Renate Goepp

Wow!  What a woman!  Such a wonderful journey she had!  Such a grand role model for us all.  
I appreciate her writing and am honored to have one of her books on my shelf!  Must read it again!
I appreciate her wisdom shared so often when I knew her at the Unitarian Fellowship of Greater Cumberland.
I appreciate her untiring bravery to make this world a better place for us all.
Love, gratitude, and admiration, Renate, Earthly Goddess!
May more of us be more like you.


 

Renate and I were neighbors, living on Ormand Street in Frostburg.  Renate enjoyed watching my two children grow up and play in the wood lot between our houses (as Julius no doubt had done).  We also attended the U.U. Fellowship in Cumberland together.  I don't know that she enjoyed my company, particularly, but we shared the interest of environmental conservation, so we drove together when possible.  I must admit that it was a relief when she decided to give up driving.  I didn't feel entirely safe with her behind the wheel.  Giving up driving is hard for anyone, but Renate made a point of not letting that confine her.  She accepted rides to the Fellowship or other events, but she resisted being pampered.  She maintained some sense of independence by refusing my offers to take her shopping.  She determinedly hiked the length of highway to the local grocery to purchase her provisions (even in challenging weather).  I know that she missed the freedom that driving allowed.  She could no longer drive to New Germany State Park on a whim to swim in the dark, cool water on a hot summer day (as she loved to do).  She would ask for a ride on occasion, but she was always careful "not to be a burden."

Renate had strong convictions, and she lived by them.  She wasn't one to just sit idly by when moved by world and local events.  She was well known for her insightful editorials in the local newspaper, and she no doubt was well known by our local representatives (through her frequent correspondence).  She surprised me when she began working as a volunteer for the local Ambulance Company (answering phone calls).  It was an unlikely association, given her intellect and age, but she saw it as a way to give something back to the community (and the station was within walking distance).  I have fond memories of Renate during a protest rally that we attended together in Cumberland (when George Bush was bent on retaliation after 9/11).  The sign she carried dwarfed her tiny frame, but she was determined to be noticed !!!

Renate may have been small in stature, but she wielded a mighty pen.  She was outspoken and very well respected for her thoughtful and caring insight.  Her place in the pew of the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship will never be filled (for those of us who knew her).  We could always count on Renate to give a response to the Sunday sermon, and we were often gifted by poetry that she would spontaneously share from memory (related to the topic of the day).  Renate took life seriously, and she made the most of the opportunities she was given.  It was a great privilage to have known her.

At the reception after Julius's first wedding a group of 10 or so fresh in-laws, the new couple, my wife and I and Renate sat a long table in a low ceilinged inn. The usual drunken toasts were being tossed out when Renate rose to speak. What followed was an intricate telling of her coming to this country, professional risks taken and the worries of motherhood. In a jaw dropping summary she tied it all together on the theme of doing what you think is right in this unpredictable world, having trust in love and hope for the future. Needless to say she had the last word. That speech has stayed with me lo these many years and has only gained in subtlety and truth.

One day in about 1970, my mother showed up in late afternoon with a carload of boxes. “Come help me unload,” she called from the driveway. Being a peri-adolescent, I muttered something about having “things” to do, but she persisted, with a pixieish glint in her eyes. “Look what I bought today at Sears,” she announced proudly, and then methodically started laying out: a tent, 2 sleeping bags, a Coleman lantern, a Coleman stove, a ground cloth, some tent stakes, and a variety of other camping necessities.

You have to understand. There’d been no previous discussions about camping, no begging on my part, no speculating about how nice camping must be, really nothing at all. It’s true, Phil and Amy had recently returned from their epic cross-country camping trip, so I suppose she may have been keeping up. All I know is, suddenly, we were people who camped. To this day I have no earthly idea how she selected all the right supplies; I guess someone at Sears had taken pity on her and filled her cart.

From that somewhat surreal beginning came an adolescence and young adulthood filled with one camping adventure after another, all done with Renate’s trademark brand of dogged determination, grim satisfaction, and often, supreme enjoyment. I remember her, sitting by a stream, feet dangling in cool water, puffing gently on a cigarette as she watched me (and usually a friend) put up our campsite. I also watched in sheer terror as she wrestled with the gasoline lantern and stove, frequently generating a deep red flare of untamed fire before managing to get the valves all set. To my somewhat weenie-ish mind, she was about to immolate us all.

Here’s to Renate the Camper - I’m sure it was nothing she really wanted to do, but she was simply determined that her kid was going to become an outdoorsman - and, in a limited way, he did. But my favorite memory of camping with Renate was the trip we took with Dad, in 1972. She marshalled him into the car for a cross-country camping trip. We stopped in Hays, Kansas for a motel respite, and saw a short TV news piece about a bunch of hoodlums who’d broken in to the Watergate Hotel. Then on to Pike’s Peak, Monument Valley, and the Grand Canyon, before coming home to Frostburg. Dad never fully forgave us for that trip, but he soldiered through heroically.