No comforts or amusements

“For the next nine months the Assistant Professor had no time to waste on comforts or amusements. He exhausted all his strength in trying to keep one day ahead of his duties. Often the stint ran on, till night and sleep ran short. He could not stop to think whether he were doing the work rightly. He could not get it done to please him, rightly or wrongly, for he never could satisfy himself what to do.”

                                        –Henry Adams, 1870, on his first attempts to teach Medieval history

Hi again! Did you wonder what had become of me? Well, my first three years of teaching full time happened.


Oh yeah, this happened. I had a dissertation!

If writing a dissertation is like having a baby, your first years of teaching are like the first few years of having a child. At least, I think the amount of sleep I was getting in those first months was comparable to a new parent.

I am very grateful for my tenure-track job, but wow, is it a staggering amount of work to get a full load of courses up and running! The above quote from Henry Adams captures the experience–not only is there little sleep and no time for amusements, but often the novice teacher is displeased with the results. Although I’ve tried to give myself grace as I learn how to be a good teacher I have often been frustrated as my teaching ambitions outpace my skill to pull my plans off to my complete satisfaction.

I’ve learned a lot about history of psychology in the process of teaching it to psychology undergraduates (3x so far) which I would like to discuss here. But that should really be its own post. For the moment this is just a notice that this blog is being resurrected as I attempt to turn my dissertation on Magda Arnold into a book. Prepare yourself for more mid-century Catholicism trivia and cool archival finds!



The meet-cute to the tearjerking goodbye


John and Magda in the ’70s

They met in her Harvard summer school class. She was the teacher, he was the student who stood out. Roman collar, razor sharp  wit, head and shoulders above the rest of the class both physically and intellectually. She was surprised (disappointed?) he didn’t stop by her office hours.  When he finally did they couldn’t stop talking…about Thomas Aquinas, emotion, the nature of being. Heady stuff. Life changing stuff. He had to leave the class early to give a retreat. They agreed to write and write they did.

At first about spiritual things, as she continued on her spiritual quest.

Her: “I just plod along the only road left open, not knowing whether I’m going forward or backward, nor at times whether I am on the right road at all.”

Him: “Do you know, my child, where you want to go? Could it be that you are going away from something and not toward something?”

He was out of his mind happy when she decided to convert.(“Te Deum Laudamus; Te Dominum confitemur!! …Welcome home!”)

Somewhere along the way they stopped calling each other Dr. Arnold and Father Gasson and instead wrote as Magda and Johnny.

Hot stuff, sometimes, for a priest and a good Catholic woman. Lots of endearments. Code for I love you (ily).

  • “Dear heart:- May the Lord be sweet when He comes to you on Christmas morning. It would be nice if I could be there with Him to Help Him”
  • “I’m still savoring your visit— I’ve not been as happy for I don’t know since when as when you were here. You’re wonderful andily.”
  • “I’ll think about what I’d like for my birthday – besides yourself, I mean.”
  • “Be good. Give me some news about you and believe me ily to be ily mostly your ily or most yoursly x Johnny”

They bore one another’s burdens. They talked about everything  He urged her to write, exhorted her to be of good cheer, gave feedback on all her drafts, edited her publications. She tried to give him credit but he told her not to be a fool. The last thing she need was a Jesuit coauthor bogging down her scholarship. In an age in which male scientists regularly took advantage of and failed to credit female labor (including their own wives!) he was content to play a supportive role. His credo was “he that loses his life, shall find it.” And besides, he loved her.

40 years of friendship. Years of visits, and letters, and finally the relief of living in the same town. But then, too soon, the cancer that would end his life. She got special permission to care for him at her home. When he got too ill she visited him every day in hospice. Eventually he couldn’t remember why he was there and would beg her to take him home with her. He started to lose his hearing and shouting didn’t make for intimate conversation, so all that was left was “to sit quietly, speaking to him in the heart and from the heart.” When he died she was bereft.

She wrote: “Christmas was difficult for me, the first Christmas without him. I know that friendship does not end just because one friend has died. Where he is, there is no time or space, so there are no limits to love. It’s only we, still earthbound, who suffer from the impossibility to see, hear or touch those we have lost.”

Her: “Friendship, the love between two persons, is the best there is in life, it is an earthly image of God’s love for us and our love for Him.”

Him: “I could not distinguish the parts you wrote and my parts… /Dear, dear, you and me belong so much together!!/”

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How distant is the past?

Caption reads: "Cardinal McGuigan's interest in the youth is extreme."

A sign of historical distance: caption reads “Cardinal McGuigan’s interest in the youth is extreme.”

Well, I finished Chapter 1–the biographical chapter! Huzzah! It feels good to have a complete chapter under my belt, and I quite enjoyed writing it. It is such a colorful and unlikely story, set in Austria/Czechoslovakia/Germany between 1903-1928, in Toronto 1928-1948, and various parts of the US (Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, Mobile, and Tucson) 1948-2002. Magda Arnold died at nearly 99 years old, so her life covers just such a wide range of time periods and cultural settings that I’ve found myself struggling with how to conceptualize them.

I think I’m really wrestling with a bigger issue–how far away is the past? In the case of Arnold my sense of this is widely variable. Sometimes her life seems quite recent and modern and sometimes it’s unspeakably ancient–it belongs to that part of life where distance is made obvious by a lack of color. My inconsistent sense of historical distance was brought home to me this Christmas when my grandfather was telling stories about, among other things, his memories of WWII. When he recounts these stories (for example, the attack on Pearl Harbor being announced at a concert where he was singing with his college’s men’s quartet, and then getting in trouble with the very alert Coast Guard when he and his buddies picked that evening to go digging for clams on the beach) they feel fresh, and relatively recent. But when I am reading Arnold and Gasson’s correspondence (typed on a typewriter and accompanied by 1940s-50s stamps and postmarks), it feels like from another reality altogether–even though most of the letters are nearly a decade later than Grampa’s story. I have to remind myself–oh yeah, the 1950s, that’s when my Grampa was starting his career as a doctor, just a couple years after Arnold was herself interning in hospitals and working for the Canadian Veteran’s Hospitals. This 1950s science is not as distant as it feels. It’s even stranger when things overlap both geographically and temporally.

For example, I felt my worlds collide recently when I read a letter from John Gasson in which he tells Magda about his visit to Gonzaga University in Spokane, Washington and his brief vacation at the Gonzaga ‘Villa’ at Hayden Lake in Idaho. My branch of the Rodkey clan hails from just this part of Eastern Washington, and I couldn’t help but think how near Gasson was to my extended family. My great grandparents were there, just about 15 miles away on the family farm (where they were eking out a living raising cattle, selling eggs, and logging pine trees), on those hot days of July of 1955 as Gasson enjoyed the “just right” water of the Hayden Lake and got sunburned. My father was born just the next year, and grew up water skiing on Hayden Lake.

Of course, my own relationship to time is what makes a great difference in my perception for how far away history is. My relationships with people older than I anchors my sense of the past. Both my grandfathers were serving in the Korean War in the early 50s, when Arnold was teaching at Barat College of the Sacred Heart and working out how her faith and scholarship went together. My parents were going to college in 1975, when Arnold retired (had they only been Catholic & gone to Spring Hill in Moblie, AL, instead of an evangelical school in Portland OR, they could have been students in one of Arnold and Gasson’s classes–now there is a strange thought!). My younger sister was born (and I was two) the year Arnold published her last book, Memory and the Brain. I was alive but just a kid when Arnold was recording the memories of her life that I’m reading now. And I was a junior in college, taking psychology courses but with little notion of the history of the field, in 2002, the year Arnold died. Strange.

I keep asking myself “How far away is this, really?” as I consider the various parts of Magda’s life. It’s not an idle question, either. I need to know so I know if my own common sense interpretation as a 32 year old American woman (whose major historic life events have the fall of the Berlin Wall, The Oklahoma City Bombing, and 9-11 and its aftermath) will do or if I need to work to reinhabit Arnold’s perspective. For example, when I read historical correspondence I sometimes find it tricky to guess at the formality or familiarity of author and recipient, since my entire professional life I’ve sent emails. Some things, like travel itineraries or requests for reprints have easy email correlates, but some aspects of written letters seem to have been entirely lost in the move to digital.

The fact is, as close in the recent past this history is, so much as changed. Some things really are foreign to me. I don’t use a typewritter, for instance, so I don’t readily know whether certain typos in Gasson’s letters are his playful personality coming through or simply products of the unforgiving nature of the typewriter. But even more importantly, I don’t know the pre-Vatican II Catholic world that Arnold belonged to. My maternal grandfather grew up being beaten up by the Catholic kids at school because he was a Protestant–but in the world I inhabit Protestants and Catholics are close allies in a mostly secular society. The image at the top of this post is another example of how much has changed. It comes froCardinalMGm a book I stumbled upon about Cardinal James McGuigan, who was Archbishop of Toronto 1934-1971 and was made a cardinal in 1946. The book is a celebration of McGuigan’s installation and documents the pomp and circumstance of various events like the photo at right, from a Marian Congress in Ottawa. The book was published in 1948, the same year that Arnold converted, and to me it speaks of a completely lost Catholic world. Where you could have the streets of Ottawa lined with faithful Catholics,* where “His Eminence” could glory in the ring and other ornate vestments of office, where, perhaps most of all, you could publish a book with an image of the archbishop with his arm around a young boy and the unselfconcious declaration that the Cardinal’s “interest in the youth is extreme.”**

Somehow I have to bridge that distance, to reenter that world. I need to see the Catholicism as Arnold saw it, pre-Vatican II changes, before priest sex abuse scandals, while there was still a Catholic ghetto that many people lived their whole lives in, and from which many Catholic intellectuals (including Arnold) were struggling to break free. That’s what research is for, of course, and for the next little bit I’m going to be immersing myself in books and articles which tell me about this lost world. But it’s still a challenge, and I never feel like I’ve quite arrived.


*There is also mention in the book of a reception following his installation in the Maple Leaf Gardens in which 17,000 Torontonians of “different faiths crowded the stadium to the doors to do him honor.” Good luck trying that today!

**Don’t get me wrong, I am not implying anything about McGuigan–he seems to have been a great guy. At the time of his installation he was the youngest archbishop in the church (age 35) and he worked to decrease diocesan debt, and really did seem concerned to make the church youth-friendly.

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Random Fact #1: Flannery O’Connor’s Pet Chicken

Mary Flannery O'Connor at about the right age

Did you know that six year old Flannery O’Connor had a pet chicken that was featured on the news? It’s true! You can see the Pathé News clip here. She said of the experience of being on film “…it was the high point in my life. Everything since has been an anticlimax.”

What on earth does O’Connor’s childhood chicken have to do with my dissertation? Well, not much. It’s simply one of many very random facts that I’ve learned in the process of research. In this case O’Connor makes it into my dissertation because she’s Catholic and from the same period as Magda Arnold and in her recently published journal from her university days, psychology comes up quite a lot.

In her very first entry O’Connor prays

“I can feel a warmth of love heating me when I think & write this to you. Please do not let the explanations of the psychologist about this make it turn suddenly cold. My intellect is so limited, Lord that I can only trust in you to preserve me as I should be.”

In this quite short journal O’Connor mentions psychology quite frequently, primarily along the lines the quote above–in anxiety that psychological explanations would destroy her faith. This is quite interesting, given its contrast with the much more positive attitude Magda Arnold had towards psychology. On the other hand, they were both doing the same sort of project, really integrating their faith into their discipline, so it seems like you could make the argument that there was something larger going on at the time that was encouraging this kind of ‘integration’ work (Thomas Merton and Walker Percy are other writers who might fall into that category).

I came across the chicken fact when I was Googling to try and find out how O’Connor was exposed to psychology. So far I’ve figured out that she received a social science degree at Georgia State College for Women in 1945, but that’s it. So if anyone knows any more than that, like what courses she took, or knows which of her many biographies would hold this information, let me know! But in any event, you should check out O’Connor’s journal. It’s short, but delightful. For example:

“What I am asking for is really very ridiculous. Oh Lord, I am saying, at present I am a cheese, make me a mystic, immediately. But then God can do that—make mystics out of cheeses.”


dramatis personae

So who am I writing my dissertation on? Here’s a quick intro to the two major players.


  • Born 1903, in a small German-speaking town in what was then Austria
  • Got interested in psychology by reading Freud at age 16
  • Immigrated to Toronto in 1928 with her husband, to the US in 1947 by herself to teach
  • Was able to begin university and study psychology only because of her separation from her husband (and his custody of their 3 girls)
  • Got her PhD from University of Toronto with a dissertation that challenged the established wisdom about the role of adrenaline in emotion (think fight or flight)
  • In 1948 converted to Catholicism, a decision which impacted both her career and her thinking about psychology–her theories of emotion were inspired by and relied on the philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas
  • Introduced the appraisal theory of emotion, which foreshadowed and influenced cognitive theories of emotion. Magnum opus = Emotion and Personality (1960)
  • Edited The Human Person (1954), the result of a symposium she organized for Catholics in psychology which attempted to review personality and reinterpret the conclusions “from a Christian conception of man as a philosophical basis.”

If you had asked me about my dissertation project this summer at the beginning of the fall, I would have stopped there. My dissertation focuses on Magda Arnold and the impact her religious belief had on her scientific theories, and that is quite enough to cover in one dissertation, thank you very much!

But then in October I visited Joan Arnold, Magda’s oldest daughter. She generously shared with me a treasure trove of papers from Magda, which blew my plans for my dissertation right out of the water! In addition to a bunch of other cool things, the most thrilling was a stack of correspondence circa 1950 between Magda Arnold and her priest friend Father John Gasson. The letters were completely charming and full of the sort of details of daily life that historians crave, but more importantly they filled in the story about how Magda came to faith. John Gasson was the key–Magda called meeting him “the greatest stroke of luck” in her life. So here’s what I know about him so far:



  • Born in 1904 in Pittsfield, Massachusetts
  • Joined the Society of Jesus in Macon, Georgia in 1921, was ordained in 1933
  • Received degrees in from Boston College (BA and MA), Gregorian University in Rome (PhD),  and Weston College (STL)
  • Dissertation on ‘The Psychological Structure of Religious Experience’
  • Taught at Spring Hill College and the Jesuit House of Studies there
  • Taught primarily psychology and philosophy, but also Latin, Greek, history, logic, and anthropology
  • Established the psychology department at Spring Hill in 1962
  • Led numerous retreats and provided counseling to various clients
  • Co-edited The Human Person with Magda Arnold
  • Guided Magda back into the Catholic church in 1948
  • Was deeply influential in Magda’s thinking–an intellectual partner and her closest friend

Of course, I know a whole lot more than that about John’s personality, thanks to his letters. I know, for example, that he was a joyful person with a great sense of humor–he was an (intentionally) sloppy speller, he rarely dated his letters other than by the day of the week (or a holy day), and occasionally broke out his typewriter’s red ink for emphasis or to be funny. As you can tell, I like him a lot. I’m still not quite sure how he fits into my dissertation, though.

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Dissertation Writing Fun!


So I eventually want this blog to be a resource for history of psychology myths, etc (see the About page), but at present I’m a tad busy writing my dissertation. The above West Wing clip shows exactly how this goes much of the time (Sam, I feel your pain!). But I am also having a lot of fun with writing and am learning a ton about all sorts of crazy things I never knew about. I find I can’t wait until it’s all done to share some of the cool bits so I’ll occasionally post here to share what I’m learning about Magda Arnold and her Catholic faith & psychology theories.

I’ll introduce Arnold a bit more next time, as well as her fantastic correspondence I’m currently reading through.

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