Lotte’s Gift Stirred Me To Reflect

Lotte Lee prepared her gift in this kitchen.

On our return trip to Hedley from Abbotsford last week, Linda and I had breakfast with our son and daughter-in-law in Lotte’s Luncheonette in Chilliwack. It’s a small Korean restaurant with only 5 tables. The congenial atmosphere fosters a sense of contentment and well being. We had been here before, usually on our way home. As always, Lotte welcomed us with a radiant smile and asked about our plans for the day. Once again, the breakfast she served us was delightful. Then, as we were about to leave, she presented Linda and me with a large coffee to go and 2 small specialty pancakes tucked into paper envelopes. A touch of cinnamon made them a delicious treat. “You have a long drive today,” she said, smiling broadly, “This is for your trip home.” Lotte’s gift made us feel quite special.

Lotte’s gesture reminded me of an observation in The Wind in my Hair, an autobiography by Iranian author Masih Alinejad. A friend told her, “People forget what you tell them, but they never forget what you do for them.”

As we negotiated the climbs, descents and curves of the Hope-Princeton later that morning, I realized Lotte’s gift made me feel worthy and lifted my spirits. It stirred in me the thought that over the course of my lifetime, I’ve been the beneficiary of some wonderfully life shaping interactions. Invariably, these encounters have been with individuals I respect for their integrity. It seems they had an innate, possibly unconscious desire to drop a pearl of blessing into my life.

As we passed the Manning Park lodge, my thoughts drifted many years into the past, when I was a late teen in my last year in school. Mr. Wally Klassen, the biology teacher realized I was struggling with his course. One day he asked me to stay behind after the class. “I can see this isn’t a strong area for you,” he said,”but if you put in the effort, I’ll make sure you pass.” A soft spoken man without guile or pretense, he evidently wanted to stand by this young student who had little aptitude for science. Now, many years later, I still deeply appreciate his desire to encourage me. A few years ago, just before Christmas, I called him, reminded him of what he had done, and thanked him. He didn’t remember me but he certainly was pleased to learn he had made a difference in my life. He was one of those all too rare individuals who has a vision for more than himself.

Sometimes a person’s words are a life impacting gift. In his latter years, my Dad was in a wheelchair due to a disabling fall. One day I took him to a classical concert in an Abbotsford church. Sitting several rows ahead of us I recognized Mr. Bill Wiebe, my former school principal. In a school that was then known to be strong in basketball, music and theatre, I had not done anything noteworthy. It was now many years later and I felt certain he would not remember me. After the program I introduced myself. “Yes, yes,” he said with enthusiasm. “I remember you. I read what you write in the local newspaper. Keep it up.” He was a man of immense authenticity, highly respected in the community. In this brief interaction he encouraged me to believe the views I was expressing publicly had value.

When I needed to transport several pieces of furniture from Princeton to Hedley some years ago, Gary Ross, a fellow Hedley resident, volunteered to haul them in his pickup. I accepted his offer gladly and said I would reimburse him for his time and expenses. He adamantly refused any payment. I still value this act of friendship and generosity.

Today, as I reflect on these and other priceless “gifts” that have come to me, I realize they have shaped my thinking and even the course of my life. I don’t consider it a stretch to say they have played a significant part in enabling me to believe I can dare more and do more. They have enriched my life immensely, and now I remind myself I have a responsibility and an opportunity to “pay it forward” and thereby enrich the lives of others.

Another look at Lotte in her kitchen located at #102-45645 Tamihi Way, Chilliwack, BC

Bridging The Chasm With A Plate Of Cookies

At Lukas’ door with a plate of cookies.

On a dark night last December, I was standing uncertainly at the front door of Lukas, my cross town neighbour. Before ringing the doorbell, I hesitated. Was I foolishly venturing too far into unfamiliar territory? I had never met Lukas, but I knew he was known in the community for racing around town in his car at night, laying long black strips of rubber, waking citizens from their peaceful sleep, and terrorizing anyone still on the streets. A lot of townspeople wished he’d go away, or be put away by a judge. Until recently he had been pretty lucky, but now the law was closing in. He was awaiting a court date for several serious driving infractions and had already demonstrated a lack of respect for conditions imposed by the judge.

I was acutely conscious of the chasm of values, experiences and lifestyle between us. Also, there was the matter of age. Lukas is only 20. My hair is as white as the snow on the mountain tops surrounding Hedley. Would he resent my unannounced intrusion into his life? Would I be rebuffed?

In one hand I held a small plate of Christmas cookies Linda had baked that morning. I hoped they might momentarily distract him from the chasm. I pressed the doorbell. A dog yelped excitedly, then the door opened.

I introduced myself and, holding the plate toward him asked, “do you like cookies?” Accepting the plate he said, “my grandpa loves treats. He’s here for a few days.”

I had anticipated suspicion, but he seemed surprisingly mellow and receptive. There was no edge or even a hint of hostility. Enboldened, I asked, “would you want to chat sometime?” “Anytime,” he replied, opening the door wide and motioning with his hand for me to come in. We talked for about 20 minutes, mostly about what had already been reported in the local media.

A couple of weeks later I had a conversation with Marvin, the grandfather. I learned Lukas had been very close to his mother until she passed away approximately half a dozen years ago. Losing her was a devastating event and his life began spiraling downward,

I had one more visit with Lukas. A few days later he was picked up by the police and will be in custody until his court date.

My experience with inmates in provincial and federal prisons causes me concern for Lukas and our community. As a society, our response to individuals like him suggests a lack of understanding, wisdom and creativity. Too often we fail to provide counselling and other assistance when they are young and likely less hardened. Courts impose probation, order community service and possibly sentence them to an all too brief program of rehabilitation that has inadequate resources. Then comes jail time.

I’m reminded of Simon, a 34 year old inmate I interviewed as part of a research project at Matsqui Institution. Like Lukas, his early associations and activities had pushed him to the periphery of society. Between brief jail terms, he managed to get married and father 2 sons. When he lost everything in a poker game, he had to tell his family they no longer had a home. Not having good work skills he fell deeper into a life of crime. By the time I met him he had become a hard core con, talking out the side of his mouth the way prisoners do in movies. All contact with his family and the outside world had been severed. When he was released on parole, he drifted back to his criminal associations and haunts in Vancouver.

Prison inmates are shaped by a subculture that makes them even less prepared to participate in the life and economy of mainstream society. Upon release, they frequently return to the community they had come from. If Lukas is placed in jail will he, like Simon, become steeped in criminal values, culture, attitudes, and lifestyle? This would be detrimental to him and also our community.

I’ve observed many times how difficult it is for anyone who has done time, even adolescents, to re-enter mainstream society. The younger and less experienced in criminal associations, the greater is the possibility of snatching them back, before the chasm becomes too wide and we can no longer reach them. Lukas will almost certainly return to Hedley. As individuals and as a society, we’d be wise to look for a more innovative response.