Category Archives: Geneva, Ill.

Nighthawks

ll week I’ve been hearing Nighthawks calling as they fly over downtown Geneva. Loud, too. Sometimes their nasal “peent, peent” call sounded so loud they must have been just a dozen feet over my head. But somehow I never saw one.

Then last night, Carol and I went walking down toward the river at about seven o’clock. By the time we got to Second Street, I could hear that “peent, peent” overhead, but I still couldn’t see them. Carol was patient with me, even though I stopped every fifty feet or so — “That one was really loud! But I still can’t see it.”

She was patient with me, that is, until we got onto the State Street bridge, and I walked into her because I was looking up at the Nighthawks. “That hurt,” she said. I apologized, and then looked up again. Now I could see them everywhere.

Swarms of insects were rising up from the river — maybe Mayflies doing their mating flight, but I don’t know much about insects — thousands of insects, anyway. Hundreds of Chimney Swifts were flying over the river, chittering and flitting to and fro, feeding on the insects. And there were Nighthawks among the swifts, twenty or more of them, with their wings crooked back, fluttering back and forth, up and down the river, chasing insects and calling out “peent, peent!” No, more than twenty of them. Lots of Nighthawks.

Don’t ask my why I got so excited about Nighthawks last night. Maybe because of the flittery way they fly. Maybe because they only come out at dusk, or because they’re close relatives of Whipoorwills. Or maybe because they are one of the last migrants to come north, a sign that spring is coming to an end.

The sun set amid white and gold clouds. An hour later, the moon rose in the cool evening air, orange and huge on the horizon. Summer’s almost here.

Master’s thesis, anyone?

The archives of this church contain lots of fascinating historical documents. According to Keith Coryell, director of the Geneva History Center, the original record book of the church, dating back to 1842 and earlier, could easily generate a master’s thesis in history. I’ve recently been looking at another remarkable document in the archives here, titled “Records of the Unitarian Sunday School of Geneva Ills. copied from original entries in another book beginning with the date of Nov. 9, 1867, ending with June 12, 1892.” The records continue in other hands to the closing of the Sunday school in 1901 due to lack of enrollment, with one additional entry recording a christening in 1907. This record book, combined with other material in the archives, could be the foundation of yet another master’s thesis, this time in religious education.

Here’s one entry from the Sunday school record book, written in a beautiful round hand with a very fine pen nib:

January 1st 1896

An entertainment was given by the Unitarian Sunday School, at the Unitarian Church on New Year’s Eve and was attended by a packed housed [sic] and proved to be a very entertaining affair. The efforts of the children, big and little, in representing the holidays of the year under the leadership of Father Time, were really good — all given in costume — and made a decided hit, besides being in an entirely new line. They were assisted by Mae Blackman in solos, Mrs. Will Harvey in readings, Stella Mann in Recitations, and the little Cory Sisters in duetts [sic] and solos. Mrs. Woolley [Rev. Celia Parker Woolley, minister here at that time] arranged and managed the affair and the lady teachers who assisted her, earned much credit.

A fee of ten cents was asked from those outside of the pupils of the school and the net proceeds were $12.00.

Sky drama

Carol and I were walking down Hamilton Street towards the river this afternoon, and just as we crossed First Street a small drama was enacted in the sky above us.

The first thing I noticed was three or four pigeons wheeling above the State Street bridge, and then flying low and fast upriver. Then a larger bird wheeled above us — it looked like a small hawk.

Twenty or so pigeons came from under the bridge, flying very close to one another, dropping quickly back down to cover by the bridge. The larger bird flapped twice, wheeled into the wind and soared for a second. As it turned above us, I could see it was a small hawk, an accipter, probably a Cooper’s Hawk.

The hawk wheeled twice more, and drifted downwind, towards the south. Suddenly another bird appeared close behind it — a Crow — then two more. The three Crows began mobbing the the hawk, driving it west away from the river. Half a dozen smaller birds broke cover and headed north, away from the hawk. Crows are just about the same size as a Cooper’s Hawk, so it hardly seemed a fair fight — three Crows mobbing the one Hawk.

The last I saw, the Cooper’s Hawk had dropped down to treetop level, still followed by the Crows. My guess is that it wanted to take advantage of its ability to dart and fly swiftly through trees, so it could get away from the Crows. I wondered if it is the mate of the Cooper’s Hawk that is sitting on a nest a few blocks from our house.

The symbol story

The following was written by Rev. Don King, and comes from the September 12, 1976, issue of the Pioneer, the newsletter of UU Society of Geneva:

The banner which hangs at the front of our church was made during the spring and summer by a group of women in the Alliance. The symbol which it displays was the result of an evolution which began during World War II and is still going on.

It began with the flaming chalice in the ellipse designed by Hans Deutsch, a refugee helped by the Unitarian Service Committee, and grew out of the need for some identifying mark in a world of many languages, stamps, and seals.

The basic part of the symbol is a chalice. The burning flame in the chalice is symbolic of helpfulness and sacrifice. The chalice with the flame remotely suggests a cross, which shows the background of our heritage [editor’s note: Don King was a humanist].

Fred Weidman, in Dearborn, Michigan, had the symbol made into jewelry and other decorative items. It was widely used by the Unitarian Service Committee, the American Unitarian Association, and many local churches.

About the same time, 1946, a group of Universalist ministers, including Richard Knost and Albert Ziegler, devised a symbol to represent their interpretation of Universalism. They put a Latin cross in a circle, but put it off center.

The circle, considered a perfect figure and being without beginning or end, suggested God and eternity. The cross indicated our Christian origins. As a whole, they symbol exhibits a tension and suggests an urge to strive for improvement in ourselves and our world. Revelation is not complete or final, but partial and growing. There is still much truth to be known.

In addition to the obvious uses — jewelry, lapel pins, letterheads, church bulletins — the off-center cross appeared in many churches in motifs of decoration and as an altar symbol.

With merger in 1961, and in some united churches still earlier, came efforts to devise a symbol which would combine the two already in use.

The Continental Association [i.e., the UUA] used two interlocking circles, symbolizing the union of the two denominations. These circles appeared on mailings from the office in Boston to identify them as Unitarian Universalist.

Several persons hit upon the idea of putting the flaming chalice in the circle. Such a device became the official symbol of the Midwestern Unitarian Universalist Conference and identified its letterheads and envelopes. It appeared on the banner of the Midcontinental Messenger from October, 1960, until February, 1964. A large mosaic was hung on the wall of the office at 5711 Woodlawn in Chicago.

While making a drawing of this symbol to be used on envelopes, Betty King [Don’s wife] hit upon the idea of putting the flaming chalice in the interlocking circles. Her sketch went to the printers and cuts and mats were made. Both symbols appeared in the August, 1962, issue of the Midcontinental Messenger. It was widely copied and still frequently appears on a church bulletin or on a special program [editor’s note: Betty King’s drawing is quite similar to the current UUA logo].

Fred Weidman had four copies of the chalice in the single circle made.

No widespread attempt has been made to design jewelry, but Betty King had about a dozen necklaces made and sold or gave them to friends. The Fellowship in Springfield, Illinois, had plaques made with the interlocking circles and chalice mounted on a wall shield.

The Unitarian Universalist Service Committee used it for several years, but now has abandoned it for a sort of ‘mod’ chalice design.

[The above is Copyright (c) 1976 by the Unitarian Universalist Society of Geneva.]

I think Don King’s short essay is an interesting addition to the flaming chalice lore that circulates around our denomination. I particularly like the fact that he says this is a symbol which has evolved over the years, and which keeps on evolving.

Note that Don King makes no mention of the now-familiar three dimensional chalice which is lit at the beginning of many of today’s Unitarian Universalist worship services. Persumably, that was not happening back in 1976 here in Geneva.

Don’t judge a book by its cover…

They say we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. But my partner (who is unchurched) says she thinks you can judge a church by the food they serve.

Judged by that criterion, the Unitarian Universalist Society of Geneva is one of the great UU churches. This year’s Canvass Tea ended about an hour ago. Forty or more people gathered in the Common Room to enjoy absolutely fabulous food prepared by Elba K., William E., and their cadre of fantastic cooks.

Among my favorites were the tiny open-faced cucumber sandwiches, although the turkey salad sandwiches were equally delicate and tasty. I should also mention the chalice cookies, with a touch of frosting for the flame. The cream puffs were rumored to be amazing. The birthday cake (it happened to be the birthday of Elanor L. and Ellen M.) was incredible. A wide array of cheeses. There were so many choices, I didn’t even get to try everything.

(I also have to mention William’s rhubarb pie. He brought it for social hour last night, but there were a few slices left over this morning. This was a poem of a rhubarb pie. Lou P. and I were exchanging ecstatic comments as we ate two of the last slices.)

Needless to say, we had good conversation along with the good food at the Canvass Tea. I sat at a table with some young people, a few middle-aged folks like me, and a couple of elders, and we talked about everything under the sun. Churches are one of the few places where people of all ages can sit together, share a meal, and just talk — it’s one of the main reasons I go to church.

Good food. Good conversation. What more could you ask for?

Spring watch

Sure signs of spring showed up in the past few days —

Early daffodils in full bloom today two blocks from the church, on the south side of the Dupage Library System building — which is right across the street from 18 Campbell St., the house of Augustus Conant, first minister of this church.

Looks like only one of the owlets remains in the nest next to the courthouse — s/he wasn’t there yesterday, nor again today. It is likely the other one has gotten good enough at flying to head off on his/her own.

Tree Swallows are back. I saw several dozen over the river an hour ago, just downstream from the Union Pacific West Line bridge. It looked like they were finding lots of insects — insect hatches are another sign of spring.

And it will really feel like spring tomorrow, because Daylight Savings Times begins. If you’re coming to church tomorrow morning, don’t forget to set your clocks ahead!

Spring watch

Back in early March, I mentioned the Great Horned Owl I had been hearing all winter. I had only ever heard a male, and wondered what his breeding status was. At coffee hour after the Saturday evening service, someone mentioned seeing the owlets. Owlets? Yes, the male owl I had been hearing did find a mate (apparently I just never heard her calling), they nested in a tamarisk at the northeast corner of the old court house, and the owlets had recently fledged. It seems likely that the adults are the same pair that used to nest in the tree in front of the church, until that tree came down late last spring.

I went over last night and found the tree. It’s easy to find because of the droppings, feathers, and bones under the tree. There was even a fairly complete skin of a small rabbit (gone as of this morning). I heard the male calling, but it was too dark to see anything else.

This morning I got over there early. It’s pretty foggy right now, but I did see the two owlets huddled together on a branch on the north side of the tamarisk, about a third of the way up, sound asleep. One of the adults was perched far up in the tree, but I did not see the other. If you’re over by the church in the next couple of days, it’s worth taking a look.

It may feel cold, and there isn’t much green yet, but fledged owlets means spring is definitely here.

Later note:

Craig and I went over between the two worship services. The sun was out by then, and we could see them quite clearly. The owlets don’t yet have their ear tufts, but their primary flight feathers appear to be grown in. We talked with an experienced birder who estimated the owlets have another week or two before they fly off. (He also let us look through his scope, so we got a real close-up of them.) Perhaps fifteen or twenty people from church made it over to see the owlets after the second worship service today. Don’t miss them if you’re in the area!

More Dr. Lyttle

Thinking about Dr. Lyttle yesterday prompted me to glance through some of the old church newsletters he produced from 1949 through 1964. At the top of the March, 1962, issue of “The Geneva Unitarian Pioneer,” Dr. Lyttle included this quotation:

“That worshipper of mine who cherishes no hate against any human being, but is full only of friendliness and compassion; who is free from self-seeking and the illusions of the self; to whom sorrow and joy are the same; always patient and content; given to meditation; self-controlled, resolute — he [sic] is dear to me. He [sic] before whom none is disquieted and who is disquieted before none — he also is dear to me….” (The Lord Krishna to Arjuna in the Bhagavad Gita)

Further down the page, I find this announcement:

“‘The Ethical Teaching of the Major Oriental Religions’ has been chosen as the central theme of our pre-Easter sermon series. It will be interesting to note the ehtical unison amid the diversity of ideological counterpoint. The treatment of each ‘gospel’ will, however, be as realistic and practical as possible.”

What a religious inheritance we have been given in our church. What a privilege to be part of this historic church!

Remembering Dr. Lyttle

Today, I happened to be talking with Dave Johnson on denominational business. Like me, Dave is currently serving as an interim minister. The conversation meandered, as such conversations do, and we wound up talking about the congregations we’re currently serving.

When Dave found out where I’m serving, he said, “Geneva, Illinois? I spent some time out in the Geneva church.” Turns out he was a student at Meadville Lombard Theological School when Charles Lyttle was both a professor at Meadville Lombard and the minister out here in Geneva. And Dave was one of the student ministers Dr. Lyttle brought out to gain experience here in Geneva.

Needless to say, I asked Dave about Dr. Lyttle. Dave told me one story about Dr. Lyttle coming out from Chicago to do a child dedication. But when he got here, he realized he had forgotten to bring a flower. It was spring, so Dr. Lyttle went out the front door of the church and grabbed the nearest flower. The long stalk and the roots came with the pretty white flower, but that didn’t stop Dr. Lyttle. He marched into the church carrying the flower, roots and all, and the child dedication went on.

Dave added that photographs of Dr. Lyttle don’t adequately represent his sense of humor, and his sense of fun. Dr. Lyttle thought church should be fun, says Dave, and he made sure the Geneva church was a fun place. (I think you can see some of that in the portrait our church has of Dr. Lyttle — the artist has captured a definite twinkle in his eyes.)

Dr. Lyttle sounds like my kind of minister.