‘Stories shape us and the world we shape’

Editor’s note: Dr. Ann Boaden ’67, who taught classes in English and creative writing at Augustana from 1970-2015 and wrote the book “Light and Leaven: Women Who Shaped Augustana’s First Century,” was invited to share a personal reflection on the college’s historic ninth presidential inauguration. 

It was all about stories. The storied limestone of Old Main, rough gold in midday sun, behind the blue marquee. The lemon-colored flames of the tree rising beside the door. The sky October blue. Images that held stories of those who’d walked these ways generations before.

Stories shape us and the world we shape. And our stories are formed by our education. For Augustana’s ninth president, Andrea Kathryn Talentino, that wasn’t just the academic trope of an inaugural address. It was a force. She — and her hearers — felt it.

As someone who’s been around the college for a long time in various iterations — student, alumna, faculty — I know the authenticity of that force because I’ve known a lot of Augustana stories.

There was the inauguration, 47 years ago, of Dr. Thomas Tredway. The day was much like this one, the event held outdoors on the south lawn, almost directly behind where we were assembled: two historic occasions framed in this “quiet shaded grove,” as Dr. Tredway described the ideal campus. He told stories of people who’d occupied this space during his own years as student and professor: kids who spun Frisbees across the lawn and ideas across tables in the old college union; staff who shared with students the wisdom of their own stories; faculty whose voices in classroom and office are enriched rather than silenced by passing time. Dr. Tredway’s voice is one of them; he’d been my professor.

And there was the 2003 inauguration of Steven Bahls, who turned the crystal of his own varied experiences to illuminate and create Augustana’s story. Each of these three inaugural ceremonies radiated belief in an education that’s not about collecting information or accumulating credits, but about creating, revising and recreating our stories. And using them to help others form their stories. 

So as I sat on my wobbly lawn chair in that cut-glass light and air, I imagined a great cloud of witnesses, those who had gone before, joining the academic procession. I saw and heard again the iconic figures who’d shaped the Augustana I came to love and believe in, and whom I was blessed to know: 

Dr. Conrad Bergendoff ’15, fifth president, globally renowned theologian whose ecumenical perspective opened us to the stories of varied faiths. Snowy-haired and serene, he’d have sat beneath the dais loving this day, its words — and its weather. Our beautiful campus, that lifelong hiker maintained, is part of the way Augustana tells its story.

Dr. Henriette C.K. Naeseth, who chaired the Department of English and the Division of the Humanities for nearly all of her 30-plus-year tenure, a majestic presence. Her wise and gravelly voice convinced us that the great literary texts can expand our world, our selves. And her life exemplified that. Like Whitman, whom she loved, she was large; she contained multitudes.

Dr. Fritiof Fryxell ’22, small, wiry, Einstein-haired, internationally respected geologist and mountaineer, who created Augustana’s geology department despite some ultra-conservative religious opposition. He’d be sitting curled in his chair, head down, listening intently. He loved the natural world, from the delicate, air-thin wildflowers in Blackhawk State Park to the soaring Teton Mountains whose features he described and named. He told us their stories, and in doing so, taught ecology through love.

Dr. Dorothy Parkander ’46, Augustana’s first CASE Illinois Professor of the Year, serious-faced as befits the occasion, her famously radiant smile in temporary abeyance. Teaching writers as diverse as Milton, Chaucer, Austen and Garcia Lorca, she impressed on us the dual necessity of creative freedom and artistic integrity in telling stories. We learned from her how the exact word can exalt to joy, bruise with pain, move to action, and ultimately help us understand better the divine creating Word.

Chaplain Richard Swanson ’54, tall, keen-eyed, gray-bearded, one finger placed thoughtfully against his lips. He showed us the poetry and expansiveness of faith. Walking his world, across campus, the Quad-Cities, and the nation, he dismantled religious and cultural boundaries, to join, enrich, and be enriched by, the stories of all spiritual seekers.

Dean Betsey Brodahl ’44, who lived the elegance of mind and mien she respected. Her tall upright figure would be stilled in graceful attention. She would retain every word and build them into Augustana’s future.

These great figures I’d known and loved wove through President Talentino’s address. And through the stories of masters of ceremonies Angie Mitchum ’08 Sharp and Ryan Jenkins ’18 as they recounted how one mentored student went on to mentor another.

Listening, I thought of my own experience. It was that same pattern of story formed from story. As a first-generation college student from a modest lower-middle-class background, I could hardly envision completing my B.A. degree, let alone receiving a doctorate from The University of Chicago. But, encouraged by my high school English teacher — an Augustana alumna — I applied to her school. And the rest happened.

More important than this undreamed-of professional future, however, is what happened to me internally. The values I revere, find strength from, and aspire to live out, were formed by the Augustana people who helped me write my story — but never dictated it.

Now I watch my former students translate these values into their own lives as pastors, educators, physicians, writers, parents, community builders. In doing so, they have re-taught them to me in new, gracious forms. The narrative circles. The crystal turns.

In one of our oldest stories, Homer’s “Odyssey,” the young woman Nausicaa saves Odysseus from both literal and metaphoric death. She averts his physical starvation. But more, because of her intervention, he’s able to recover from a series of mistakes and failures and rebuild the heroic reputation he has nearly lost. Nausicaa helps him reshape his story. Gratefully he acknowledges, “You, Lady, have given me my life.”

That is what I thought about my own story, there, on that brilliant inauguration day.

You, Augustana, have given me my life.