The Agonal Breath

 

The Agonal Breath

My friend Webster tells me that agonal is related to, associated with the act of dying and occurring just before death. I looked around a bit to get a better sense of the term ‘agonal breathing’, and I see that it is an abnormal pattern of breathing, a brainstem reflex accompanied by gasping and labored breath. I read that the duration can range from two breaths to several hours. As for my experience, it has been of longer duration than two breaths.

Over a seven-year period, I have sat with four people during their agonal breathing: my parents and my parental in-laws.

My mother-in-law was the first. I was not alone for any part of the vigil with several family members present at the care facility. Her breathing, while labored, was quiet and shallow, as though she did not want to make a fuss. After a few hours, I was dispatched to bring food for everyone but before getting to the deli, I received the call that she had passed away. I doubled back to support the family and was asked to pray for Jan before she was taken away.

The next was my dad, followed ten short weeks later by my mom. Dad had been in hospice care at home for four or five weeks, a short time as we were told by the hospice support folks. In a sense, my mom had been his primary care person and was providing unsupported hospice care for him for more than a year. My sister and I were taking shifts watching him through the night. She woke me at 2am when he had begun to really struggle. We made him as comfortable as we could, and I began my 15-hour vigil. Dad had suffered from emphysema for many years, and his agonal breathing was labored to the max even with the pain meds that had been given to him. Bob, my brother-in-law, sat with me for nearly an hour and I will be forever grateful for his company. Denise checked in from time to time, she is an angel. Mom was in her own fight for life recuperating from a fall and a separate surgical procedure. She joined me for the last hour of dad’s life. His final three breaths were the least labored I had seen for him in ten years. He did not want to die.

Mom had a feeding tube put in because of an inability to swallow. I think we were about a year to late with getting her to do that. She had been starving, and all the while, tending my dad, getting him to do his breathing treatments, taking him into his appointments, dressing his wounds from skin cancer, and getting him to eat. My sisters and I took those over but too late. Mom’s body was shutting down. We drove her from Oregon to Quartz Hill so Stacey and I could take care of her better through the winter months. She was here only a few short weeks when she became nearly unresponsive. We had her taken to the hospital where I sat with her in the ER for eight hours. She struggled, and with each hour they tried something new to stabilize her. She wanted to live. Mom’s breathing was shallow and rapid, punctuated by the occasional gasp. Covid protocol did not allow me to accompany her to her room when the doctors decided to check her in from the ER. I drove home. An hour later I got the call that she had passed away. It was as though she wanted to be by herself and save me the agony of being there.

My father-in-law was the latest. He had been in a car accident and bumped his head which eventually led to bleeding in his brain. He went from improving to declining and back, seemingly by the hour. My wife and her three brothers were in the hospital taking turns sitting with him. My son came in to see his grandfather, and he and I took a shift sitting with him. Daniel talked of the great hiking trips he had with his grandfather, and we regaled each other with memories of this beloved man. His breathing was slow with a deep struggle to take in oxygen. It was odd for Daniel and me. We got up at one point and stepped outside the room to prepare for a shift change when Gene’s sons got back but we were called back by a nurse. The last couple of breaths were so quiet, we did not even realize he’d stopped breathing. He was finally at peace.

This is Good Friday, the day Christians remember the day Jesus was hung on a cross and died. I think of the agony of hanging there, nails in his hands and feet, while onlookers jeered and tormented him. With my own experience, Jesus’ agony is real to me. This person, fully God, fully human, chose to be hung on a cross for me. In his agonal breathing, Jesus cried out to his father, “why have you forsaken me.” Jesus was forsaken so that I could be saved, so that I could have access to the father and life.

I can imagine Jesus’ disciples and his mother being present while he gasped and cried out. All this and yet he could offer grace to the thief hanging next to him. The photo I will use for this post shows three empty crosses. I cannot bear to show him hanging there. After all, in three days we will celebrate that he is risen, the stone closing his grave rolled away and that he has risen to be with the Father after having descended into Hell. All so that I will not have to descend but can instead live, and serve, and love.

The scriptures describe this occurrence:

Matthew 17: 45-46…50: ⁴⁵Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. ⁴⁶And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have your forsaken me?” ⁵⁰And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice and yielded up his spirit.

Mark’s account is very much the same with a subtle change to the last part of Jesus’ death. Mark 15: 37: ³⁷And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last.”

Luke’s version is a little different still – Luke 23: 46-47: ⁴⁶Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” and having said this he breathed his last. ⁴⁷Now when the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God saying, “Certainly this man was innocent!”

He will rise! We should bow.

jj white

Dear Russell

Dear Russell,

I’ve wanted to write this since the day I learned what your name would be; Russell Stone McBurney. Now you are a year old already and I feel somewhat foolish about having let my everyday life delay me in writing to an extraordinary person.

You are named after my dad, a man your dad called Papa. You would call him GPapa because he is your great-grandfather. He passed away five years ago now. Lord, how I miss him. I am going to tell you some of what I know about my dad. Your dad, his brothers and sisters, and your Grandma Amma and Grandpa Glen can tell you more about him through their eyes and heart.

A little more about this letter – this is the second edition, or my second try at getting it right. You see, I first used Russell Strong as your name and boy, did that embarrass me. Your dad says I can blame your Amma for this because she is an advocate of the ‘Strong’ nickname. Fear not, for I am determined to make this right and tie strong and stone together.

First let me lay the foundation with what my friend Webster (that’s what I call my dictionary) says about “stone”: “a piece of rock for a specified function: such as a building block, a paving block, a precious stone (gem), whetstone…”

Russell Stone is an apt name. Stones are hard, and big ones are heavy. GPapa could be very hard, firm in the way he handled me. Much of the way I am now is due to the way GPapa raised me. Stones are strong and we can build with them, make beautiful things with them, and skip smooth ones across the lake. He was all those things, a builder, beautiful, smooth on one side, rough on the other. I love him.

You will be a wonderful combination of your mother and father, just as I am a wonderful combination of GG and GPapa. I look forward to seeing how the mix works out in you.

Something I didn’t include in my first try at this letter and didn’t think of until I was sitting here writing about stones and how you can make beautiful things with them is that your GPapa was very creative, he was an artist. He played the clarinet as a boy and young man, he sang in the church choir with a wonderful bass voice. After he and GG moved to Oregon, he set up a woodworking shop and got into the art of intarsia which is the art of making a mosaic or picture out of wood. He used different types of wood for the various colors, no stains or paints.

He had all his children, grandchildren, and older great-grandchildren pick patterns out of catalog and make it for them. Except me. For me he knew exactly which one to use, a Red-tailed Hawk, my favorite bird. It was the perfect choice. One of my all-time favorite pieces is the elephant he made for GG, who had a collection of little elephants. I have it hanging on the wall of my office. He signed it on the back, “For B.J. (Betty Jean) By R.J. (Russel Jay) and Russell J. White, 11-21-2005”. I think I know where its next home should be.

For B.J. By R.J, Russell J. White, 11-21-05

Much like a stone, your GPapa was a very strong man. As a teenager, he bench-pressed 350lbs. He played football as a defensive lineman. He wrestled and competed in the California State Championships. GPapa was a bodybuilder, and I hope to send you photos most of us hadn’t seen until I found them in all his ‘stuff’ after he and GG (Great-Gramsy), your great grandmother passed away.

GPapa in a one-
handed handstand

GPapa's High School
football photo

GPapa was also agile, and he was a gymnast in high school. He was also a bit of a daredevil and did handstands on the edges of tall buildings in Manhattan Beach. He was quick, which is about the most athletic thing I inherited from him, me being a tall skinny kid while he was shorter and more powerful.

We played a lot of catch together, footballs, baseballs, frisbees…you name it, if we could throw it, we played catch with it. When I was a teenager, we played on the church men’s softball team together, he pitched and I played the outfield. We got into racquetball and played in tournaments. Toward the end of GPapa’s phone company career, he fell in love with golf, and both he and GG played for many years, taking great golf trips. I learned to play while I was in college and played with them both, though I stopped playing shortly after they moved to Oregon. It wasn’t as much fun for me playing without them.

All those physical things were fine, but he was much more than that. He was a smart man. In high school, he was a member of the honor society and was the Gardena High School president during his senior year.

From GPapa's H.S. Senior Yearbook

GPapa went to El Camino Junior College (now we call them Community Colleges), and he played a year of football there. He enlisted in the United States Navy after that first year of college so that he could help the country during the Korean War. He met GG (Your Great Grandmother) while they were both in the navy at the Seatle Naval Base.

They got married while they were up there and then GPapa got sent to sea on an aircraft carrier. There were over 1,000 men on that big ship and he became the U.S.S. Point Cruz boxing champion. When I was a young boy of about five or six, he started teaching me to box and talked about getting me into the Golden Gloves to compete with other boys my age.

GG and GPapa on Naval Base
Seattle

GPapa's Navy Portrait

GPapa was in the Sea of Japan between Japan and Korea on the day I was born. The story is that he was so excited that he went running through the ship to tell all his buddies. So excited that he slammed his thumb in one of the big iron doors. He never let me forget that one.

When he got back and we were united as a family, we lived in Torrence after he became a telephone man and started getting paid regularly. Torrence is only a short way from where he grew up in Gardena. GPapa had a very good career with Pacific Telephone and Telegraph (part of the old AT&T network) as a technician, then as a supervisor of technicians, and finally as a manager of supervisors. He was smart in how he dealt with people and could figure out how to put them to work on projects and in the field and get along as a team.

GPapa holding Jerry in one
hand, duplicated by Uncle Brad
with Mattingly

GG and GPapa rented a little house just after he was discharged from the US Navy until they found a house to buy on 175^th Street in Torrence, California. GPapa loved doing projects around the house. He built a cinderblock barbecue in the backyard, and he built a red brick planter and lantern in the front yard that is still there and working as of the time I wrote this letter to you. Your Amma was born in 1955, and we all had our own bedrooms. We lived there until 1962 when we were going to need another bedroom for your Great Aunt Denise.

We moved to La Crescenta into a new four-bedroom house in La Crescenta and GPapa continued to do his thing building things and working on DIY projects like a concrete slab next to the house where we roller skated, skateboarded, and after he put up a basketball backboard on the side of the house, played basketball. After a couple of years, we added a pool in the backyard. All three of the kids, Amma, Great Aunt Denise, and I, lived there until we left for our adult lives. It was a fantastic place to grow up with neighborhood friends for all of us.

Around ten years after he finished his career with Pacific Bell Telephone and then working for John Wells Golf shop, GPapa wanted to make a big change. They bought ten acres (a big piece of land) and built a beautiful house on it in Merlin, Oregon. That’s where they lived until they passed away in 2020. Denise had already been living there and that’s when they fell in love with the place. The McBurney family and my family took vacation trips there every year. During our summer visits, we rafted on the Rouge River. I would love to have taken you on a rafting trip. Maybe we can do that someday on some river. They had a cool pool table in the basement, and we played eightball and had a lot of fun at their house. We called it The Oregon White House.

Young GPapa w/ his
mom and dad

GPapa was an only child, no brothers or sisters. That is so unlike how you will be growing up. With a big sister to look after you and share the load when your mom and dad might be upset. GPapa faced it all alone. You will have Addie to listen to you when you are sad, share your happiness when things are bright, and maybe, just maybe, boss you around a little, though I believe she’ll be sweet about it. Love her well and enjoy having her around. Before you know it, she will be heading off to college or pursuing some great career.

And now that I’ve waited so long to write to you, you are already a big brother. Ezekiel Roy is lucky to have you as a big brother; you will be great at the job. GPapa didn’t have big sisters or little brothers, but he did have a younger cousin named James who was like a little brother to him. GPapa looked after James, and they were close enough in age that they played everything together, just like you and Ezekiel will be doing. Look out for Ezekiel and tell him things he needs to know and share with him the stuff you learn about GPapa and GG, and just life as it comes to you guys.

GPapa grew up in a Christian home, and they went to the Gardena Presbyterian Church. He was a Presbyterian for the rest of his life. He loved Jesus, served the church well, and loved people with that strong heart of his. GG and GPapa were two of my adult advisors when I was in Junior High (now they call it Middle School). You will probably learn about Batman and all sorts of superheroes. There was a Batman TV show back in the 1960s that was funny and exciting at the same time, very much like the comic books that Batman starred in in 1939. At one of our Junior High snow camps, GPapa came out during a skit the adult leaders put on. He was in a full-on Batman costume and the whole camp broke out cheering and laughing. GPapa was my Batman, and my church friends all called him that for years afterwards.

You don’t need to be like GPapa. Be your own person, as a little boy, a growing boy, a teenager, and a man. I am going to love watching you grow up. You will be a special blend of your mom and dad, Addie, some things you’ll learn from Ezekiel, and then those amazing things about yourself and the world around you that you’ll learn all by yourself. You are an amazing boy.

I tell you this, so you know that GPapa was strong in all things, his heart, mind, and body. His heart was huge, and he hung onto people when they needed it most. He and GG took in people who needed a place to stay and food to eat. My friends felt like they had a bonus set of parents. It is easy for me to imagine that your mom and dad will be the same. Your friends will find a safe place to play and be comfortable in. Your house will be warm with love and light, and those things will outweigh the hard times.

And so, my young great-nephew, live well, love deeply, and be strong in your heart, mind, and body.

In His grip,

Your great-uncle Jerry

PS: maybe when you get a little order, I can share what ‘In His grip’ means to me. Peace.

GPapa had a nickname for everyone, mine was ‘Stick’. His inscription on my red-tail reads, “For Stick. Together in His grip. Dad 10-24-2005.

More Photos:

Great-great Grandpa and Great-great Aunt Katherine's wedding day.
Great Uncle Jerry, GPapa, GGG White, GGA Katherine, Amma, Great-aunt Denise, and GG

GPapa's First Five with Amma, Great Aunt Denise
GG, GPapa, Great Uncle Jerry

McBurney Family at the Oregon White House with
Cousin Ann and her husband Rich, Uncle Brad, Amma, 
your dad in the middle, Uncle Jeff, Great Aunt Denise, GPapa, and GG

Dear Mattingly

 

Dear Mattingly,

My letter to you is long overdue. I wanted to write it as soon as I heard your name, Mattingly May McBurney. Mattingly has an interesting history, and I would like to tell you some of it to give you a sense of your own history.

I think it’s best if I start way at the beginning of the Mattingly history for our family. Back in 1902 a man named John Arthur Mattingly married Laura Farmer and they adopted my grandfather whose name became Philip Simeon Mattingly. I believe that Laura Farmer brought Philip into her marriage and is his birth mother, though I haven’t found any documentation to prove it. Maybe I’ll get lucky someday.

Grandpa Matt by Bass Lake

Philip Mattingly is your great-great-grandfather. I called him Grandpa Matt and that’s how I’ll refer to him in the rest of my letter. Grandpa Matt married Vivian Irene Johnson in or around 1924 (I should be able to find the date). She is your great-great-grandmother and my Grandma Matt. They had two children together, my Uncle Johnny Mattingly and my mother Betty Jean Mattingly. They were the two youngest of Grandma Matt’s four children. The other two, my Aunt Helen and Uncle Bill, were adopted by Grandpa Matt and they took his name.

Grandpa Matt is an interesting character in our family history, a mystery to us in a lot of ways. First is the fact that I haven’t found out anything about his birth parents, nor have I seen anything about his formal adoption by John and Laura Mattingly. I think that he had only a few years of schooling as boy. He was born on April 5, 1898, a long time ago, and back then school wasn’t always the first thing kids did.

When he was a young man, Grandpa Matt was a Merchant Marine on a ship with three masts and sails, no engines. He sailed all around and worked on the ship helping it go places and pick up things to take to another place, like lumber from America to Australia. One time his ship was in a typhoon and was damaged so badly that they had to spend two years in Australia to fix the ship before they could come home. He got married there, but his wife didn’t want to come to the United States with him and she stayed in Australia. This is another mystery to us.

Bass Lake House 1983

He was a fireman in Fresno, California and was the Fire Chief’s driver and right-hand-man. One day, the Chief had Grandpa Matt run into a burning building to save someone and he did, but Grandpa Matt breathed in some bad stuff into his lungs and got sick. Eventuly, the doctors told him that he needed to move to the mountains to be able to breathe better and live longer, though they told him it would be only a couple of years. He and Grandma Matt lived at Bass Lake for another 40 years or so. Grandpa Matt was one tough guy. 

He wrote short articles for the local newspaper, worked as the assistant Postmaster at Wishon, Bass Lake, he worked at McDougald’s (also where the post office was), now called Miller’s Landing. McDougald’s had rental boats, gas pumps for cars and boats, a general store, and soda fountain where he would buy me banana splits when I was a little boy. Grandpa Matt and I were close, I think because my mom, your great-grandmother whom you would call GG, was his baby girl, and she brought me to the Bass Lake house to live for the first few months after I was born.

Grandpa Matt taught me things. One thing I remember very well was when he and Grandma Matt were visiting us in La Crescenta when I was a young teenager. GG and GPapa (this is what my dad’s great-grandchildren call him) decided that I needed to sweep out the garage. I didn’t want to, so I was out there sulking around and moving dirt from one place to another when Grandpa Matt came out. He had this gruff voice, and when he saw what I was doing he said, “That’s no way to sweep a garage. Gimme that broom”. He proceeded to show that I needed to start at one corner and work my way across the whole back of the garage, then move it all toward the front, and then into one pile in the middle. Of course, after he’d gotten it started, he had me do the sweeping. He told me it was faster and better than just moving dirt around. And he also told me that it was better not to sulk when I had something I had to do. “Just do it and get the job done. You’ll be happier.”

When I was old enough, and whenever we visited them at the lake, one of my jobs to help with the property was to rake the pine needles in the yard, and it was big yard. On our next visit to the lake after Grandpa Matt taught me about sweeping, I raked the pine needles the same way he showed me about sweeping. When he came out and saw how I was doing it, he looked me in the eye and gave me a nod. He was proud that I’d learned and I was happy to do the raking. I applied that sort of thinking to a lot of things throughout my life after that.

GG & GPapa w/ Amma, your dad,
Uncle Nick,  Uncle Jeff,
and Aunt Kaylynn

Betty Jean Mattingly is your most direct connection to your first name. She is your dad’s grandmother, and he called her Gramsy. As I said, all Gramsy’s great-grandchildren call her GG. She was born in Fresno, California and raised at Bass Lake, California. She grew up in a small, converted one-room schoolhouse that Grandpa Matt got permission from the U.S. Forest Service to fix up and use for their home. Your GG loved Bass Lake and the cabin in the woods. She swam and had the most beautiful swim stroke you can imagine.

GG's and GPapa's Navy Portraits

GG enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1951 and was eventually stationed at Naval Base Seatle in the state of Washington. That is where she met your great-grandfather, Russell Jay White. He is called Papa by your dad and like I said,  GPapa by his great-grandchildren. Your cousin, Russell Strong McBurney, is named after him. GG and GPapa met at the Recreation Center on the Naval Base, where GPapa worked and where GG loved to swim. I have an old base swim meet schedule showing GG listed for several events. I imagine she won them all.

Wedding Day with Grandpa and
Grandma Matt, GG and GPapa,
and Grandma and Grandpa White

GG and GPapa got married on June 1, 1952, in the Chapel at Naval Base, Seatle, by the base Chaplin. GG became Betty Jean White, which is where your Amma got her maiden name. GG continued in the US Navy until she became pregnant with me early in 1953. She had to leave the US Navy because in those days they did not have a way to have expectant mothers continue to serve. 

I was born on October 24, 1953, at Santa Monica Hospital in California. GPapa was away at sea on the USS Point Cruz, an aircraft carrier. He was part of the Korean War towards the end, and he didn’t see me or GG again until I was over six months old. After I was born, GG took me to Bass Lake to live with Grandpa and Grandma Matt. She had me sleep in a drawer of her dresser.

After GPapa came back from the war and got out of the US Navy, he and GG lived on Torrence, California, not too far from where he grew up in Gardena with your great-great-grandparents, Florence and Albert White. Your Amma was born on December 5, 1955, and came home to the house we lived in until 1963 when we moved to La Crescenta, California.

That is sort of the timeline and the route taken for you to be named Mattingly. But it is only part of the story, so I’m going to tell you more about your GG, the woman your parents named you for.

Grandpa Matt, the first blood-relative with the Mattingly name, was gruff, like I said. He grew up during hard times. Being a teenager during World War I made life difficult even though he was not a soldier. He did hard work for a living and wasn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty. He loved taking photographs and making 8mm movies. Someday your dad can show you some of them. He loved Grandma Matt and their four children. He was proud of who they became. His boys both fought in World War II and had families of their own. He knew how to make the most out of the little they had and they loved living at Bass Lake.

Betty Jean Mattingly
Senior Picture - 1947

GG was an amazing person. The Mattingly family was not rich by any means. The little house they lived in at Bass Lake had three bedrooms for the six people. Grandpa Matt had added the bedrooms and a kitchen to the one-room schoolhouse. It wasn’t until the 1950s when they added a bathroom with running water and it was the only room with wooden doors inside the house. The other rooms had heavy curtains instead of doors which helped the heat from the wood-burning stove get into all the rooms. 

GG felt most comfortable
in a swimsuit. She would have
made a great model at car shows

GG’s love of swimming, hiking, and being outdoors all started there at the lake and her kids love those things too. GG went to Sierra High School and graduated in 1948? I’ll check that for you. Eventually, GG and GPapa added a swimming pool to the house in La Crescenta. 

GG learned to keep financial books for various companies she worked for. A lumber company in Fresno, California when she moved out from her parents’ house, then in the US Navy, Verberg Dairy in Torrence, and John Wells Golf Shop in Pasadena, California.

GG, her good friend, Carol Murphey, and two or three other ladies in the La Crescenta Presbyterian Church started the Center for Children, a preschool. They worked long and hard, raised money, designed the program, and learned to be pre-school teachers and directors. It was a huge accomplishment, and the center is still active today serving little kids and their families. I’m very proud of what your GG did. All her children worked there at one time or another. Your great-aunt Cindy worked there. All our kids went to the school and later worked there. Your Aunt Lauren married Taylor Chambers, the grandson of Carol Murphey, and he went there and worked there.  You can see how big the Center for Children is in our family history.

I told you about a few of the things she did, but the person she was is what drove her to do those things and more. She and GPapa were my junior high youth group (MUCKs – Most Unruly Church Kids) adult advisors, and GG kept doing that for twenty years or more. She encouraged me to help her with MUCKs when I was a 17-year-old, and I’ve been doing youth ministry for most of the last 50 years. She was kind, loving, tough, and fun-loving. She loved all her kids, grandkids, and great grands. The most important thing about her, that made all the work she did, and all the loving she did, is that she loved Jesus, and served him and his people well.

GG was adventurous and tried new things. She loved learning about new things and figuring out the best way to do them. She loved serving people in her community and did that until her health got bad and her need to take care of GPapa grew so big that she had to stop.

Okay, I must go back bit and share a funny thing about GG. When I was growing up, GG used to leave Amma, Great-aunt Denise, and me notes when we left something undone or not done right around the house. She signed the notes, “TOG” which stands for Tough Old Goat. That’s your namesake.

We met for the first time yesterday, November 28, 2025, at Amma’s house for a big Thanksgiving dinner and already I can see some of the Mattingly traits in you. You are adventurous and want to explore things, what you see you want to touch and know about. You don’t seem to be afraid to try to look closer at things you come across. This might drive your mom and dad a little crazy because they want to keep you safe from getting hurt. It’s a big world with big things and us little people need to be careful. Don’t get too frustrated with them while they keep you safe.

You don’t appear to be shy, especially once you get used to someone new. You are not afraid to play hide and seek with anyone if your mom or dad are holding you. You are good at hide-and-seek, but you don’t mind looking people in the eye.

And now we are on Day 2 of the cruise celebrating your Amma’s 70^th birthday. There is so much for you to see and take in. So many people in one place at the same time, eating, talking, and playing while you take it all in. It is hard for me to imagine what it all seems like for you when an old man like me, gets a little overwhelmed, what could it be for a little person like you? I think you are taking it in wonderfully.

Bottom to top: Mattingly,
Avilyn, Emmitt, Bryce, 
Conner, and Logan

You were able to meet many of your cousins of one sort or another. By that I mean first cousins like Conner, Bryce, and Avilyn and then second cousins like Emmitt, Becca, and Logan. Second cousins are your mom’s or dad’s cousin’s kids. Don’t worry, cousins are cousins and I still don’t get it strait all the time and I’m an old man. 

Mattingly and Amma

Your grandmother is a cool blend of GG and GPapa. She is smart and academic when it comes to learning things, just like her dad. GG was tenacious about learning anything and worked hard at mastering each subject, sport, or activity. Amma is like that too. I think you will be like GG and Amma and that you will learn and love learning and love being good at what you learn. 

Your dad gives of himself in all he does with his family, friends, work, and play. When you need him, you can count on him. He has a big heart and knows how to love well. And he is unconditionally in love with you.

Your mom is inciteful, smart, kind, creative, and beautiful. Like your dad, she loves you unconditionally. Her humor makes me smile all the time.

One of the biggest thrills and honors of my life was being the officiant for the wedding of your mom and dad. When the two of them got married it renewed my hope for your dad’s future and made me grateful that your mom would be part of our family.

As much as I know that you will be a blend of all these people, your ancestors, I know that you will take on new ways of looking at the world and new ways of doing things and loving people, and that you will be your own person. I am already enjoying seeing you grow up with loving parents and grandparents surrounding you. I can’t wait to see the next little facet of who you become.

My hopes for you are that you continue to know a loving mother and father, and loving grandparents, that you will find the excellent Mattingly May McBurney and you will be at peace with who you are and how much you mean to the people who are around you.

Love,

 

Your great-uncle Jerry

Matting May McBurney Family Tree - Father's Side:

 

Beloved, You've Got Mail

 

Beloved, You’ve Got Mail

I have a confession to make. I’ve read your mail, and what’s more, I don’t feel sorry, not in the least. My mom told me that it’s wrong to read mail addressed to others, and that’s why I feel the need to confess. Though I think by the end of this post, she may give me some heavenly forgiveness. She’s pretty good like that.

Paul, once known as Saul of Tarsus, wrote most of the letters to you that I read. When I think about it, though, all the epistles, and by extension, the Gospels and Revelation, were addressed to you as well. Aw, let’s face it, the entire Old Testament linked up with the New Testament is one big love letter from God, penned by others, driven by the Holy Spirit, and sent to you.

I know these writings are yours because, somewhere in many of them, there are salutations where you are named:

Romans 12:19, “Beloved, never avenge yourselves…”

I Corinthians 10:14, “Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry.”

Philippians 4:12, “Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed…

II Corinthians 7:1, “Since we have these promises, beloved…”

Hebrews 6:9, “Though we speak in this way, yet in your case, beloved, we feel sure of better things…”

James 1:19, “Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers.”

I Peter 2:11, “Beloved, I urge you as sojourners, and exiles…”

1 John 3:2, “Beloved, we are God’s children now…”

You are God’s beloved; these and more are addressed specifically to you. They are yours to open.

This part might get a little dicey, and you should convince yourselves not to use this information for personal gain of a lowbrow nature, especially teenagers who might be reading this post.

My friend Webster tells me that beloved means “dearly loved: dear to the heart”. Trust me on this, that ‘dearly’ part is no little thing. Jesus dearly paid the price for us to be in a condition to be beloved.

The Song of Solomon, considered by many as erotic poetry, is full of beloveds exchanging compliments and entreaties.

Married couples, think about the effect you would have on your spouse if you addressed them as ‘beloved’ when you started an apology with the assurance that the apology was genuine and that your path for atonement is true. Instant forgiveness. Need a hug? Making the apology with "beloved" and hugs wouldn’t be enough.

To dating couples who are about to propose marriage, address the object of your affection with ‘beloved’ if you want a near guarantee of a yes in response. The ring will be icing and the wedding planning will flow with a unity rarely seen on reality TV. Go for it.

God used the term beloved regarding His own Son, Jesus Christ, when he said in the Gospel of Mark 1:11, “And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my beloved Son, with you I am well pleased.’” For the authors of the Bible to use beloved while addressing us is to place us in the most-loved-people category.

I am certain these letters, neatly packed into a big book, are addressed to you. Open them. Read them. Be beloved.

As for me? I believe Mom will be okay with me opening your mail as often as I like and every day that I can. And, I will.

In His grip,

jjwhite

The Gene R. Mauk Effect

 

I have known Gene Mauk for around 51 years. Knowing Gene for that length of time, I am bound to have been influenced by him, especially when 96% of that time has been spent as an in-law. Some of Gene inevitably rubbed off on me, and I believe that because of his impact, I am a better man.

The great love he has for Jan, his wife, and his four children, Cindy (Cynthia), Steve (Stephen), Rob (Robert), and John (John) worked wonders in making me a better husband and father.

Gene’s attention to detail showed in restoring his beloved 1930 Ford Model A made me a better woodworker on my various little projects and a better mechanic on our various vehicles.

Gene’s passion for hiking and mountain climbing, and his focus on the many lists for these and other pursuits, including seeing total eclipses, overnighting in all 50 states, and others, inspire me to be aspirational. I’ve created a list based on the trifold, “City of Glendale Trails and Fire Roads”, which I found in Gene’s office. I am hiking them to honor my Father-in-law.

Jan and Gene both valued education and were awarded college degrees. Jan demonstrated this by investing in the PTA and serving on the board for several years in various capacities, including as President. She also worked in libraries serving children at the heart of education. Gene manifested his value of education in the drive for his degree by working a full-time job and being a father while attaining his degree from California State Los Angeles.

The effect was that all four of their children attained four-year degrees. Rob earned a PhD in Molecular Biology. Cindy received an AA at Glendale Junior College, then completed Nursing School through Pasadena City College, and followed those up years later with a bachelor’s degree in Psychology, leading to her receiving master’s degrees and a Doctorate in Psychology from Fuller Theological Seminary. All three of Cindy’s and my children received degrees. I am thankful that Gene and Jan set the bar high. They probably would have locked Cindy away from me had I not earned my degree before we got married.

The Gene Mauk effect reached across generations. He loved being a grandfather and getting involved whenever he could with whatever his grandchildren and great-grandchildren were doing.

The Grand Effect:

From Ashley Cornelius:

List of how I think grandpa has affected my life:

- love of nature and outdoors

- love of experiencing new places and learning about them

- knowing the value of family

- being responsible

 

(In these four bullet items, I found volumes of Gene’s effect on my kids and their lives. I am grateful to him for the affection he showed us all.)

 

From Trevor Mauk:

 

Anyone who knew my grandfather (Papa) would agree that his sense of adventure and admiration of the world's beauty is contagious. I've thought about a couple of ways he has affected me throughout my life, and how I can carry on Papa's legacy through my own mindset and actions.

 

Ingenuity and Curiosity: I recently asked Papa to confirm this story during one of my recent visits because I find it incredible, especially through the lens of our modern information era. When he was a teenager, Papa was passionate about astronomy and set out to build a telescope. Using only books he checked out from his local library, he constructed a large, fully functioning telescope; this included machining various mirrors and lenses and repurposing industrial pipe to act as the telescope body. Incredibly, though unsurprising considering Papa's grit, he got it to work. This was the same telescope I viewed stars and planets through in the La Crescenta backyard when I was a young boy. 

 

I think this is a wonderful example of how Papa lived his life with curiosity and the discipline to understand how the world works—a burning desire to understand the beauty and complexity of the universe, and a relentless determination to take a 'peek under the hood' at how it functioned. I try to carry this same spirit as I move through life, whether it's understanding how the latest car engine functions or how a snippet of code powers a web app. He taught me there is joy in understanding the details of the world.

 

Adventure and Beauty: Anyone who knows (or even knows of) Papa will know he has an incredibly adventurous spirit. I am grateful for the breathtaking hikes, camping, and summits he pushed us to tackle during our winter and summer camping trips. I find more and more of this in myself, especially as I grow older. I've begun to go on weekly hikes, challenging myself to achieve new distance/elevation personal records and seek out new beautiful places. This has allowed me to connect with the beauty of the world and myself in unique ways that I'm doubtful I'd be able to find within other areas of my life. I'm grateful for Papa's inspiration, which has pushed me to seek out natural beauty and appreciate the details in my environment.

 

I'd be hard-pressed not to mention how Papa kept this adventurous spirit going up until the very, very end. Not everyone can say they completed a 14-mile alpine hike with their grandfather in their 90s. Papa's ability to carry this mental and physical strength late into life has encouraged me to take care of myself so that I can do the same—and has made me look forward to the later years in life knowing I can still find joy and adventure in the outdoors with great company.

From Riley Mauk:

 

My grandfather, or "Poppy," as I would come to know him during the first 28 years of my life, is nothing short of remarkable in terms of the life he lived and the impact it had on me.

 

He was always there, from my earliest memories of celebrating annual holidays and family birthdays at his house to going to my basketball games and school activities. He never missed anything in the world. I am very grateful for his presence throughout my life, as it instilled the importance of family in me at a young age.

 

His sense of adventure runs in the family, and I witnessed it firsthand from my early memories of backpacking in the Sierras to our desert trips exploring old, abandoned ghost towns. I'm so fortunate that I was able to share these experiences with my grandfather, like hiking along the PCT with him in the Sierras and Cascades.

 

One of my fondest memories was when he stood at the trailhead of Whitney Portal to congratulate me (and the rest of the team) on successfully reaching the peak earlier that day.

 

My grandfather affected my life in a number of ways, most notably: the foundation and importance of family, his love of the Sierras, and the State of California, as well as the Los Angeles area, and the passion for traveling and exploring new places.

From Lauren Chambers:

My Grandpa, Gene Mauk, was always a loving presence in my life.  But as a child and growing up, I always gravitated towards Nana.  After Nana’s stroke and she was living at Oak Park Healthcare Center, I spent many mornings or afternoons visiting Nana.  Sometimes the visits had numerous people there, and sometimes it was just Grandpa and me.  I got to know my Grandpa in a whole new way and grew a deeper relationship with him.  For me, this was the bright silver lining of the dark cloud of my Nana’s stroke.     This relationship ultimately led to my daughter being named Becca Gene.  I hope the “Gene Mauk effect” will continue by passing down their stories and acting in kind, loving, and thoughtful ways. 

From Daniel White:

In the mountains and the night sky, in an overture of classical music, I am with my Grandpa. Grandpa’s relationship with these elements has forever affected mine.

By far, the most epic backpacking journey of my life was a trip I took with just me and him - 75 miles of the PCT in 10 days, from Sonora Pass to Tuolumne Meadows. We all know of Grandpa’s meticulous planning and tracking with lists, but what I remember most about that journey was simply his joy of being in his element up in the Sierras. One day in particular was a difficult hike, up the side of a deep valley, reaching the apex, only to look across another valley we were to traverse before dark. Every time I reached a peak, I would wait for a few minutes for him to catch up, and every time he caught up, a huge grin from ear to ear, showing both his satisfaction of overcoming and pure wonderment at nature’s marvel. Another day, while we took our lunch break, we decided we would try to camp out by a lake a little off the trail instead of the designated campsite. We had so much fun just locating this lake we found on the map. We reached the point in the trail where we calculated the lake to be, got our compasses out, and headed directly into the dense forest. And we ran right into it, it turned out to be little more than a pond, but he took so much delight in our successful diversion from the plan and finding a place a little less travelled.

He also affected me in my appreciation of the sky. As you can imagine, we spent a fair amount of time looking up at the cosmos on our trips while we sat by our humble campfires and pondered our place in the universe. I also admired his dedication in building his own telescope and the way he took great pleasure in capturing views of other worlds so far away. I often think about those times still, when I stargaze today.

I also have a greater appreciation for classical music because of Grandpa. We would listen to classical music on our long drives to the trailheads. I then started mixing some into my rotation of alternative, grunge, punk, and ska. He would sometimes test me if I knew the composer of a song that came on and he would look so full of pride when I would get one right occasionally. I remember he asked the question at a family party one time, and I was the only one who got it right - Vivaldi, if memory serves me right - and I felt a great sense of pride as I saw how happy Grandpa was that I had gotten it right.

So no big thing, Grandpa only affected me by teaching me to appreciate the mountains, the sky, and the sound of music.