Björklunden Memories—Old and New

Readers continue to share their special Björklunden memories. For this issue there are three wonderful stories that tell special experiences from the past and also as recently as this last summer. Please enjoy and consider sharing your own special memories by sending them to Teke O’Reilly at teke.oreilly@lawrence.edu. 

A Summer Ritual: Reflections from a Seminar Enthusiast

By Kathy Ramer Bourne '57

It’s the unique quality of experiences that has made traveling to Björklunden a “must do” each summer. Treasured memories of exemplary teachers who were so stimulating that it was sometimes difficult to break for lunch. 

My first classes were Dale Duesing’s opera classes. Residents filled the lodge for the week he was there each summer,  and their numbers were boosted by commuters. One learned to enroll as soon as class registration opened or else miss the opportunity. Vail Hall was filled as participants listened to music and enjoyed Dale’s anecdotes about singing with major opera stars of the twentieth century. As newcomers to the Björklunden seminars, we were in awe of the experience. 

Later, I spent several summers in a week’s class with Jane Schulenburg learning more about medieval history. Her knowledge was deep and broad and presentations combined lectures, constant visuals and valued handouts. The notebooks from Jane’s classes and several shelves of books she recommended are still providing information and pleasure. We shared a love of embroidery and its meaning in the lives of women throughout history. 

Music and medieval studies had been interests since my high school days. However, it was from curiosity and lack of understanding of a culture different from mine that led me to take a class from Peter Thomas, reading a book of short stories by Russian authors. The class was small and enthusiastic, reading closely and discussing deeply. For me, it exemplified what I call the liberal arts mode of inquiry and my brain caught fire. Book shelves filled rapidly. There are a number of us from that first class who return each summer for another deep dive into reading and, more recently, the related films. Each year we benefit from Peter’s love of and enthusiasm for Russian literature and his delight in sharing his insights. 

As I leave each summer, I look forward to returning for the friendships, life expanding stimulation and the “soul food” of the beautiful forest by the lake.

Stepping Into the Seminar Circle: Reflections from a First-Timer

By Kay Knudsen Esposito '70

For too many years, family commitments kept me from attending any of the tempting offerings at Björklunden. But this past July, when I was finally able (and with the gentle prodding of my college roommate, Sue Pappas – LU’69), I signed up for the Door Four seminar. And I will be forever grateful for the experience. 

The four plays we saw at Door County theatres were thrilling and engaging. And our fabulous leader, Dan Klarer, not only prepared us before each performance, but the next day, led us – skillfully, carefully, intelligently, and respectfully - through a critique of what we had seen. Though theatre has been a lifelong hobby for me (some sixty years on stage, backstage, in the audience), others in our class came from many different backgrounds, careers, and theatre experiences. Dan not only encouraged us to share our thoughts, but wove all our insights together, giving us a deeper and richer understanding of each play. 

But there is an added bonus outside of the classroom, and that is in the “cross-pollination” from other seminars. All participants would meet for lunch (gourmet, I might add) when class was over. And we could share stories, ideas, and curiosities about the other seminars. The net result of those conversations, coupled with the way Dan included everyone in our critiques, is that I know I would feel comfortable taking a seminar in any subject about which I knew little, just so long as it interested me. A painting class next year or exploring medieval history, perhaps something else. I was exhilarated by my first seminar experience and eager to do it again!

A Midsummer Memory

By Paul McComas '83

1978: At 16, I played Demetrius in a high-school production of A Midsummer Night's Dream. I didn't really understand the part -- nor, fully, the play -- till I studied it at Lawrence three years later with Prof. Ben Schneider.

 2023-24: I taught one Bjorklunden Shakespeare-seminar apiece for two years: "Best of the Bard: Shakespeare's Greatest Hits," then "Romeo and Juliet: 'Such Sweet Sorrow' -- and So Much More."

 What happened in between is downright supernatural.

 2008: That July, I arrived at Bjork to teach fiction writing and found that Door Shakespeare was tackling Midsummer. My then-fiancee and I nabbed a pair of front-row-center seats smack-dab in the "Athenian woods" and proceeded, on one perfect midsummer night, to thoroughly enjoy a terrific production of our favorite Bard comedy ...

... But the course of live theatre, much like that of true love, "never does run smooth." Fairly late in the play, when Bottom went missing from the troupe of "rude mechanicals" (his identity having been magically, as it were, re-ass-igned), the remaining Athenian-workmen-cum-thespians literally pulled onto the stage one unsuspecting audience member to fill in at their absurd "rehearsal."

Bjork's then-Director Mark Breseman may have been responsible for their choosing me ... or maybe it was just dumb luck; Mark has neither confirmed nor denied, and I doubt he ever will. Perhaps that's for the best, for there seemed to be a kind of magic at work: a shimmering, fairy-dust spell of sheer terror! Over decades of acting, both before that night and since, I've never suffered from stage fright -- but being pressed into performance instantaneously with no advance notice whatsoever was terrifying! "Surreal" understates the sensation; it truly felt, on that midsummer night, as if I were in a dream. Or perhaps on ketamine.

"Perform, sirrah!" Quince the carpenter commanded, as this brave new world swirled 'round my way-past-distracted globe.

I'm no improv comedian; not a line of dialogue, nor even a word, came to mind. Instead -- reaching back to the swinging '70s, aka my "Demetrius days" (when, as you'll recall, this serpentine tale began) -- I mutely assayed a couple of old-school disco moves. Win-win: (a) the audience roared, and (b) the rude  mechanicals seized my anachronistic dance steps as their quite valid rationale for returning me to the seat whence they had dragged me, some 30 or so very long seconds before.

I'd like to think ol' Will would've approved. My fiancee, at least, must have: two months later, Heather went ahead and married me anyway.