Salvation Army Memories

Sometimes, in all of my quarantined loneliness, memories pop into my head out of nowhere.  I always feel the need to write them down, even if they have nothing to do with anything else that's going on in my world at the time.  This is one of those times.

I am an amateur radio operator.  One time, along about 1998-99, I heard someone calling on our local repeater for a friend of mine named Larry.  I didn't know the other fellow, but I could tell by listening to their on-the-air conversation that Larry had a lot of respect for this guy.  The fellow (WW9E) was on his way to a meeting somewhere in Indiana, and called for Larry.  The next day, he was going back through the area on his way home.  He called for Larry, but Larry didn't respond, so I did.  In fact, I talked to the fellow until he ran out of repeater range, probably 45 minutes or so.  His name was Pat.  He was an officer (minister) for the Salvation Army, working in Emergency Disaster Services (EDS).  He had been to a meeting in Central Indiana and was heading back to the Chicago area where he had been stationed for quite a few years.  A couple of days later, I received a packet in the mail that included an application to be a member of the Salvation Army Team Emergency Radio Network (SATERN).  It turned out that this Pat fellow was the National Director of SATERN, the largest faith-based radio network in the world!  I applied and was accepted.  Thereafter, Pat called me on a regular basis, essentially to train me in EDS circles, but also because we had struck up a personal (platonic) friendship.  Because of his influence, and my inability to say "no", I became the Indiana  SATERN Coordinator, and Major Pat included me in every training opportunity he could.  In the meantime, I also became friends with his wife, Carmella.  I went up to visit them often in Elk Grove Village, IL.

Major Pat had a practice of going out for "coffee" daily.  When I was there for a weekend visit, he insisted that I go with him, even though Carmella refused.  (They had grandchildren living with them without their mother.  I think it was just easier for her not to go out for breakfast because she couldn't leave the children home alone.)  So, Pat and I would go alone, with her blessing--to Baker's Square close by.  I always ordered a certain "skillet" on the menu, and he would always pretend not to want anything but would eat whatever I left behind.

With all of that backstory, here is what I came to write about:

1.  One day, as we drove into the driveway on our way home from Baker's Square, we were approached by an elderly Asian lady on foot who appeared to be lost and confused.  She didn't seem to speak English.  On a hunch, Pat called a member of a Korean Corps (church) nearby to see if one of the people there could talk to her on the phone to determine a name or address or something.  His hunch was right.  She was Korean, visiting family in Elk Grove Village, but had no clue of her family's name or address.

His next approach was to put her in the passenger seat of his car (with me in the back) to drive slowly around the neighborhoods to see if she recognized houses where she might belong.  He would point, etc., but she never acknowledged that anything was familiar to her.  Hmmm...

When we finally got back to the driveway, Pat decided to call the police to tell them what was going on.  Their response was that her family had been searching for her and were frantic.  "Keep her there.  Don't let her out of your sight.  They will be there shortly to pick her up."  I'm not sure if she understood what we were telling her about staying with us, but her family was there within a few minutes.  I don't speak Korean, but I could tell by tone of voice and body language that they were happy to see her but also upset.  Why?  It seems that she had left the house at 5:00 AM to take a walk.  It was now at least 10:00 AM.  No wonder they were frantic!

I have always wondered in the many years since then what I would have done in the same circumstances.  God put that poor woman in the right place at the right time.  Pat stayed with her, and made her stay with us, until there was a happy resolution.

2.  One time when I was visiting up there, a disaster call went out.  Authorities were diving in a retention pond in an effort to find a man who had gone in but hadn't come out.  A Salvation Army canteen was placed on scene to provide snacks/drinks to everyone involved in the recovery effort.  Pat and I went in to a convenience store where he, basically, wiped them out of candy bars and snacks to put on the canteen.  I think the bill was over $90.  He didn't even blink.  "This is what we do."  The body was eventually recovered with the victim's relatives sitting along the banks of the pond, observing and praying.  It was sad, but it taught me a bunch about how to take care of others when the going gets tough.

3.  On another visit, I was part of a mission to feed some folks in a trailer park in Robbins, IL.  (Very southern suburb of Chicago.)  The authorities (not sure who) was trying to shut the park down.  Residents had been told to move out, but didn't/wouldn't, mostly because they had nowhere to go, so power to the park was turned off.  That put a lot of hard-core residents in a hard place.  The Rev. Jesse Jackson turned to the Salvation Army to help, so a canteen was sent to Robbins twice a day to feed folks in the park until other arrangements could be made.  I went with Pat on the canteen, I think twice that weekend, and learned a lot about serving the poor on those trips.  Some were grateful.  Some wanted more.  Some didn't like what was offered.  Some weren't happy with our time schedule.  But everyone who showed up, whether a resident or not, was given food.

4.  One time, not long after 9/11, Pat was going to be traveling in Central Indiana on his way home from something.  We met for a meal here in Plainfield before we were to caravan to Chicago so I could participate in a disaster preparedness exercise called Operation TopOff, that would involve O'Hare International Airport and many other disaster entities.  There was bad weather in Indiana that day, so we waited to depart until it passed.  Of course, we were in radio communications all along the way.  Pat was ahead of me in his vehicle, while I brought up the rear.  I was still listening to Indy commercial radio, hearing reports of tornadoes.

At one point, Pat radioed me that he had just heard from the Indiana Division Commander by phone, asking if he knew where I was.  (The man knew were were close friends.)  Pat said, "She is right behind me on our way to Chicago."  It seemed that a tornado had ripped through Martinsville, IN, just a few miles south of my home, and SATERN was being called up.  Pat and I were getting close to Chicago when the call came through, and it was getting late in the day.  We pulled over into some restaurant somewhere.  He handed me his cell phone, and I started making calls to make things happen at home, realizing all the time that I was seriously unprepared to deal with a real emergency.
At one point, I said, "I have to go back."  Pat said, "Yes, you do."  And so it was.

We continued on to Elk Grove Village where I spent the night, then left for Indiana very early the next day.  At the time, I had an HF radio in my car.  I talked to the Net Control of MIDCARS--a hailing frequency for mobile units--telling him to please be alert for people who might be trying to reach me because of the circumstances.  The NC said, "I'll clear the whole frequency if you need it!"  (God, I love amateur radio!)  I spent the next 11 days going to work at school, then leaving immediately for Martinsville to see how everyone was doing.  We had a good system going, thanks to my stalwart SATERN operators.  I couldn't have asked for more!

Major Pat passed away, suddenly, three years ago around this time.  He had never smoked or drunk a single alcoholic beverage in his life, yet his lungs and heart gave out.  I miss him terribly.  He taught me so much, and I like to think that he learned a thing or two from me.  I was so blessed to have him in my life.