Christmas – Room N-9

The Night as Bright as Day!

By Larry Shurilla

I have a Christmas story to tell, retell actually. Growing up, I was always drawn to the wonderful stories surrounding the birth of Jesus: the extreme humility of a manger bed for a King, the desperation of His father, Joseph to find a room for His mother Mary’s labor to begin, guided wise men, earthly shepherds, and the triumphant song of a host of angels. More than magical, to me, these stories were sacred. When I was about 19 years of age, I first heard another story of Christmas. Let me share it with you now. The Night as Bright as Day!

The story begins in the ancient Americas with two distinct factions living on the land: the Nephites-descendants of a man named Nephi, and the Lamanites-descendants of his brother, Laman. The Nephites, generally, were believers in the coming of Christ and the Lamanites, largely, did not. As prophets do, one Samuel, a Lamanite who believed in the impending coming of the Messiah, stood upon a wall and exhorted all wickedness to end and proclaimed for the people to prepare for the coming of the Christ!

Samuel prophesied:

“Behold, I give unto you a sign; for five years more cometh, and behold, then cometh the Son of God to redeem all those who shall believe on his name.

“And behold, this will I give unto you for a sign at the time of his coming; for behold, there shall be great lights in heaven, insomuch that in the night before he cometh there shall be no darkness, insomuch that it shall appear unto man as if it was day.
Therefore, there shall be one day and a night and a day, as if it were one day and there were no night; and this shall be unto you for a sign; for ye shall know of the rising of the sun and also of its setting; therefore they shall know of a surety that there shall be two days and a night; nevertheless the night shall not be darkened; and it shall be the night before he is born.

“And behold, there shall a new star arise, such an one as ye never have beheld; and this also shall be a sign unto you.” (Helaman 14:2-5, The Book of Mormon-Another Testament of Jesus Christ)

It’s not often that a timetable is given for a miracle to happen. To the more wicked and unbelieving factions of the Nephites, from the moment of Samuel’s prophecy onward, the sign clock began to tick.

When the time drew near for this sign to occur or not, the evil faction of the Nephites convinced the government of their day to impose a law on the believers in the coming of Christ:

“ Now it came to pass that there was a day set apart by the unbelievers, that all those who believed in those traditions should be put to death except the sign should come to pass, which had been given by Samuel the prophet.” (3 Nephi 1:9)

Fearing for his people, another prophet, a descendent of the original Nephi, bowed down in mighty prayer all the day long before the mortal law was to be imposed, begging the Lord to save those who so faithfully awaited His coming. The Lord answered Nephi’s prayer:

“Lift up your head and be of good cheer; for behold, the time is at hand, and on this night shall the sign be given, and on the morrow come I into the world, to show unto the world that I will fulfil all that which I have caused to be spoken by the mouth of my holy prophets.” (3 Nephi 1:13)

At the time of the setting of the sun, the glory of the Lord was made manifest and the prophecy of Samuel was fulfilled:

“And it came to pass that the words which came unto Nephi were fulfilled, according as they had been spoken; for behold, at the going down of the sun there was no darkness; and the people began to be astonished because there was no darkness when the night came.

“And there were many, who had not believed the words of the prophets, who fell to the earth and became as if they were dead, for they knew that the great plan of destruction which they had laid for those who believed in the words of the prophets had been frustrated; for the sign which had been given was already at hand.

“And they began to know that the Son of God must shortly appear; yea, in fine, all the people upon the face of the whole earth from the west to the east, both in the land north and in the land south, were so exceedingly astonished that they fell to the earth.
“For they knew that the prophets had testified of these things for many years, and that the sign which had been given was already at hand; and they began to fear because of their iniquity and their unbelief.

“And it came to pass that there was no darkness in all that night, but it was as light as though it was mid-day. And it came to pass that the sun did rise in the morning again, according to its proper order; and they knew that it was the day that the Lord should be born, because of the sign which had been given.

“And it had come to pass, yea, all things, every whit, according to the words of the prophets.

“And it came to pass also that a new star did appear, according to the word.”
(3 Nephi 1:15-21)

A Night as Bright as Day! Could there be a more appropriate sign of the coming of the Son of God to the earth than a night wherein all darkness was dispelled? The baby Jesus brought the light of His Gospel to the earth, to a stable, even as a single candle illuminates a darkened room. His room was now the earth and darkness retreated to the shadows forevermore.

There is my Christmas story. Have you ever heard of it before? A story any member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is well familiar with and holds dear. Could it have really happened? A Night as Bright as Day?! Or is this just another tale of Christmas? I, for one, choose to believe and for me, each Christmas Eve shines ever brighter.

Merry Christmas Friends! May your days be merry and truly bright, as bright as that wonderful night! May the love and light Mary felt when she first gazed into her baby’s eyes shine brightly in you and yours, this Christmas and always.

I Grew Up With A Hero – Part 10

By Larry Shurilla

Red Wing by Jo Stafford with Paul Weston

Permit me to close this chapter of I Grew Up With A Hero with some of the lyrics from Red Wing, the whistled song that rekindled hope in the heart of Stalag Luft I POW, Clair Cline. Some 400,000 American warriors gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country and never returned home from World War II.

But when all the braves returned,
The heart of Red Wing yearned,
For far, far away, her warrior gay,
Fell bravely in the fray.

Now, the moon shines tonight on pretty Red Wing
The breeze is sighing, the night bird’s crying,
For afar ‘neath his star her brave is sleeping,
While Red Wing’s weeping her heart away.

The All Girl Orchestra

By Larry Shurilla

Sometimes our dreams don’t come true. Well, at least sometimes things don’t quite turn out the way we planned, another dream comes along and that’s the life we live. Who’s to say which dream was better? Who’s to say which path was best? Who’s to say.

When we look back at the life we’ve lived, will we see a moment that changed everything? A fork in the road? A path less traveled? Back in the late 1930’s a Cudahy girl with a velvety voice and big band dreams had a choice that made all the difference in the world. At least for me and my siblings it did. That singer was my mom.

When something from 80 years ago reaches out from the past and grabs your heart today, well, that’s something to talk about.

So let’s talk. Here’s the story.

From the mid 1930s through around 1948, Russian immigrant, Phil Spitalny, and his Orchestra crooned the airways of American radio every Sunday night in what was billed, “The Hour of Charm.” What made this particular orchestra so unique was that it was made entirely of women, except for its conductor, Phil, of course. In the no-nonsense talk of the day, Phil once said, “Give me women to work with every time . . . They’re more cooperative and they don’t waste their emotions on much except their music.”

Phil Spitalny’s All Girl Orchestra in 1938

After performing with his all-female orchestra for a time, Phil decided to expand his act and add female singers. He held nationwide auditions and here is where my mom comes in! Having been raised in a musical family in Cudahy, Wisconsin, Ruth Ruddy was blessed with a beautiful, sultry singing voice. I know because growing up I was blessed with lullabies and impromptu singing as she stroked my back at bedtime, put stuffing in the turkey, or was painting portraits and whimsical landscapes in our den. Ruth was such an artist-poet, painter, sculptor and singer. She had it all and a family with six kids, but excuse me for getting ahead of myself. Let’s get back to the late 1930s.

As Ruddy family lore goes, Ruth’s mother, Louise, once had a local radio show somewhere in Wisconsin where much singing and playing was conducted on a hometown scale. The Ruddy house was always a place to hang-out and jam. Even Ruth’s brother Bill went on to become a successful jazz guitarist and play the Milwaukee scene professionally for many years. When Ruth was about 20 years old, she felt the performing itch and went to WTMJ in Milwaukee to make some audition records for Spitalny’s All Girl Orchestra. What I wouldn’t give to hear her sing those big band ballads of the 30’s and 40’s, sung in her prime! Just wait on that one.

Of all the pictures that get lost in the shuffle of life, this one did not. Here’s a picture of Ruth during that very audition at WTMJ.

Phil Spitalny would be considered a hard businessman by today’s standards. Once under contract, he held his performers to a strict and rigid routine, requiring five to six hours of practice a day and the women had to pledge not to leave and get married without giving six months’ notice! I guess it’s kind of hard for us to understand this type of ultimatum in the 21^st Century, but back in the post-World War II, Leave It To Beaver era, most women stayed at home and raised a family. A conductor couldn’t book gigs and radio shows a year in advance with half of his orchestra running down rice coated church steps!

As corroborated by Ruth’s sister, Faye (Ruddy) Campbell, after listening to Ruth’s audition recordings, Spitalny offered Ruth a contract to sing with the All Girl Orchestra! A dream come true! A big stage for a big voice and the opportunity of a lifetime. But there happened to be another offer on the table. You see, a certain Marquette University track star and returned World War II B-17 war hero had also noticed the suave beauty from Cudahy and proposed a life together.

So there it was, the moment in time I was talking about earlier. A moment that determines destiny. Ruth had the offer of a husband and the promise of a family on one hand and Phil Spitalny’s All Girl Orchestra on the other. Ruth was always such a kind, meek, loving woman-my mom. She wasn’t at all like her big sister, Lois, who was gregarious and the life of the party. Lois would’ve grabbed that contract and ran all the way to New York with it. Ruth? No way. She would’ve hated all that attention. Well, that is truly a question that no one but Ruth can answer, but she did make the audition record. And she also said yes to the flyboy-Bob Shurilla, my dad.

So why all the fuss now? Yeah, it’s a good story, but that all happened some 80 years ago. Yes it did, but sometimes the past can reach out and in an instant pull you right back from iphones and Facebook to Philco radios and The Saturday Evening Post.

It was a Friday in August of 2017. My sister, Kim, (actually we all call her “Sissy”) was having dinner at a downtown Milwaukee, Italian restaurant with her husband, Don, when a longtime family friend, Paul “The Kahuna” Finger, ran up to her, pulled Sissy aside and the conversation went something like this:

“Kim! You won’t believe what’s happened? It’s a miracle!”

“What, Kahuna? What’s going on?”

“You know I collect old 78 records, right? Well, I read about this estate sale in Elm Grove from a former TMJ employee and it sounded like there would be a lot of old records. I went to the sale and sure enough there were stacks of old 78s, the metal kind coated with plastic acetate. I flipped through a bunch of them, all without sleeves, and left with a big stack for a couple of bucks. I went home and started listening to them. I must’ve been listening for a couple hours and was kind of sleepy and then it happened! I hear a woman say, ‘My name is Ruth Ruddy and I’m going to sing George Gershwin’s Embraceable You.’ And there it was, Kim! It was your mom, Ruth, singing that song! She also sang another song called, ‘I Love You!’”

Most people knew my mother as Ruth Shurilla. The Kahuna was so close to my brother, Mark, (also a Milwaukee musician) that he knew her maiden name, Ruddy. Sissy was astonished! What are the chances? A stack of old 78s? Listening and hearing, “Ruth Ruddy?” Knowing who that was? The odds of this happening are astronomical, but it seems if a message is meant to get through, it gets through.

Not long after their meeting, Kahuna brought the records over to Sissy’s house. He just so happened to bring the records on the day of a family reunion. Picture the scene. Faye, the oldest living member of the Ruddy family was there in Sissy’s backyard, along with Ruth’s other children, Kevin, Danny, Shawn, Larry and their spouses, Rosebud, Janet, Linda and Kathy. Faye’s daughters, Colleen and Maureen were there along with two of Ruth’s nieces, Noelle and Neani. You might say it was like one of those gatherings at the old Ruddy house in Cudahy and the jam session was about to begin.

For an acetate recording to survive 80 years is a miracle. For it to be in the middle of a stack of records you just happen to pick up at an estate sale is a miracle. To recognize a voice and a name spoken into a microphone 80 years prior, is a miracle. But the real miracle was about to begin. Here we were, a family gathering of my mother Ruth’s closest surviving relatives, about to hear her sing to us once more.

As Kahuna placed the phonograph needle on the old 78 and the scratchy grooves came alive in the speaker, ever so gently we all heard the beautiful, unmistakably smooth Ruth Ruddy voice warm our hearts once more singing, “Embraceable You.” That was a song Ruth was still singing around the house weeks before she passed at age 90 in 2010.

And now my patiently reading friend, if you’ve made it thus far on this magical musical tour, you deserve to hear the voice you’ve read so much about. Let me introduce to you, Ruth Ruddy. The best singer Phil Spitalny’s All Girl Orchestra almost had and the remarkably talented woman that sang us to sleep many a night and filled our home and childhood with song.

Embraceable You by Ruth Ruddy

After listening to Kahuna play those songs, a tear-filled Sissy hatched a plan to get those fragile recordings into a format that would endure and her family and friends could enjoy forever. As Kim soon learned those old acetate albums were only meant to be played a few times before they would deteriorate into a garbled mess. The race was on to save those recordings!

As fate’s hand continued to reach out to us, Kim’s good friend and neighbor, Ann Hughey, heard the story about the records and how Sissy wanted to give them to her family for Christmas. Ann suggested that her husband, Brandon, (who just so happens to be an avid record collector and has expertise in transferring acetate 78 records into mp3 format), make her some audio CDs for Christmas! Ann told Kim this is precisely the kind of thing that thrills him most in life-to figure out how to and then restore antique recordings to a modern playable format. Could Sissy have ordered a more perfect assistant to make this gift happen?

I won’t go into the extremely delicate song restoration process, but suffice it to say that a hundred things could’ve gone wrong to upset the music permanently, but instead, a hundred things went right. On Christmas Eve, 2018, (Christmas Eve was always the traditional time for Christmas celebrations in Ruth’s home), Brandon walked into Sissy’s house, full of family and friends, and presented her with 12 CDs of Ruth’s two audition recordings with Ruth’s radio picture on the covers! Brandon was introduced to a thunderous applause, the songs were played, and once more Ruth was with us on Christmas Eve like she had been for so many years before. To quote one of my mother’s poems, “They’re closer at Christmas, those dear ghosts from the past…”

Thank you, Kahuna, Brandon, and Sissy for making all this possible. Ruth touched each of you in a special way to bring her voice and message to life.

Permit me the luxury of adapting some words from the great Robert Frost, whom my mother loved so well:

“I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–

I took the one more traveled by

And that has made all the difference.”

For my siblings and I and the entire baby-boomer generation, thank you, Mom Ruth (that’s how she always signed those birthday cards that she never missed). Thank you for using your talents and love to raise us. To help us see the world with an artists’ brush. To feel life like a poet and to hear through your song the melodies of nature. Thank you for tucking that love note in a stack of 80-year-old 78s, neatly placed for us to find while we’re apart for a while. The nation may have had one less Peggy Lee to adore, but your legacy of love has and will affect generations to come. We love you so, Mom Ruth.

Before you go, Mom, could you please sing to us one more time? Just once more, to last till we meet again…

I Love You by Ruth Ruddy

The family gathers to listen to Ruth’s songs.

Brandon Hughey delivers the Christmas CDs

Wonderful

By Larry Shurilla

One of my favorite things to do as a teacher was to bring something into the classroom that would spark the kids’ interest and make them want to learn. Whether it was a model replica of the Wright Brothers’ Flyer, a communicator from Star Trek – The Original Series, or a bubbling beaker of green liquid, these objects had the potential to invoke curiosity in a child. A good object spurs questions, engenders interest, and provides a phenomenon difficult to explain. It makes them want to know why? In a word, it provides, wonder.

Recently, I’ve been pondering the word, Wonder. In a way, I’ve been wondering about wonder. My first thoughts included very basic meanings. Wonder is a fascination, but something more. Wonder is a bewilderment, but it’s brushed with goodness. Wonder is an unanswered question and yet it fills one with awe. Wonder warms the heart and sparks questions: How can this be? What is the true story here? Why am I feeling uplifted? What is it I really see?

We often hear the phrase, “Filled with wonder.” Like light banishing darkness, apparently wonder has the ability to seek and illuminate the empty spaces of the human soul.

When was the last time you were filled with wonder? Perhaps it has been a very long time. Perhaps it happened today. We need only look into the face of a child at Christmas time, to rekindle within ourselves the nature of wonder, but is there something more?

I love to look into the faces of the 3-to-11-year-olds as I teach music to them each Sunday at church. As a matter of fact, I just pulled out a lit tabletop Christmas tree that my friend, Karen, brought for me, that included laminated ornaments with the names of Christmas carols written on the backs! When I had one of the kids plug in the tree and light that baby up, the tree lights were not the only things glowing in the room! That Christmas wonder worked its way to the surface and the kids’ eyes were “all aglow.” I guess they’ll find it hard to sleep tonight!

But wonder is not reserved for children. As a matter of fact, I, myself, have seen much wonder in the world. It may not always be found in twinkling Christmas tree lights, but the examples were to me, shining nonetheless. Let me share just a few recent memories.

Since I’ve retired from teaching, I deliver flowers part time for a reputable Milwaukee florist-since 1901! In my flower journeyings, I have come across the salt of the earth and they have reminded me of the everyday wonders of goodwill toward men.

One day I had a delivery to an elderly black woman living in a dilapidated old house in Milwaukee’s inner city. The house had a huge wooden porch and the buzzer didn’t work, so I knocked hard. Soon a little boy, around 8 or 9, came to the door and I could hear his grandma yell from up the narrow stairway, “Who is it?”

“I’ve got a flower delivery for you!”

“Bring him up, son.”

I followed the boy up the creaky stairs and opened a door into a very congested room. The grandma was sitting on a couch, cane in hand, and graciously accepted the flowers. She thanked me and told the boy to walk me back downstairs to the front door.

In those few minutes in that humble home, I felt the love that grandma had for her grandson and the absolute goodness of that little boy. He was a good boy. An obedient boy. He had respect. He was taking care of his grandmother. As I looked at the sleeping, chained-up St. Bernard in the back of the neighbor’s yard that looked more like a junkyard, I could only wonder, how in this blighted section of a big inner-city, where all we seem to hear about is senseless violence, here in this humble home, was a pocket of love and I’ve seen them all over the city.

Another day I entered an automotive shop on North Avenue. As I was waiting to be served, I noticed 8-10 pencil drawings taped to the shop walls. The drawings were crude, but interesting, animals, ordinary people, nothing special-all drawn on sketchbook paper, ala Napoleon Dynamite. They were all signed by the artist. After I had been served, I asked, Denny, the lead mechanic, what the story was behind all these drawings?

Denny told me there was this one guy that would come around every so often and try to sell a drawing or two. Denny said the guy really looked like he could use some help, so he’d give him about $10 for a drawing to help him out.

There it was again. Wonder. Denny just wanted to help a brother out. He could’ve told that guy to just move on, that he wasn’t interested in any artwork, but something inside Denny told him to love his neighbor. As I left, I noticed the latest drawing up on the walls. Amid the shock absorber and Michelin tire posters, was a hand drawn pencil drawing of Jesus carrying a lost sheep.

Continue with me on this wonder filled journey!

On another occasion, a very disheveled man, who kept talking fast and repeating himself, came into the flower shop and asked for David. When he saw the owner, Dave, he explained how he had this headache that just wouldn’t go away and wondered if Dave had any Ibuprofen. He just wanted a couple tablets, that’s all he needed. Dave knew this man and had helped him out before. This man knew David and knew he could get help here. Dave found some tablets, gave them to the man and he was soon on his way.

It was so pitiful to me, to imagine anyone, walking the streets of Milwaukee and just looking for a place to get some Ibuprofen because he didn’t have access to any and couldn’t afford it. He had no bathroom cabinet just down the hall to get medicine, band aids, toothpaste, etc., but he did have the flower shop, and he knew Dave.

The more I ponder about wonder, the more I am drawn to the Savior and the way He taught us to live. Surely, recalling shepherds gazing into the heavens, seeing and hearing the astonishing proclamation of the angels and then making haste to the City of David to behold the Christ Child fills me with wonder.

The wise men following a brilliant star to a lowly stable in Bethlehem, avoiding the treachery of Herod, finding the Messiah and laying before Him their precious gifts; how miraculous and faithful.

Wise Men, Shepherds, Angels, Stars, these may be the tokens of Christmas wonder we see in a child’s eyes, but as we grow older, we need not lose our wonder and consider faith a childish thing. We need simply look around us with wiser eyes and behold the wonders placed in our paths-the good little boys in the city, the kind mechanics, the caring florists-and realize that once we are led to the Savior, a change stirs within us.

After we too are led to the manger and gaze upon the Christ Child and remember how he cared for the one, how he forgave all, how he blessed the sick, fed the hungry, comforted the lonely, are we not motivated to be more like Him? We each have power to make the world a better place and Jesus so elegantly taught us how.

If you don’t feel very close to God right now or wonder if He really exists, I’ve got an experiment for you this Christmas season. When you’re looking at a nativity or see a reminder of Christ’s birth, Pray to Heavenly Father and ask Him if he’s real? Ask Him to show you He is real in a way you can understand. Tell Him all about your problems and ask for help. Ask Him to help you see His hand in your life. After your prayer, see how you feel. If you get a bit of that wonder you felt as a child, maybe you’re on to something. Maybe you’ve begun a connection with Deity, the kind of Deity that isn’t sitting up on a cloud, endless miles away, but is like a loving friend who can’t wait to hear about your day, one that will never let you down and never give up on you.

I don’t need to travel to North Avenue to see the wonder of humankind. I see it every day as I watch my wife push her aged mother to the bathroom and back, again and again and again. I see it when she combs her mother’s snow-white hair and talks kindly to her. When she asks her if she’s hungry, tired, or in any pain.

I see wonder as I watch my daughter tickle her daughter to death! I see wonder when I watch a parent teach their child how to put money in the Red Kettle of the Salvation Army.

Maybe I need to enhance my understanding of wonder and think of it not only as an unanswered question or a bewildering fascination. Perhaps I should think of wonder as a glimpse at the pure love of Christ, as something that motivates me to be a better person, as an inspiration to be something better than I am.

All these examples are the way Jesus wants us to live, the way He wants us to love. This Christmas, when we see stars in the skies or atop shimmering trees, let us remember to look for the hand of God in our lives and like wise men of old, look where He is leading us to help our brothers and sisters.

Jesus has been called many names: The Prince of Peace, The Messiah, The Great Redeemer, The Lamb of God. It’s no wonder that Isaiah wrote this name first and Handel put it to music, but Jesus is the one who lived it.

And His name shall be called…Wonderful.