My memory of Lois Swenson

The last time I saw her was several weeks ago in my living room with two of her old friends who, years ago, had taught school with her at Robbinsdale. They were trying to convince her to buy a unit and move into the Kenwood Isles Condominium (minimum age 55) where she’d possibly be my hall neighbor. She smiled agreement. Lois Swenson smiled a lot. But to occupy my building, she’d have to sell her house and its contents, much of it derived from her frequent dumpster divings. Shaking her head she said, “I’ll think about it.”

A few weeks earlier when she had provided me a ride to the monthly meeting of People of Faith Peacemakers, she was driving a new car. As I remember, her brothers had either forced her to get rid of the ancient, beat-up one she’d had or they’d given her the car. “Excuse me, just a minute,” she’d said as she removed an old non-working electric fan and a cardboard box filled with plants of some sort from the front seat of the car and placed them on the back floor of the sedan, filled with other miscellaneous material some could call junk. Lois was taking the fan to a friend who’d repair it, after which it would be given to a needy family, and the plants for her yard were being thrown away by city workers from a downtown site at the end of the blooming season.

She knew the dumpsters where treasures, not trash, were most common. Her favorite time to dumpster dive was when students left the various Twin Cities colleges for summer vacation. Rugs, furniture, canned goods, clothing—she’d find this all plus much, much more. And she knew people who could use them.

But that was just one aspect of the unique person who was Lois. She was a clearly defined member of the local peace community and her face was ever-present in demonstrations for peace and justice as well as planning meetings. A faithful member of the Lutheran Church, she was, in addition, supportive of all churches who supported justice and world peace. I think she could just as easily have been Roman Catholic or Unitarian. Religion was not an intellectual pursuit for her. It was a down-to-earth daily and hourly practice of goodness and mercy.

She could be impulsive. I remember that on one particular occasion when we’d set a time to meet, she was about 20 minutes late. She explained, “I was driving by this Lutheran church where I know the pastor and I decided I should just have a quick visit with him. We had a wonderful conversation about peace and what his church was doing about it and what it wasn’t and why.” “How did you get in to see him?” I asked, knowing that church officials are usually not open to the casual visitor. “Oh, we’ve been friends for years,” she said, “but it had been a long time since I had seen him.”

She had traveled to Central America and Africa, not as a tourist but as a peace activist. A complete obituary would carry information about these trips. Her accommodations in these countries were not those most Americans demand. She wanted to experience life there as the local people did. For example, some part of an African journey was via truck. As a result she was quite active in immigrant communities.

We had many gloomy conversations about the state of the world, both environmentally and politically; yet she always radiated good humor and hopefulness. I am trying to erase from my mind what her last moments on earth must have been like. The police reports say she died from a beating. Who? Who would have committed such a heinous act? Only someone who was either mentally ill or crazed with drugs. And I know, really know, that if she were able to talk to me and I began to castigate her murderer she would have cautioned me, “No matter how hard it is, we human beings have to forgive.”

• Please do not insinuate that mentally ill people are murders. We have a tough enough time getting over this kind of nonsense that people like you have to presume about us. Most people with mental illnesses are harmless. The real problems are those people who think they are judicious to be cynical and presumptuous. You may be old and mourning, but keep your presumptions about those of us who were born with genetic markers that don't make us perfect -- "like you." You appear to be a walking sandwich board in favor of having people cimmiting hate crimes against people with mental illnesses. I attended Macalester College, a boarding school in Europe, a language institute in Central America, and received my B.A. from University of Minnesota where I studied wars and diplomacy of the twentieth century. My honors advisor at De La Salle high school in the late 70s and early 80s encouraged me to apply for Harvard, Georgetown, and Cornell University. I chose to stay near home. I have been fluent in four languages. I have volunteered for the American Red Cross, the Norwegian Red Cross, the YMCA, U.S. Special Olympics, several student boards and as a University of Minnesota student senator. I have served on several boards of directors at the neighborhood, and county. I have spoken before crowds of 400-500 people. I adopted two kids -- one young adult and one 16-year old who had lost their parents in Africa, and put them through private high school and vocational school, with a monthly social security disability income check of $889. You are old and mourning, but not too sharp, too loose with your tongue, and dangerous. The stigma that people like you create in your obscenely presumptuous and dark fantasies of people with mental illnesses create reason for some people to take their own lives, feeling hopeless and cast out. You did your friend a great disservice by uttering such naive and hateful nonsense -- the kind that leads to suicides. - by Barry N Peterson on Mon, 07/09/2012 - 11:45pm
• My earlier comment on this page was not edited. After leaving Macalester College, I went to work for a couple of years and was given an opportunity to go to school and travel in Europe for ten months. I have been working since age eleven. I did not apply to Harvard or Georgetown, and it was Colgate University, not Cornell. I apologize if I have raised red flags, but there are few chances in our society to immediately and publicly comment on the insults and crims against people with mental illnesses. I have Bi-Polar Depression and Anxiety Disorder. Please do not use presumtions about mentally ill people in commentary -- whether public or private -- that insinuates that we are likely to harm other people. More frequently those of us who have been vulnerable experience physical and verbal attacks, death threats, and no help from the police or academic administrative community (circa 1988-1991, before and just after President George H-W Bush signed into law the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990). - by Barry N Peterson on Tue, 07/10/2012 - 12:22am