The Story of Dick and Dorothy…and Lee

His name was Lee.  He was a quiet man.

He was friendly enough – just not terribly outgoing.

He wasn’t the sort of person who would call attention to himself.

Lee lived across the street from Dick and Dorothy.

Like Lee, Dick and Dorothy didn’t socialize much – not at all in fact.

And their house was quiet – their house was really quiet!  You see, Dick and Dorothy hadn’t spoken to one another in years.  Their only child, Susan, was grown and gone.  Back in those days, divorces were extremely rare.  You lived together “till death do us part” – even if the differences were irreconcilable and the hostile silence was deafening.

Dick and Dorothy had a dog named Trixie.  It was obvious if Trixie needed water.  What was not so obvious was whether or not Trixie had been fed.  So Dick and Dorothy had silently devised a system to clarify this matter without having to speak to one another.   If you fed Trixie, you placed her bowlful of food in a different location in the kitchen than it had been previously.

Dick and Dorothy and Trixie may have invented the progressive dinner.

During January of 1967, there was a terrible blizzard.  Every weekday Dick commuted to and from Chicago – 26 miles one way – and by the time he got home at 6:00 p.m., his driveway was filled with almost two feet of drifted snow!  The car never made it up the gentle grade to the garage.  In fact, it barely made it into the driveway.  The rear end of the car was a traffic hazard in the street.

Lee was watching from his cozy living room as Dick trudged to his garage to fetch a snow shovel.  So Lee did what any good neighbor would do.  He bundled up, grabbed his own shovel, and headed across the street to help his friend.  The wind was howling and the snow was still coming down.

It took them 45 minutes to get Dick’s car to the garage.  After thanking Lee profusely for his help, Dick invited his neighbor into the kitchen to get warm over a cup of coffee.  Dorothy joined them at the kitchen table.

At first, the conversation was awkward.  Lee knew the dynamics of this dysfunctional household.  Dick made a comment.  Lee replied.  Dorothy made a comment.  Lee replied.  This went on for a while.

But then – something happened.  Something changed.  Dorothy made a comment.  And DICK REPLIED.  Then, DOROTHY REPLIED.  Lee had the good sense – or perhaps the divine wisdom – to keep his mouth shut and just wait and see what would happen next.

That was the beginning for Dick and Dorothy.  They began to talk.  They started communicating with one another in other ways than by moving the dog dish.  The healing began. The relationship was renewed.

Lee was the catalyst.  Where there had been hatred – Lee sowed the seed of love.

Lee wasn’t an outspoken champion of peace and justice and reconciliation.

Maybe Lee was just at the right place at the right time.

Was Lee an angel?  Dick and Dorothy’s daughter, Susan, will tell you he was.

I think he was too.  I know I’m proud of him.  Lee was my father.

– Harry Lee Strong, Pastor, United Church of the San Juans in Ridgeway, CO, January 3, 2013. Harry is a dear friend and former classmate, McCormick Theological Seminary Class of ’67. Like frequent contributor Steve Shoemaker, Harry is one of six former classmates who gather annually for a week of fellowship and reflection.