mel, Jr.: my brother

Avenel: my mother

Aunt Fairy: my father’s sister (my grandmother went in for unusual names)

Sue: my dear wife Jeff: our oldest son Steve: our youngest son

Dave and Janet Barry: Sue’s parents

CHAPTER ONE

Childhood: The York Years 1943-1956

EARLY YEARS

My Birth

I was born in the York Hospital in York, Pa., in the middle of World War II when there were shortages of many things, including doctors. Baby food, baby blankets and other items were almost impossible to find, so my parents, Melvin and Avenel, had to improvise. Some of the available goods were of poor quality, made from recycled raw materials because the good stuff was going towards the war effort. My parents had bought such a baby blanket (that’s all that was available), and I had an allergic reaction. They had to throw it out because it was not usable. Melvin and Avenel were living on Second Avenue in the Elmwood section of York, Pa., at the time of my birth.

My mother’s pregnancy was difficult and there was the possibility that the baby (me) would be lost. Avenel was bedridden for a while as a preventative measure after there had been some bleeding. At the delivery the only doctor available was an elderly one brought out of retirement to help backfill the shortage of doctors caused by the war. It was discovered that the delivery was to be a breech birth (rear-end first rather than the usual head first). Melvin, whose first wife died at an early age, was afraid of losing another wife and prayed fervently to St. Anthony to spare his wife and child (me). He promised to name the child Anthony if the mother and child were kept safe. We were and he did. Not only did I live, but I dodged the bullet when it came to names. I probably would have been Melvin, Jr., but my brother got stuck with that.

LIFE ON HIGHLAND ROAD

The first thing I remember was the move from Elmwood to 182 Highland Road in Southwood Hills in the early spring of 1946. I don’t remember my mother’s pregnancy with Mel Jr. or them bringing him home from the hospital. I don’t remember the house at 1638 Second Avenue in Elmwood, although if I went into it I might recall it. I only remember moving into the new house on Highland Road, with the movers bringing things into the house. I remember pointing out my room to them so they knew where my stuff went and wouldn’t make a mistake. They must have thought I was an annoying little kid.

When asked by adults what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said I wanted to be a mailman. I guess I wanted to be a mailman because he brought stuff right to the house presumably, bringing joy to people. Only later did I realize that most of what he brought were bills, which typically don’t bring joy to the recipient.

I believe they moved from Second Avenue to Highland Road because, with a second child (Mel Jr.), they needed more space. The Elmwood house was rather small. Melvin’s boss, was moving out of the Southwood Hills house and moving into an estate at the south end of Virginia Avenue. Apparently he pressured Melvin into buying the house when he found out he was considering a move.

Since my parents had only one car while we were living on Highland Road, I remember going with my mother to pick up my father from work (in the 1941 Plymouth). I distinctly remember getting my smallpox vaccination. I was told it wouldn’t hurt and it didn’t. When we picked up my father at work, he asked how the vaccination went. My mother told him it was quick and painless, and she tapped the center hub of the steering wheel with her fingernail to show how it went.

Another visit to the doctor was not so painless. My mother was taking the baby, Mel, to the doctor for a checkup, and I went along. I don’t remember how it happened, but I think when we were getting in the car, the car door was slammed on my fingers. We ended up going back into the doctor’s office for him to check out my fingers to see if anything was broken. Fortunately, there were no broken bones, just nasty bruises.

Riding the Rear Shelf

My parents’ 1941 Plymouth had a large rear shelf that was under the sloping rear window (see picture), and as a 3 or 4 year old I liked to lay up there while we were driving

somewhere. It was my own little resting spot. I guess it never dawned on them that it was extremely dangerous. If my father had slammed on the brakes or crashed into something, I probably would have gone flying towards the front, maybe hitting my parents with my body while in flight. I guess the police never saw this, because I think they would have pulled over my father. Many years later, our cat Chuck would do the same thing on a long drive. He’d spend some time laying on that shelf in our Volvo – I guess he liked the view. I’d look into the rear view mirror and see two big yellow eyes looking back at me.

The Plymouth had suicide doors and running boards. The pictures are not of our car but of a similar 1941 Plymouth that I got off the Internet. My father suspected we’d soon be in the war that had already started in Europe and Asia, so he bought a new car in 1941 (trading in his 1938 Plymouth) expecting the new car to last for the duration of the war – which it did. They kept that car until 1950, and bought a new Oldsmobile in 1948.

Early Trips

I remember my first train ride. We went to Philadelphia, probably in 1946 or 1947. On the train I had my first soft drink, a ginger ale, because they didn’t have any milk or juice. Right after it was poured I lifted it up to drink and was surprised to have my nose tickled by the bubbles. I immediately put it down thinking there was something wrong with it. When we walked into the hotel lobby in Philadelphia, I noticed a piece of furniture that looked like a large console radio, but with a glowing screen with moving pictures on it. I walked over to it and asked what this strange device was. I was told it was a television, that it was like a radio with pictures. I had never seen one in York.

It was probably on that trip that I was taken to the Philadelphia Zoo. As I stood in front of the giraffe enclosure looking up that such a strange animal, it bent its head down over the fence and licked my face. It didn’t really scare me since it happened so fast, and everybody around me made a big fuss over it.

We went to the New Jersey shore a number of times in the 1940’s. I remember driving there for the first time in the 1941 Plymouth, probably in 1946. The car was packed with my parents, me, my baby brother and a mother’s helper. My tricycle was tied to the front bumper and the baby’s carriage was tied to the back. We must have looked like a bunch of Oakies headed for California. We took a ferry across the Delaware River to south Jersey (this crossing was probably south of Philadelphia). We stayed in a large, multi-family house with some friends of my parents that year.

On another visit we stayed in a cottage, where I made friends with some of the other kids in the area. However, one time a couple of them locked me in what was probably an outside storage closet or shower stall. I started screaming and carrying on, and finally another kid let me out. During that same stay I was running out from the cottage to the ice cream truck and stepped on a bee, which stung me. I started screaming, crying and jumping around, and my parents worked to remove the stringer and relieve the pain. Once the trauma was over I was then upset that I missed the ice cream truck and started crying and complaining some more. So my father took me into town to get an ice cream cone to shut me up.

Melvin occasionally had business in New York City, and one time around 1948 or 1949 he took Avenel and me. I remember being fascinated by the tall buildings. In those days some of the cabs had what today is known as a sunroof. You could look out and see the tall buildings. NYC also had double-decker buses at that time. We went on a carriage ride near Central Park (I got something in my eye) and saw Peter Pan on Broadway (the understudy for Mary Martin played the title role that evening).

On the Boardwalk

On one of our trips to the Jersey Shore, when I was about five, we went out to eat with some friends of my parents at a restaurant on the boardwalk (either Atlantic City or Ocean City I suspect). After I ate, I got restless and wanted to go out on the boardwalk. I was probably four or five years old. My parents said I could go out on the boardwalk but stay close to the restaurant and not wander away.

So I went out and walked around, but didn’t venture far. There was a large Mr. Peanut sign near the restaurant that I used as my landmark. I also made a mental note that my mother was wearing a red jacket. After I had been out there for a while, the restaurant and store lights went on as it got darker. I decided to go back into the restaurant, which was long and narrow, using Mr. Peanut as my guide. I walked back to where I remembered my parents were, but didn’t see them (I hadn’t gone far enough back). I left the restaurant and went into a couple of other establishments but no parents. I went back into the restaurant again, but didn’t see them. So there I was, this little kid, all alone on the boardwalk, either crying or on the verge of crying. Somebody saw me and asked if I was lost, and I said I was. I told them the story of leaving the restaurant and then trying to find my parents.

These strangers took me over to a cop, whose police car was parked on the boardwalk (or he drove it onto the boardwalk to be more visible to my parents). So there I am, sitting on a front fender of the police car with its roof light flashing. This attracted a small crowd, who were now watching out for a woman in a red jacket. Every time a woman in a red jacket walked by, people would point her out to me and ask, Is that your mother?

Eventually my parents left the restaurant, presumably wondering where I had gone. As they started to look for me, they noticed a police car on the boardwalk with its light flashing and a small crowd gathered. As they got closer, they saw me at the center of all this attention. As they drew nearer, I said, There they are! As my parents made their way through the crowd, dirty looks and murmurings about being bad parents greeted them.

My First Movie

Probably on that same trip to the Jersey Shore, my parents decided to take me to a movie, my first one. The Wizard of Oz had been re-released, and they figured it would be a good movie for a kid. Unfortunately they hadn’t taken into consideration the scary aspects of the movie: the Wicked Witch of the West, the flying monkeys, etc. This was made worse by the huge screen, Technicolor, and the dark auditorium.

I don’t know which scary part came first, but I started screaming and one of my parents took me out to the lobby to calm down. This happened several more times. That was my traumatic first movie experience.

PLACES WE LIVED

For whatever reason, we lived in 5 different places in York before moving to Massachusetts.

Unfortunately my parents usually moved into what I call old fogey neighborhoods populated by older people without kids my age. The Elmwood neighborhood might have had some kids because there was an elementary school down the street from our house. The neighborhood had sidewalks, which was good. Although the house was small, it might have been better to stay there and have me attend the local school.

However, my parents moved to Southwood Hills, which had no kids, no sidewalks, and was hilly. There was a girl about my age about 5-6 houses away but I don’t remember seeing her much. Irving Road was similar, but was not hilly and had sidewalks. There was a boy about my age in the next block who I played with occasionally.

The apartments were like kiddie heaven: lots of kids, a playground, a large sandbox, sidewalks, and even some nearby vacant lots to play in. When we moved to Country Club Road, it was back to old fogeys. I guess my parents liked the house because it was spacious, and the rooms were large. There were also sidewalks, and a few kids my age not too far away. Unfortunately my parents didn’t send me to nearby Grantley School, but to further away St. Patrick’s. So there were some neighborhood kids I didn’t really know well.

In my opinion, if they had to move from Elmwood, they should have moved into one of the new developments being built after the war: new, flat land, and lots of kids. But they chose a different path. A development was beneath them and they also wanted aa spacious house.

LIFE ON IRVING ROAD

After living in Southwood Hills for a short time, my parents realized they had made a mistake in buying that house. They felt the rooms were too small, there were few kids in the neighborhood, it was hilly with no sidewalks, making riding tricycles difficult. So they sold it and Melvin, Avenel and the boys moved to 190 Irving Road in the Sleepy Hollow section of York in late 1947.

I made friends with an eccentric inventor who lived down the street by the name of Mr. Wells. He was a widower and enjoyed my company. I remember driving with him in his 1937 or 1938 Ford with the floor shift and spare tire on the rear bumper. Even though he was older he still kept busy with some sort of work. He had a large drafting board in his dining room. His house was very cluttered but he was a very interesting character. He was considered an eccentric by adults.

Occasionally I visited with the next-door neighbors to the left on the corner of Irving Road and Queen Street. The man took me on errands occasionally and had a pet name for me, I believe from a cartoon character (Thorndike). I remember a house being built across the street and watching the workers. I would get water for them to drink when they were thirsty and they explained their work to me.

I also made friends with an older boy a few houses down at about the middle of the block by the name of Carl who played with me occasionally. That family rented the garage that belonged to our next-door neighbors to the right of our house and was located on the alley at the far end of their property. Carl’s family kept their car in that garage. One evening we noticed an orange glow coming from the garage and discovered that the car in the garage was on fire. Others noticed it too and called the fire department. The owner of the car ran out and pulled the car out of the garage to keep the garage from burning down. The fire engines came down the alley right behind our house and the fire was put out quickly. Fortunately the fuel didn’t explode, but I remember Melvin being rather upset about the fire and not letting us out of the house to look at it more closely. I guess he was worried about an explosion. I thought it was exciting.

While living on Irving Road I remember being sick a lot. I got chicken pox, bronchial pneumonia, and other illnesses. One morning I woke up and couldn’t open my eyes. They were crusted shut. My mother applied a warm, damp face cloth to soften the crust so I could open my eyes. While we were living there I got my first pair of regular shoes. Up until that timeI had to wear corrective shoes because of some sort of foot problem. Mel also had a severe case of measles or some kind of childhood disease as well. Around that same time we got a new car, the 1948 Oldsmobile. It was very different from the 1941 Plymouth because it had automatic transmission, better brakes, and was a two-door.

The Big Fight

While we were living on Irving Road, my parents went away for a few days on a trip, I think to Florida to entertain customers on George’s boat. Or it may have been a trip to New York. Nanny babysat for us. Just before leaving, my parents had an argument. I mentioned the argument to Nanny and she seemed very interested. So I embellished the story quite a bit. The more interest she showed, the better the story got. I had my mother pulling off a doorknob from a door and throwing it at my father. Since my mother was somewhat volatile, it wasn’t too hard to believe although she never got violent.

Lesson: Don’t believe everything somebody tells you, especially a kid. Some of them have very active imaginations.

When my grandmother skeptically asked why she didn’t see a damaged door, I explained that they quickly got a repairman to fix it before they left. I had my mother hitting my father (which she never did) and all kinds of crazy things happening. As I look back, I can’t imagine an adult being so gullible as to believe such a far-fetched story, but I guess my grandmother wasn’t too bright. When my parents got home, she tore into them for their behavior. After she left, they tore into me for telling such fabrications.

Needless to say, I had an active imagination. While living on Highland Road, I made up imaginary friends who even had names. However, I usually didn’t lie.

LIFE AT THE APARTMENTS

For whatever reason, Melvin and Avenel didn’t like the house on Irving Road, probably because there weren’t any kids my age in the neighborhood. So after a fairly short time the family then moved to the Country Club Manor apartments on Country Club Road, at the corner of Richland Avenue.. These were newly built apartments – I remember seeing them go up in the 1947-1949 timeframe. There were a lot of kids around my age in the apartments for me to play with, and they even had a small playground for us kids. The apartment itself was small and I had to share a small bedroom with my brother, which I didn’t like. I was used to having my own room.

Mike and Nancy

I made friends with a boy named Mike, a kid my age who lived with his divorced mother Nancy in one of the apartments across the courtyard from us. They had a TV, so I went over to his place every afternoon to watch Howdy Doody and Gabby Hayes on TV. We didn’t get a TV until we moved to 521 Country Club Road in June of 1951.

Melvin and Avenel became friends with Nancy and kept up with her until her death in 1968. Nancy was dying of cancer and was in Johns Hopkins hospital in Baltimore in early 1968. I was stationed at Fort Holabird in Baltimore at the time, and Mike was a Marine officer (first lieutenant, I think) in Vietnam. He and I visited Nancy on the same evening just a few days before she died. Because his mother was in critical condition, he was pulled out of a forward post in Vietnam during a series of intense battles in which most of his unit was wiped out. He told me that his mother’s death saved his life, because he was certain that he would have been killed within the next few days had he not been pulled out.

LIFE ON COUNTRY CLUB ROAD

The apartments were temporary, and finally my parents found the house where they planned to live forever. In June 1951 we moved to 521 Country Club Road, just a few blocks from the apartments, which were at the corner of Country Club Road and Richland Avenue. It was a fairly large semi-detached house along a main road, between Grantley Road and Virginia Avenue. It was about 30 or so years old, and over the five years we lived there it required a lot of work to maintain and upgrade. It ended up becoming something of a money pit.

A couple of blocks away from our house on Country Club Road was The Outdoor Club, a country club with an 18-hole golf course. This large property was sold and became the campus of York College.

Brownie Arrives

I was told we could get a dog and a TV once we moved into our own house. My parents kept those promises. We got a female mixed-breed puppy from a litter by a dog owned by the owners of the local grocery store on Grantley Road. I still remember the store’s delivery truck pulling up to the house on August 7, 1951, the guy opening the back door, and seeing a carton with a number of puppies in it. He said to pick one. Melvin had told us he wanted us to pick a female. So we picked out a brown female with floppy ears.

That evening after dinner we stood in the kitchen looking at this little 6-week old pup, and tried to figure out a good name for her. My parents were keeping the dog in the kitchen since she wasn’t housebroken yet. Finally someone – it may have been me – came up with the name Brownie. We all agreed it was a good name for this dog, and so we called her Brownie. She served faithfully for about 15 years until she had to be put to sleep around 1967. Like many dogs, she loved to ride in anything. Mel and I would haul her around the block in our wagon and she loved it. She even leaned into the curves. She loved riding in the car and did well even on longer trips, like when we moved to Massachusetts.

OTHER EARLY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

At My Grandmother’s on King Street

My grandmother, Mary Beck, lived in a typical Pennsylvania row house at 324 E. King St. It was made of brick and had a flat roof. Her daughter Fairy and Fairy’s husband William lived there with her until about 1949, when they moved to 107 W. Cottage Place. I remember times at my grandmother’s house on E. King Street, such as visiting around Christmas (probably 1947 or 1948) and reciting to the assembled admirers most of the poem Twas the Night Before Christmas that I had memorized

I specifically remember one afternoon sitting in the small kitchen watching my grandmother boil water for coffee. For some reason she accidentally spilled some of the boiling water on my arm, scalding me. I was rushed to the doctor’s office where I was treated. A faint red scar from the scalding remained for several years.

I remember going down to the corner store with my grandmother to get an ice cream cone, which cost five cents, and walking to one of her friend’s houses a few blocks away to visit.

I remember my grandmother’s next door neighbor, Mrs. Bailey. She was a very nice woman, a good neighbor. One time when