This is the Life: Going, but not gone

When I sat down to transcribe the tape of my interview for the feature on Pastor Harry Haberstock in this issue I found myself feeling surprising emotional. And then surprised at myself that I felt surprised.

I don’t often tape interviews. As a rule, taping for newspaper stories is just too time-consuming. Interviews tend to go on longer than necessary and transcribing adds time that really shouldn’t be needed. But for feature articles, especially about people whose stories are of special interest, it is a luxury to put down pen and paper, turn on the digital recorder and just have a conversation, complete with eye contact that is difficult when one is taking notes.

Of course I knew of Harry Haberstock long before I actually got to make his acquaintance. I knew he was the pastor of the Redeemer Lutheran Church and, more to the point, he was a hockey referee and linesman. Guys in stripes always stand out in the eyes of a hockey fan. Then, in the late 1980s, I joined the Creston Rotary Club. I can still recall feeling completely gobsmacked when, as club president, Harry awarded me a Rotarian of the Year plaque. By then, he had become a friend, mentor and someone I greatly admired.

A few years later I was honoured to stand before our Rotary club and read a poem I’d written in tribute to the newly minted Dr. Harry Haberstock. Our club was, to a member, proud and somewhat in awe of this man who had devoted seven long years to earn his doctorate.

Later yet, I was thrilled when a local family asked me to create a stained glass window for Redeemer Lutheran Church, a memorial to their beloved mother. The theme was Jesus Knocking at the Door and the window would be placed above the balcony in a location that parishioners might not notice. But I knew the spot would be in Harry’s line of sight as he delivered his weekly sermon and with every score of glass and solder joint I did my best to ensure the window would help to inspire him.

For 10 years Angela and I operated a group home, providing care for several aging men with developmental disabilities. For two who died, we naturally turned to Harry to perform a funeral service. Neither man was a churchgoer and Harry may never have met them, but he delivered eulogies and services worthy of his closest of friends. It was a gift we will never forget.

On occasion, when life has seemed overwhelming and I’ve felt a sense of desperation, I’ve known just who to call. An hour with Harry, who has a remarkable ability to help one see and feel more clearly, and the problems suddenly don’t feel quite so dire.

During our interview, he made mention of a candle flame, then referred to a photo I had given him. It was taken on a sad but moving vigil held downtown when citizens were rallying to save Pioneer Villa. The villa was built because of the dedication of Harry and others like him, and it was heart-wrenching to think it was no longer considered worthy of providing a home to the many who lived there. At one point I held a candle in my hand and took a digital photo with the other. The photo appeared in the Advance and I gave him a copy as a memento of the occasion.

The candle, more specifically the flame, is the perfect symbol for what Harry Haberstock has been, as pastor to not only Redeemer Lutheran Church, but to our entire community for the last 41 years. He has given us more than we could have asked. Pastor. Father. Husband. Friend. Confidante. Marrier. Burier. Hockey player, official and fan. Volunteer. Provider of inspiration. And friend.

I’ll repeat the final words of the poem I wrote for that memorable Rotary meeting:

Mister, Pastor, Reverend, Doctor…You’ll always be Harry to me.

Lorne Eckersley is the publisher of the Creston Valley Advance.

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