So sorry to hear of Art's passing. He was an unusual fellow! He advised me to seek to "live a simple life"--which I have not--and which he did not either!
I am greatful to him for being most gracious to intervene and have my entire college bill wiped out for assisting Dwight with the "purple" hymnal. Rest in peace with your Angel!
During my college years in Big Sandy I never had a chance to meet Art Ferdig but of coarse we all knew who he was at the time, Editor of the Plain Truth.
I believe the first time I ever met Art was when he walked into the Brainerd Minnesota church back in about 1977 and introduced himself. I was honored to meet him of coarse but my natural question was "what brings you up to this part of the woods?". Turns out Art and his wife (a lovely lady I forget her name) had sold all their belongings that wouldn't fit in the 22' UHaul truck he had purchased and moved back to Minnesota.
Art, I was to discover, grew up in one of the most remote parts of the state; Moose Park Township, population about 50 people in 36 square miles, near Blackduck Minnesota. (About 70 miles WSW of the SEP campus at Orr.)
During the next two years, and until I resigned from the ministry, Art and I became good friends. He and his family, I seem to recall they had two children, attended church every week, and from the start I invited him to speak whenever and for however long he chose, lead songs etc etc as well. Which he did several times as he felt led. He needed no introduction to the brethren of coarse once they knew his name. When Art spoke it was with a voice marked with baritone vibrancy and kindness.
Art never told me why he left Pasadena and I didn't ask. We never spoke of the troubles brewing in the church but there was something in our eye contact that knew we were like two ships, flying the same flag, passing on to a new destination. Every time I happen to refer to my leather bound 11th edition of the Britannica I think of Art, who sold it to me for about $50. Again lightenening his load for another journey I now forget where but I new I was saying farwell to one of the finest humans I would ever meet.
By chance, about 10 years later while I was county commissioner of the western part of Itasca County which included Moose Park Township, I got acquainted with all of Art's extended family. Their driveways all about a half mile long through thick stand's of timber. Logging and running a few head of beef in what little open pasture existed was Art's family heritage. Still occasionally visited by real Moose in Moose Park Township, Minnesota.
Andrew Voth (1966)
So sorry to hear of Art's passing. He was an unusual fellow! He advised me to seek to "live a simple life"--which I have not--and which he did not either!
I am greatful to him for being most gracious to intervene and have my entire college bill wiped out for assisting Dwight with the "purple" hymnal. Rest in peace with your Angel!
Andy Voth
Bob Roufs (B S 1966)
During my college years in Big Sandy I never had a chance to meet Art Ferdig but of coarse we all knew who he was at the time, Editor of the Plain Truth.
I believe the first time I ever met Art was when he walked into the Brainerd Minnesota church back in about 1977 and introduced himself. I was honored to meet him of coarse but my natural question was "what brings you up to this part of the woods?". Turns out Art and his wife (a lovely lady I forget her name) had sold all their belongings that wouldn't fit in the 22' UHaul truck he had purchased and moved back to Minnesota.
Art, I was to discover, grew up in one of the most remote parts of the state; Moose Park Township, population about 50 people in 36 square miles, near Blackduck Minnesota. (About 70 miles WSW of the SEP campus at Orr.)
During the next two years, and until I resigned from the ministry, Art and I became good friends. He and his family, I seem to recall they had two children, attended church every week, and from the start I invited him to speak whenever and for however long he chose, lead songs etc etc as well. Which he did several times as he felt led. He needed no introduction to the brethren of coarse once they knew his name. When Art spoke it was with a voice marked with baritone vibrancy and kindness.
Art never told me why he left Pasadena and I didn't ask. We never spoke of the troubles brewing in the church but there was something in our eye contact that knew we were like two ships, flying the same flag, passing on to a new destination. Every time I happen to refer to my leather bound 11th edition of the Britannica I think of Art, who sold it to me for about $50. Again lightenening his load for another journey I now forget where but I new I was saying farwell to one of the finest humans I would ever meet.
By chance, about 10 years later while I was county commissioner of the western part of Itasca County which included Moose Park Township, I got acquainted with all of Art's extended family. Their driveways all about a half mile long through thick stand's of timber. Logging and running a few head of beef in what little open pasture existed was Art's family heritage. Still occasionally visited by real Moose in Moose Park Township, Minnesota.