Man of LaMancha

The DQ Award April 26

Queen Mother she is called by most everyone. I call her Mom. Her birth name is Maxine, though I have never called her by that name or heard anyone call her by that name.. She lives in Raytown, though most often she can be found at her church, Barker Memorial Cathedral of Praise. She has 12 grown children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. She runs a food pantry and a social action committee.

Mom has gone with HateBusters to places across America. She is a people magnet wherever we go. Soon those around are singing and smiling and rejoicing in her presence. Mom was born in Mississippi when times were hard. But the times did not make her hard. They made her strong. And her strength has been freely and widely shared. From Jamaica, where her husband was born, to Minnesota, where his work took the family for years, Mom has organized and encouraged and inspired everybody and everything she touched.

Mom, Queen Mother, Maxine McFarlane has dedicated her considerable talent to raising the consciousness of her community to issues of fairness and justice. Wherever she goes she leaves in her wake a heightened awareness of how fragile and precious is the life we share together as community.

From her life as an activist, Mom understands with Don Quixote that wickedness wears thick armor. And Mom also responds as Don Quixote: “And for that you would have me surrender? Nay, the enchanter may confuse the outcome ten thousand times. Still must a man arise and again do battle, for the effort is sublime.”

HateBusters takes great pleasure in bestowing upon Mom McFarlane our highest honor, the DQ Award, named for Don Quixote, that fictional hero that inspires and fascinates all who read his story or see him on stage.

Given at the Human Family Reunion held on the 26^th day of April in the year 2003 and meeting on the campus of William Jewell College, Time Magazine’s Liberal Arts College of the Year.
He is known as Brother John across Greater Kansas City and beyond. Young children and senior citizens and all folks between have been mesmerized and inspired by his high-energy scene-stealing performances as historical figures with soul-stirring messages. At HateBusters annual Human Family Reunions and all our impromptu gatherings, Brother John leads us in a rousing rendition of our theme song.

Brother John has dedicated his considerable talent to raising the consciousness of his audience to issues of fairness and justice. Wherever he goes he leaves in his wake a heightened awareness of how fragile and precious is the life we share together as community.

From his voracious reading and his careful thinking, Brother John understands with Don Quixote that wickedness wears thick armor. And Brother John also responds as Don Quixote: “And for that you would have me surrender? Nay, the enchanter may confuse the outcome ten thousand times. Still must a man arise and again do battle, for the effort is sublime.”

HateBusters takes great pleasure in bestowing upon John Anderson our highest honor, the DQ Award, named for Don Quixote, that fictional hero that inspires and fascinates all who read his story or see him on stage.

It’s a dark and stormy night as we gather in the chapel named for John Gano, the Revolutionary War chaplain to General George Washington. Streak lightning and booming thunder have kept some away but do not dim the high voltage delivery of Coach Boone. Before the evening is over, we all understand fully how he carried his team to realms of glory.

Some 30 years have passed since Bobbie and I took Debbie, Dave and Brian to the Pella Tulip Festival. They have all since graduated from William Jewell, and Debbie is now a member of the faculty. For weeks Bobbie and I have been planning our second visit to the Tulip Festival. We had planned to be there on the last day of April, but when I heard Coach Boone was coming to Jewell, I talked Bobbie into staying to hear him. We would rush out the minute he finished and drive to Pella that night.

We have hardly reached I-35 when the rain starts. By the time we get to Bethany, windshield wipers are useless against the deluge. Lightning bolts and rumbling thunder and threatening 18-wheelers drive us off the highway and to shelter at a service station for half-an-hour. The rain relents somewhat and we take to the road. We make it to Leon.

Just across the Missouri line, Leon is the first Iowa town we come to. A room in a small motel is our home for the night. The next morning I’m up early to unstrap my bike from the back of my car for a ride around town and biscuits and gravy at a little café near the town square. The motel owner gives us directions by back roads for the two-hour drive on to Pella.

Sonja had emailed to say she and Arlan wouldn’t be home when we arrived. “The door is never locked. Make yourselves at home until we come,” she said. I stayed with the Van Dusesseldorps a few years back when I rode my bike from Kansas City to Pella to speak at their church. “Your room is ready anytime,” they told me then. I’m back. With Bobbie.

Their house is just a few blocks from town. A nice walk for Bobbie. A pleasant ride for me. Pella has majored on its Dutch heritage. A visitor here goes back in time to Holland as it was when the Pella settlers came. A full-size corn-grinding windmill has recently risen near the center of town, its huge rotating blades the talk of all who see it. Smaller windmills dot the town. Picture-perfect red and white and yellow tulips fill gardens and line walks wherever one may look. Facades of all buildings around the square call to mind a village in Holland more than a century ago.

Before time comes for the parade and I am to meet Bobbie, my bicycle takes me quietly about town to take in all the sights and relish the ambiance. Shoeless Joe Jackson’s question from Field of Dreams comes to mind when he asks Ray Kinsela, “Is this heaven.” “This is Iowa,” says Ray. Is there a difference, I’m wondering as I ride.

My Sunday School class from Second Baptist has scheduled a retreat at Conception Abbey this weekend. This place has been on my list of places to visit since I first heard of it more than 30 years ago. It’s little more than a two-hour drive from Liberty, but for some reason, I have never made it here. As best as I can make it out, Conception Abbey sits not more than 50 or 60 miles off I-35, after we pick it up on our drive back to Liberty from Pella. I’ll never be this close again.

Camelot comes to mind when I first spot the Abbey. Surrounded for miles in all directions by farmland, the red brick walls rise majestically and appear rich against the emerging green of early spring. A cathedral quiet pervades the place. My bicycle seems a natural fit.

Highways VV an AH carry me over undulating hills for miles. Few cars pass. Houses are few and far from the road. No dogs bark. All is quiet. And serene. And peaceful beyond description.