Hoosier Happenings

Intoxicating trip down memory lane

2012-01-17T14:52:00.008-05:00

Getting settled into our home....finally.....has prompted me to go looking for a few pieces of artwork, photographs, and keepsakes that have been boxed up with the idea that some day they would adorn our walls. Most of these are kept in a long tote in the basement. I pulled it out the other day and then my trip down memory lane began.

When I finished the trim in my office I created a photo shelf off the top of the door across the wall. This allowed me to display a couple of pretty slick black and white photographs from college; each of which has special meaning to me. When I went to find them, I found a few other pieces of paintings from college-4 decent ones that I've kept all these years-and I took the best of the lot for my office and told the kids they each had to choose one for their rooms. No one wanted the alien-looking guy climbing toward infinity.

Then I came across "the ugly picture" as my wife refers to it. It is a chromolythic print that hung in my great x3 grandmother's kitchen, from the late 1800s. It was given to me maybe 20 years ago and has been in storage ever since. I've sized it up for a frame but my wife says no way will that hang in our kitchen. I don't see this as a closed case-stay tuned for more on the ugly picture.

But what I finally landed on, and spent a fair amount of time reminiscing over were the drawings from my thesis while in the school of architecture. Your thesis project is supposed to exemplify everything you've learned in school and culminate with a kick-butt project. Your class is given a redevelopment site and you select a building site and program within that context. The year before us went to California for their project; the year behind us went to Alaska. We, well, we went to Milwaukee.

But that's ok. Milwaukee is a unique, blue collar, down and dirty rugged sort of city.......and it led to the inspiration to design a building that both embraced the industrial nature of the city, but tried to capture the spirit of progress in its downtown. The building program I created for the building? A micro brewery with loft style apartments. How does that not scream Milwaukee? My project site was along the river and next to a massive old power plant, and in the shadow of several national brewers. I'm not a beer drinker, and my parents probably would have been mortified if I had told them what would represent 5 years of college education. Regardless, I began to study the brewing process, and the research became an integral part of the thesis project. And for precedent, at least with the building form, I went out and photographed every grain elevator I could find in a 50 mile radius. And while on a college trip in Oregon that year, we stopped at a micro brewery in Mt. Angel for additional "research".

Did you know that beer first arrived on America's shores with the European colonists? The Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock in December of 1620, because, in the words of one diarist aboard the Mayflower "we could not now take time for further search or consideration, our victuals being much spent, especially our beer." What did George Washington, William Penn, and Thomas Jefferson all have in common? They all brewed beer on their plantations.

By March of 1996, with graduation just a few months away, the program and general form of the building was set. I created a large "vault" between two massive brick end walls that contained the loft apartments. The vault was the brewery. A restaurant was dockside on the river and I created large dining rooms cladded in copper to give the effect of brewing vats. The plans and elevations were drawn with graphite and colored pencil. The model-I was always jealous of my buddies who did great models-explored materials as much as rusted steel to mimic cortin steel, copper, wood, and glass. And yes, the "vats" are tuna cans painted with copper paint. I even honored my two professors that year by depicting their faces on one drawing of two monks holding each side a a giant vat. Yes, my colleagues pointed it out to them.

The only thing I remember from my presentation.....which I cleaned up on......was that the jury thought the drawings were "intoxicating" and that it would have only been better had I served beer to the jurors. I made a mental note of that, but to this date have never served beer to my clients. Maybe one day, when I am a multi millionaire, I'll build it myself.

Daniels: How high can he count?

2012-01-11T15:17:00.005-05:00

In a bit of a celebratory, yet intrepid spirit I flipped the channel over to watch Governor Daniels' last state of the state address. And that lasted about 30 seconds before I felt nauseous and continued flipping through the channels. Ultimately I shut the tv off and started reading a new book called "Radical". Sounds about right.

The sole part of the address I caught was a comment that reveals his fixation that other states want to be Indiana. I don't find this to be true. It makes me think he has some form of inferiority complex-as though saying it enough may make it true. He relayed a story that a reporter asked him what kept him up at night, or maybe how he overcomes insomnia. His response was "I don't count sheep.....I count how many states I'm glad I'm not the governor of". And after he gave his smug little smile....I turned the channel.

But, that left me wondering, maybe concerned, exactly how high can Mitch count?

Because here are some stats that put Indiana pretty close to the bottom these days:

36th in unemployment

42nd in SAT scores

32nd in median income

41st in population growth

38th in personal health

40th in foreclosures

32nd in the poverty rate

This leads me to believe that Mitch gets pretty tired after counting to only about 12 or 15!

Where Indiana does shine is our 22nd place (just a little above the middle) for debt as a percentage of gross domestic product. I guess that's something to celebrate.

No, Mitch, I'm afraid that it's the governors of other states who are counting their lucky stars they don't have Indiana's problems. And this may be why people don't want to live here anymore. You and Mr. Bosma balanced the state budget all right-on the backs of everyone paying more in sales tax, our public schools, and our cities and towns. You're not a miracle worker, you're a charlatan that's gotten 6.5 million Hoosiers to drink from your punch bowl.

a psalm for the new year

2012-01-09T10:10:00.006-05:00

Time is Yours, oh God. The passing of each day, the movement of the heavens above, the surge of the sea and rolling of the land below, these were established from your throne.

We cannot still the waters nor hold the heavens in place. We cannot add a day to our lives, nor see what lies beyond our eyes. You know all things, and the days of man You have numbered.

But we rest in your mercy. Just as the morning frost clings to the earth on stem and branch, so You embrace us. Just as the sun warms the earth, You set your face upon us. Just as the rain breaks the thirst of dry ground, You give life to your children.

Strengthen us like You give power to the wing of the eagle and leg of the deer. Give life to my arm, that it not fail, and direct my thoughts that You may delight in the work of your servant. Let us not weary in establishing justice and acting from mercy.

We are but reeds in the field moved by the breeze, but You are the breeze. We are but the sound of waves on the shore, but You are the mighty sea. We are but hatchlings in the nest, but You are the eagle. You are awesome, oh God.

The "back in my day" Christmas tree experience

2011-12-11T15:36:00.008-05:00

When I was a kid we always went to hunt for the family Christmas tree at Klotz's Pines near Bremen. A few times we searched at Apple's Christmas Tree Farm south of Plymouth, but both places, particularly Klotz's, lacked the "pizazz" of what it seems today's Christmas tree farms try to provide as a...well..."solid" Christmas experience for the whole family.

Solid. Which frankly has become like a tough piece of beef that's hard to swallow. Seriously...it looks like Santa threw up a bunch of Christmas joy on some of these places. And what's worse is that people seem to just want to sit and soak in it.

Several years ago Klotz's closed which left pretty much one option if you wanted to cut down your own tree. The problem was that this place was adding to their "authentic" experience with each passing year. And that was adding to the price of their trees too. Ultimately a few Decembers ago I threw in the towel and went to Lowe's for our tree. It seemed all-together wrong, but really no less commercial than the other alternative. Finally last year was the last straw when I realized I had paid almost $70 for a tree to a place I dreaded going. The whole experience was no more authentic than picking a fake one out in the holiday aisle at Walmart. And that led to me planting a few dozen trees on the Hill that would become trees for future Christmases.

But what to do about this year? The Tribune printed a list of local Christmas tree farms prior to Thanksgiving. I scanned the list and found a farm in Monterey-the closest location to us and only an extra 10 minutes from the commercialized racket we had become accustomed to. So last weekend (a week after they caught the fugitive murderer in the area) I called the Monterey farm and got their hours and a few other details. The fella that I spoke with said he'd even take my wife as trade-in for a tree. This sounded very local so off we went.

This place was perfect. Aside from a wreath on the door and some jingle bells on the owner's old dog, this place had NO pizazz. The owner pointed us in the direction of the spruces and we were hard-pressed to find a bad tree. Not knowing what the damage would be I nearly fell over when he tallied my bill and it was half the cost of the other place....and no charge for shaking and baling. I told him he had a great little place there and I mentioned that - - - - was just becoming too commercialized, and that this was the kind of place I grew up with. He said I wasn't the first person to tell him that. Monterey Pines is a three generation owned family tree farm, and the owner reminded me a bit of uncle Eddie off National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Everything I would want out of the experience.

Now, don't get me wrong. If giant plastic candy canes, Santa and Mrs. Claus, reindeer, et al are your thing-have at it. I don't mean to be dissing any of my friends who patronize the other place, I'm just more comfortable with the way things were back in my day, a little less commercialized......and I don't think the kids missed out on anything either.

Out with the new, in with the Old

2011-11-30T10:10:00.009-05:00

As soon as we closed on our new old place out in the country, we began a feverish attempt to renovate as much as possible and still move in within a 10 day period. One of the first things to go was the cheap 1960s era paneling that adorned the walls of the dining room. Under it we found....wallpaper......not less than four layers of wallpaper.

But that wasn't the problem. We assumed we would find layers of wallpaper attached to plaster walls....the condition of the plaster we assumed would be so-so. The problem is that there was no plaster. Instead it was plywood. Plywood? That made be re-think how old the walls were in the dining room. We knew that it had been the original summer kitchen with a porch off to its south side. We knew that another summer kitchen was added c. 1890 on the east end. We knew that when the bathroom was created in the old summer kitchen, they enclosed the porch. And these are the walls that had plywood....probably from the 1930s. The top and bottom pictures are the way we found the dining room.

So, we got an estimate to remove all the plywood, install drywall and finish it. And not that the cost was too high, but I stopped and thought.....gee, what I'd really like to do is cover the walls in wood planks.

The former owner, whose family had owned the farm since 1865, told us that there was wood stored in the barn from when the house was first built. She believed that since her great x3 grandfather operated a sawmill that it had come from the property. I climbed up into the rafters and found more than 50 oak planks, between 8-10' long, an inch thick, and anywhere from 12-18" wide. It was gorgeous old growth wood, probably not less than 100 years old when they were felled almost 150 years ago. The top picture is what we lived with for almost 2 years, the bottom picture is the oak in process.

So the new plan was to use the boards to cover the dining room walls....not only did I think it would look cool, but it also would keep the boards which had a history with the farm, with the farm. I pulled the boards down, picked out the very best, and off they went to an Amish mill to be planed and squared.

An then back they came. Our carpenter used all but about 6 of the 45 boards we sent to the mill. He created a plate shelf at the top of the boards, which reach to the tops of the doorways. We used the boards on the south entry hall wall as well. Then to give it a look like they've always been here, I applied a light base stain and did my best Karate Kid impression of furniture wax on, wax off. The result is fantastic....makes me feel like I'm in a lodge most of the day. We have the crown molding to install in the dining room, and some minor trim yet in the entry hall, but after almost 2 years of a whole lot of ugly.....my wife couldn't be happier. We plan to use the other boards for a new top for the dining room table, and we're having an "innaugural dinner" tonight with the carpenter's family. The bottom and top pics are prior to stain and wax.

When a hymn becomes a prayer

2011-11-23T06:24:00.006-05:00

We gather together
I think we too often forget the power and joy in simply gathering together, as family and friends, to share our lives, the joy, memories....just the company can renew our spirits

to ask the Lord’s blessing;
Please God, though we don't deserve to ask for any more blessing than we already have in this great nation....bless us with compassion, wisdom, and peace

He chastens and hastens His will to make known;
Because you are God, You know our hearts and You know our thoughts....and You do guide us and correct us to carry out Your purpose for us....and we pray others will see that in us

The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing;
We have no guarantee in this life that bad people won't take advantage of us or hurt us, in fact Your word says to expect these things if we are Yours

Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.
So God, grant us peace in knowing that we are Yours

Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,
Continue to walk with us, direct our paths, let us look to You in the decisions we make

Ordaining, maintaining His kingdom divine;
Your will is above our own....the plans you have for us are for Your glory alone

So from the beginning the fight we were winning;
It may not look like victory now, but we trust that our fight is Your fight and justice is Yours

Thou, Lord, were at our side, all glory be Thine!
So thank you God, for walking with us.....this is Your life, not mine, all glory is Yours

We all do extol Thee, Thou Leader triumphant,
How great and awesome are You God

And pray that Thou still our Defender will be;
So please, continue to sheild us from those who mean us harm

Let Thy congregation escape tribulation;
For we are Yours and though things may not be easy, provide us a path through the storm

Thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!
For You are God, and the freedom we enjoy is because of you.....please place within us a heart to see those around us free from oppression, strife, and poverty.

Be more than thankful this year......be prayerful.

Occupy Wall Mart?

2011-11-09T13:46:00.006-05:00

I've been watching the Occupy Wall Street movement as a curious bystander, wondering about the object of the demonstration as well as the source of the utter disdain some have for the protesters. To be honest, I'm not sure I get either. I think at the heart of the protest movement is just a simple outpouring of frustration in general that ranges from the lack of employment, corporate corruption and loss of ethics, to a broad underlying concern that it appears things are about to get worse given the political outlook. Sure, it has its crazies and detractors, but then who doesn't?

I had dinner with a good friend I would consider on the far right. He essentially mocked the movement because they don't have a clear message.....that in fact, it was a variety of concerns he heard as a reporter interviewed one after another protesters. I tend to be more sympathetic. However, I don't believe the Occupy movement, or at least it doesn't appear the movement has a deeper understanding of this unraveling of the American dream. Further, I don't believe they understand (generally) that they are the ones who have contributed to our economic condition.

Corporate greed is fed by willing spenders. We want our stuff cheap. Well, to do that retailers (assume big box since cheap automatically disqualifies mom & pop) have to outsource the manufacture of that cheap crap to someplace with a workforce willing to work for a third what we do. Hey, buddy, that's why you can't find work! Oh yeah, and we want cheap gas to drive our cars to buy our cheap crap.....which is on the other side of town now......so, guess what? The demand for drilling in your back yard and running a pipe line goes up, as does our imperative for an expensive military presence on the other side of the world. Unfortunately that is costing more than endangered wildlife their habitat, it has cost us dearly in dead and broken humanity.

No, I don't decry the protest like many others on the right. I just don't think the American public understand that we have created this mess ourselves, if we did, we would Occupy Walmart. We are too lazy to think about the collateral damage in making a living from gambling (did I say gambling, I meant to say day-trading to clean it up), supporting a "global economy" or much less the benefit to promoting a local economy. The outcry against the protests I believe is coming from those who have not yet become affected by the corrosive nature of this new American economic model, or from those who benefit from it. But it is apparent that as a nation we have begun this race to the bottom where things, including ethics, will only be weighed by their economic value. It is a new formula that dismisses faith, humanity, and stewardship for future generations.....and the last is what concerns me the most.

le' coupe re doux

2011-11-04T09:51:00.013-04:00

By the end of this post you should be able to identify an extreme preservationist.

When we were closing on the purchase of Sycamore Hill the former owner asked what we planned to do with the chicken coop...but quickly followed that up with "oh you'll probably tear it down, it is in rough shape." My eyes opened wide and I said, heck no, that's part of the charm of the place. Last year we bit off interior renovations and restoring the WPA outhouse. This year we renovated the porch, put in landscaping, and are finishing interior renovations (coming soon!); but we (I?) also made a commitment to restore the coop this year.

The coop was built in about 1930 and based on the material that was used, it looks like most of the structural members came from a few walls that were removed inside the house. Since the coop sits between the house and the barn, at the base of the hill, the roof is a dominant feature of the 21' x 16' building....and I didn't want to lose the "look" of the rustic old corrugated metal roof....but it was leaking and had caused some structural problems. So I removed and catalogued the metal roof panels, fixed the wood roof and structural problems and replaced the fascia (that was a tough decision, but new won out), put down a drip edge, and covered the roof with ice and water shield-not a cheap product. In the end the roof looked........exactly like it did before I spent $500.

Then I had to patch in wood siding that had deteriorated or was missing. There was very little of that fortunately, and since the coop was constructed with scrap and leftovers, I had enough scrap and leftovers on the farm that matched the two types of siding that the repairs are virtually seamless. Then to give my dad something to do, he painted the entire building with a sprayer.

The coop has three windows (one on each side, except for the back) and one door. It looks like the windows and door came off another building on the farm. The south window and the door were fine. The west window (though covered with layers) was still there; the east window (also covered by layers and missing its mullions and bottom rail) was also "there". So I had the sashes restored and glass put in. We've wanted to paint our exterior doors on the house a feature color, which would be carried over to the coop. We decided on deep red, which ties in the red barn and the red trim inside the house. And it looks great on the little coop.

I kept a perfect record of the costs associated with this little project, as well as documenting it with photos just in case there is ever an insurance issue. From my office window I stare at the coop and outhouse all day long. I have to say I'm pretty pleased with the results. So the question is now, do we put chickens in it? I think that it's too nice for that....I may move my office into it. Next year we work on the '20s garage and start the big project...the barn.

Too often these little farm buildings disappear, until ultimately the barn is gone and the farmhouse sits there, looking like a fish out of water. I don't know how many structures have been removed here at Sycamore Hill. The corn crib foundation sits between the coop and the barn, but I don't see putting that back. The buildings work together to give this place the charm that I fell in love with almost exactly two years ago today. They represent a history that our generation is so far removed from, and I want to be able to have some vestige of that past that my grandparents and those before them knew, saved for future generations.

God Of This City

2011-11-01T08:44:00.000-04:00

More than 'a few birds!'

2011-10-28T19:07:00.008-04:00

In honor of two great American "dark" writers, Edgar Allen Poe and Alfred Hitchcock, I offer this prelude to Halloween...........for the birds.

Crows. I know they aren't the Ravens Poe wrote about, but they do seem to be creating some havoc in U.S. cities, including Lafayette, and at Sycamore Hill. The other day I looked outside to the withered and browned stalks remaining in the garden only to spy nearly a dozen large black crows fighting over what little seed the sunflowers, dead as they may be, still had to offer. And then today while working I heard a, well, crowing commotion in the backyard. I peered out the window to first see one, no two, wait three, no at least four dozen angry crows filling our leafless trees and swooping to the ground around the bon fire pit. And when they heard me approach they lifted off in cascades of black. Hitchcock would have been impressed....and I must say, I was a bit unsettled. Though none chided me like the Raven.

"And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadows on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted--nevermore! "

And certainly not to be outdone by the flocks descending on our home, it is that time of the year to visit the Sandhill Cranes at Jasper-Pulaski. We drove there last Tuesday and watched this fowl spectacle unfold under dreary skies. While not a scene from a horror show, the guttural sound overhead by thousands can be unnerving. It is a sight to behold.

"I keep telling you, this isn't 'a few birds'! These are gulls, crows, swifts...!"

"I have never known birds of different species to flock together. The very concept is unimaginable. Why, if that happened, we wouldn't stand a chance! How could we possibly hope to fight them?" from The Birds

Getting Away to Brown County

2011-10-24T08:55:00.005-04:00

Today marks our 13th Anniversary. I think every year since our wedding we have made a point of getting away in the Fall to celebrate, except for last year. My wife insisted we get away for a few days so we landed in Brown County last week.

Last week-when the calender said October, but it clearly was late November monsoon weather.

This wasn't our first trip to lil' Nashville. Fortunately for past visits the sun was usually shining and the leaves radiated their colors. What stunk about this trip is that I had purchased a new toy-a really good camera-and wanted to try it out. I took two shots of our B&B. But, short of the weather, we had a great time. This is what the week looked like for us:

Tuesday night, after celebrating the Michigan Road Byway at High Point Orchard in Greensburg, we drove to Brown County State Park, hoping for a stay at the Abe Martin Lodge. After being charged the $5 entry fee at 9:15 p.m. I asked if it was refundable if there was no room at the inn. I was glared at. There was a room, thankfully, and the next morning we had breakfast in their dining room and drove through the park to check out the nature center and the rain-soaked leaves.

Then we drove into Nashville and met my parents at the Daily Grind Coffee House (they were on their way out of town). My dad calls the owner grumpy, but after watching my dad constantly goad him, I can understand why. We left there and meandered through the shops that included two artists' galleries. The first's clerk asked where we were from and when we said Republicania County, she said that's where her ancestors were buried. I asked what their names were and she said Boggs. I said, "really? I just wrote a National Register nomination for the Boggs homestead." They were the same; I plan to send her the document. The second gallery is a favorite stop of mine. As we looked at the paintings I noticed that several prints were created by Jim Gray (not blogger Grey); Gray was the name on a print we received for our wedding. Then I noticed a number of original "Matt Gray"s. I asked the clerk if the two were related and he said that Jim was his dad, and he was Matt. The $1000 price tag on his work was the only thing that kept me from buying a second generation Gray.

We had a bowl of soup for lunch at the Hob Knob Corner restaurant. If you've never been, you really need to go. Aside from the Brown County Courthouse kitty-corner from the Hob Knob, the building is the most historic place in town and was listed on the National Register many years ago. And the food is excellent. We checked into our B&B on the northwest corner of the downtown. The Hester House was built during the 1850s by a local judge and has been restored and turned into a Bed & Breakfast; not only is it one of the nicest places to stay in Brown County, it is also one of the most economical.

That evening we had a late dinner at the Artist Colony Inn (late for me is 6:30); it is one of the coziest places to dine in Nashville. And later we got coffee at the Muddy Boots Cafe' just a block from our B&B. I believe the place is fairly new; there were crowds there two nights in a row and live music, though when we ate dinner there on Thursday night only part of the band showed so the guitarist called it an early night.

Thursday we drove to Bloomington to visit the Bloomington Antique Mall in the old warehouse district. My wife had been there a week before and had seen a dining room cabinet she thought would be perfect for our house. It wasn't there any longer. The clerks told us to call the booth's owner in case she just switched it out. She had, and she had painted it for her own use. But she was still willing to bargain but couldn't accommodate a visit until late that afternoon. I didn't want to drive back from Nashville, so that perfect cabinet is sitting in her house today.

We drove on to Story, Indiana where we had lunch at the Story Inn. The town consists of a few houses and the inn and is a pleasant half hour drive from Nashville. When we drove up we saw a tour bus unloading. This hidden little gem is always busy and also accommodates folks from the other world......yes, it is supposed to be haunted. Back in Nashville we toured a few more shops including one potter's studio near the old Ferguson house. We visit J. Mills' studio every time we are in Nashville; he does exceptional work and has been operating from that location for as long as I can remember. We also ran into friends from Republicania County....that's happened more than once in Nashville.

Friday the sun came out. We left for home by way of highways 9 and 19 to absorb some of that fall-time beauty across the countryside we wouldn't get traveling up 465 and 31. This reads more like a travel logue, but I wanted to give a shout-out to some of the great places Indiana's famous fall retreat center has to offer......I just wish I had more pictures to go along with it. These are of the Hester House B&B.

The Museum - "Allelujah" - Live @ Life Church

2011-10-18T08:37:00.000-04:00

Photo Shoot on the Hill

2011-10-14T08:11:00.005-04:00

A few weeks ago we held a family photo shoot at the farm and we couldn't have been more pleased with the results. So, this one is for our family and friends out there......

Lincoln Highway Gains Byway Designation

2011-10-07T06:34:00.004-04:00

Within a month of the Michigan Road becoming Indiana's newest state byway, the Lincoln Highway across northern Indiana was officially designated by the Lt. Governor on October 3rd. The Lincoln Highway, which was the brain child of Indianapolis Speedway founder Carl Fisher, first traversed the state from Ft. Wayne to Dyer in 1913 by way of South Bend (blue line). By 1927 motorists were asking for a more direct route so in 1928 a new alignment was marked between Ft. Wayne and Valparaiso by way of Plymouth (red line).

While the Michigan Road can capitalize on the state's early history, the Lincoln Highway can capitalize on the early 20th century's newly found fascination with auto travel. Both byways mean heritage tourism to the northern part of the state through a venue southern Indiana has been using for decades. The cities who are doubly blessed are New Carlisle, South Bend, and Plymouth due to having BOTH byways run through them.

Our Newest State Byway: The Historic Michigan Road and Our Inseparable Ties

2011-09-27T14:42:00.009-04:00

This old historic road that runs through Indiana, like a spine connecting the Ohio River with Lake Michigan, the Michigan Road, and I are old friends. We have a history tied to every facet of my life and it seems to be a road I can’t get away from, a road that pulls me back with it into the past and pushes me along with it into the future.

I did all my growing up on “Michigan Road Lands”; tracts of land the State of Indiana received as part of a treaty with the American Indians and sold to settlers beginning in the 1830s. We lived on portions of my grandpa’s farm located just a mile off the Michigan Road. I went to church at the LaPaz Church of God, along the road, until I was about 6 years old when we drove the Michigan Road to South Bend every Sunday to attend a church less than a mile off the road. I went to LaPaz Elementary School, located on the road, through 6th grade. And then I completed Junior and Senior High School along the road at Grace Baptist in Plymouth. And I drove the road every day to get there. Then I went to college and drove the road every day to get to South Bend.

After I graduated from college and got a job in Plymouth, just a block off the Michigan Road, I moved into an apartment in the downtown and had one of the best views overlooking the Michigan Road at 120 ½ N. Michigan. And then I walked along the road to get to work. In 1997 I met my future wife at a coffee shop on the road and in 1998 we were married at the Church of the Brethren in Plymouth-you guessed it-on the road. And we took a celebratory drive in the backseat of her dad’s VW with the top down, down the Michigan Road. A few months later we moved into our first home at 308 South Michigan, a house constructed in 1853 when the road wasn’t much more than a dirt path.

When we purchased our second home it seemed that our new connection to the Michigan Road was going to be tenuous at best. We were located a full quarter mile off the road, again on Michigan Road Lands. But then I looked into the history of our house and the man who built it, Robert Schroeder. Schroeder came to Marshall County with his father in the early 1830s to build the Michigan Road. His father built a cabin on the east side of the road a few miles north of Plymouth. Robert purchased the property in 1865 and built his house at the east end of the property, which is our home now. His grave, marked “first settler of Marshall County” is located in the Fairmount Cemetery, the oldest cemetery in the county, just north of our home along the road. It seems we can’t get away from this old road. And now we travel it with our kids to school and church on Sundays.

As much as my life is and was connected to the road, it should be no surprise that my ancestors were just as connected. My Dad and my Grandma Crothers Hochstetler went to the old LaPaz School like I did. My grandparents established the Garner Inn in 1949 at the road’s intersection with Highway 6 south of LaPaz. They traded their farm near Tyner for the inn and lived above it. My Crothers ancestors’ farm was located on the east side of the road on the north side of LaPaz; they built their home in about 1860 and it is still there today. My Barnhill ancestors traveled the Michigan Road from Indianapolis to Argos and established their farm on the west side of the road just north of town in the 1840s. Great x4 grandpa Barnhill started the Antioch Church north of his home on the Michigan Road; his home is still there but the church is long gone. My great grandparents, named Bryant, traveled the road north from Rochester and lived in a home on the east side of Michigan north of Argos, also still there today. My great, great grandfather Garner had a saddle and tack shop on the north edge of downtown Rochester, on the west side of the road; the building is still there. My great grandmother Garner had a dress shop in downtown Argos, on the southwest corner of Michigan and Walnut Streets. My great, great, great grandfather Moore had a dry goods and general mercantile on Michigan Street in Argos; both buildings are still there. My ancestors are buried in the old Argos, Fairmont, and County Line Cemeteries in Marshall County. I say all this to demonstrate that my family did their living, dying, schooling, and worshipping along this great old road, dating back to almost its entire history.

I first learned about the history of the Michigan Road in 1997. I had always thought it was just the road to Michigan. While working with a group of people from Plymouth to put the downtown on the National Register of Historic Places, I learned about the road’s story. I learned that it was the very first road commissioned by the State of Indiana which began as an agreement in the 1826 treaty with the Potawatomie Indians. In 1829 the road was surveyed and construction started the following year. The road stretched 270 miles from Madison to Michigan City, connecting the new state capital, Indianapolis, with shipping ports. The road led to the establishment of a number of Indiana towns, particularly in the north where the land was solidly wilderness. The road was the path over which the American Indian was removed from their lands and also served as a path to freedom for escaping slaves. Between 2005 and 2007 I placed both downtown Rochester and Argos on the National Register where the Michigan Road serves as their main street.

The fascination with the Michigan Road grew as I traced the route on a state map and longed to drive the whole route. I got the chance when I won a bet with my wife over the amount of snow each of us predicted from a blizzard on New Year’s Day, 1999. The winner chose a location to take a weekend trip. I chose Madison by way of the Michigan Road. It was after that trip I realized there needed to be a way created to celebrate the rich history of the road. I submitted one grant request for funds to survey the historic sites along the road and was turned down. I sat down with the state historic preservation office to establish a method to do this under another application, but it didn’t fit neatly into their standards.

I wrote a blog post on the Historic Michigan Road in 2008 and a fellow named Jim Grey found me and left a message. He wrote a piece on the road, to which I commented that we should work together to find a way to honor the road. On August 2, 2008, two guys who had never met before scheduled a meeting to “discover” the Michigan Road in Fulton and Marshall Counties. At that time we talked about finding some way to promote the history of the road. Several weeks later I attended the Indiana Byways Conference on behalf of the Lincoln Highway and realized this was the answer, and contacted Jim with the idea.

We held a meeting in Rochester in January, 2009, and invited as many people we could think of who could be interested in this endeavor in the northern part of the state. It was decently attended by several people who would become our committee members. We decided to hold another meeting in Logansport later that spring and at that meeting we organized and began a series of community meetings up and down the Michigan Road into 2010. Communities showed great interest and support for the project. In December, 2010, we submitted a 90+ page document nominating the Historic Michigan Road as a state byway. In May, 2011 members of our committee presented our case to state officials and on September 9, 2011 an order by the Lt. Governor officially designated the Historic Michigan Road a state byway.

It seems that the road and I are inseparable, like old friends, and it looks like we’ll have a long and happy future together.

Extreme porch make-over & insul(t)brick

2011-09-26T11:17:00.005-04:00

Like most old farmhouses, our backporch is our "front door". We have a front door and I think visitors have used it once or twice in the 20 months we have lived here, but many more times than not people come to the back door on the porch. It was the door we first used to get a look at the house on Sycamore Hill and rarely do we use any other door to leave the house.

Our back door in town was essentially our front door too. The problem was that we had two of them and since one didn't function the first five years we lived there everyone got used to using the other. Then we put on a gorgeous new door, stone porch and pergola, and created an inviting entryway.....and since people were used to using the other door, well, it was at least nice to look at.

So we moved to Sycamore Hill and couldn't have asked for an uglier back door. There was a 30' long porch, 6' wide with a pocked and broken concrete floor, screened in openings that were full of debris, boards enclosing the top portion of the openings so you could only see as far as the gravel drive, and the house wall was the best....it was covered in insulbrick, which was a fiberboard material used for siding, usually over wood siding, installed during the 1920s-40s. It was promoted as a brick look with insulatory qualities. I call it insult-brick, because it is a bit of an insult.

Now, I'm sure somewhere out there is a good example of insulbrick that maybe should be preserved for posterity. However, our back porch wall is/was not such a location. It was dark grey-black and seemed to welcome mud-crafting wasps. But the ugly didn't end there. Right outside our back door, in the porch floor, was a "small pit" as the former owner described it, saying she fell into it one time while she visited her grandparents. The pit had wood boards over it and steel panels covering the wood. Out of curiosity just a few weeks ago I popped up a board. Small pit? That thing is 6' deep! It's a fall-out shelter!

So, we moved in and the porch became the repository for all the crap that we had to move out of the house to renovate it. Finally we emptied the porch of the junk after 6 months of living here. Then it sat. Then this spring I pulled off the two screen doors that certainly had seen better days, and the piece of plywood covering one doorway, and things just seemed a bit better. Then, in a fit of frustration and a bit of curiosity, I pulled out one screen and wood framing around it in one of the openings. The difference was like night and day. I had to be somewhere in an hour, but I started the demo that changed the face of the back porch from ugly to tolerable.

Then-what to do with that insulbrick? We plan to reside the house in a few years, but wouldn't a little primer and paint lighten things up? So I primed, and just a few weeks ago my dad painted, the porch. Wow. And then, though I'm not a big fan of outdoor carpet, I patched the concrete and covered up that mess with some fine synthetics which are waiting to be glued down. What a huge difference this has made on the old house. And the nice thing is that everyone has to use this door...so it's more than just nice to look at. The pictures are the progression from ugly this spring to about perfect this fall. The wife has decorating ideas, but a few pumpkins added about all the charm it needed. Now to paint the doors.

Art Saves Kewanna

2011-09-21T10:17:00.003-04:00

I don't typically send out kudos here on HH, but I was made aware this morning that Kewanna, a small town in northwestern Fulton County, is the recipient of yet another great downtown "save" by their summer-resident artist.

Several years ago Diane Tesler, an artist from Virginia, started a preservation boom in this little rural farming community. Spending her summers in Indiana, and drawing inspiration from the countryside, Tesler has made significant investments in Kewanna. One of her largest projects was the restoration of the town's Odd Fellows Hall. She has just embarked on the restoration of the town's cool-looking (to me) Masonic Hall.

Having taken the leisurely drive between Culver and Logansport on Highway 17, I was introduced to Kewanna and Grass Creek over a decade ago. Today it is a drive I find opportunity to take as often as possible. The one building that always caught my attention was this great old lodge hall on the west side of 17 (photo of the "before")....I've even featured it before on HH. So, seeing a picture of it today come across the wire, with its true facade finally revealed from beneath a bad aluminum job from the 60s, you can imagine I was pretty pumped.

Hat's off to Diane and all the work she's done to preserve the buildings in Kewanna, and the Hoosier landscape portrayed in her work. Her website is: http://www.dianetesler.com/

The hot air behind wind energy

2011-09-14T15:40:00.005-04:00

I am an environmentalist. A few right-wingers out there are salivating over the fact that I just admitted that, and no doubt it will come back to haunt me somewhere down the line. I remember the first time I said those exact words. It was in front of Republicania County's Drainage Board when I challenged the 19th century dredging philosophy still in use which was causing ever-increasing flooding in River City.

So, naturally, I would be the first to embrace massive wind towers across our Hoosier landscape, right? Well, much like the fervor behind the ethanol business only four short years ago (remember that? it was going to solve our dependency on foreign oil), I question the authenticity of any "get on the band wagon" energy plan. Naturally, any undertaking of such magnitude has to be profitable to work. But just like an ethanol plant shouldn't be plopped down just in any 'ol location.....neither should the newest commercial venture in dependency-free energy.

The wind energy debate landed in Republicania County and has risen to a boiling point since discussions about towers shooting up east of a lake resort community began several months ago. Now, I'm not opposed to wind energy towers.....but to somehow equate them to grandpa's windmill on the 'ol homestead is ludicrous. Grandpa's windmill couldn't be seen 3 miles away. Our wind energy ordinance requires that towers not be placed any closer than 1,000 feet from a home. Now, that's less than a quarter mile away (roughly 4 city blocks). Why should home owner's have the enjoyment of their property, and its cash value, be lessened just so a farmer (maybe, or maybe just a guy who purchased enormous tracts of land) and a large corporation can make some serious cash? These are massive commercial undertakings with little local benefit.

Top photo is off the massive wind farm stetching for miles along the South Dakota/Minnesota border. The photo above is the wind farm constructed along I-65 northwest of Lafayette.

My friends on the clean energy side of this debate need to come to terms with the prospect of a potential for windmills randomly placed throughout the county. SMART planning, something our county has failed to do since we adopted zoning in the 1970s, would create zones based on wind maps, and then make the commercial towers only acceptable in those locations with no deviation. 1,000 feet from any residence? That's even less than wind energy corporations' OWN standards. Frankly, there should be a push to place these near or in our industrial or highway commercial areas......this is far more appropriate in land use.

I've had several people ask me to weigh in on our county's wind energy debate, to which I've said that if I could trust our county to do the right thing, I'd be all for it. I've even looked out my windows and thought...hmmm.....1,000' could drop a tower very close....but I found a few acceptable locations that a wind farm could locate in my view. I fully support exploration in renewable energy, including wind, but there are appropriate places for any such initiative. This is not NIMBY, this is simply doing what is right, for everyone, all the way around.

9/11 Then and Now

2011-09-09T10:38:00.007-04:00

A few days ago while driving in the central part of the state and listening to Hoosier Country the dj posed the question "do we need to be bombarded with images from 9/11?" His point was that it was in the past and the feelings that reliving that horrific day in American history could do more harm than good. In fact he commented that a number of psychologists recommended not watching 9/11 footage because of the anxiety, depression, and rage that may ensue.

I remember the week following 9/11 hearing similar comments. The footage of that darkest day was broadcasted 24/7 and helplessly we watched. But I think something remarkable came out of that in the days and weeks to follow. We became One Nation. We became compassionate and sacrificial. And yes, knowing we had a common enemy, we became determined.

But in the months to follow 9/11 the determination swelled into hatred in some American hearts. And a year after 9/11 it seemed that "the day that would change a Nation forever" had changed us, but not into the character developed in the days after 9/11. While I absolutely believe that fighting terrorism on an international scale had to be done, I wonder about the war at home.

Patriotism defined in this post-9/11 world is vastly different from what we witnessed in the days after the sky fell, and nearly opposite of the heartbeat of the Greatest Generation's defining moment. During the days of World War II the homefront was characterized by sacrifice, conservation, and neighbors caring for each other. Today, in the throws of this 10 year war, hearts beat with anger and selfishness. Too strong and generalizing? I don't think so, not after listening to the divisive rhetoric being spewed by politicians and pundits.

Think about the calls for sacrifice during World War II. Think about the propaganda several months after 9/11. The government and corporations were asking us to go out and spend our money. This was patriotism redefined. Fifty years ago we understood the value of collectively educating our children. Today patriotism seems defined by taking a knife to the throat of public education. Individualists did not build this country, as much as we like to think they did.....patriotism is not the dismantling of Social Security, public education, or government in general. In fact, I think it is quite the opposite. Even in my young, right-wing Rush days, I would never have been convinced that what is being proposed by today's conservatives is the right path for a great Nation.

As I thought about the question the dj posed, and having already seen tremendous replay of footage from September 11th, I thought to myself "God, don't let me forget"....don't let me forget the tremendous culture of heroism, compassion, and sacrifice our country experienced in the days following its aftermath. The 10th anniversary of 9/11 could be the cultural equivalent of a hundred years removed from that day. If it did indeed change us........God help us for what it seems to have changed us into.

Blueberry Memories...going with the theme

2011-09-02T08:14:00.003-04:00

It may be the heat, or I may be getting lazy, but here are a couple of posts in fond reflection of the madness known as the Blueberry Festival. Congratulations to this year's parade Grand Marshal, a good friend and director of the Marshall County Historical Society & Museum.

http://hoosierhappenings.blogspot.com/2008/09/if-i-could-be-that-guy.html

http://hoosierhappenings.blogspot.com/2009/04/blueberry-hank-rip.html

Kristian Stanfill - Always (Live)

2011-08-29T07:15:00.000-04:00

Why Jesus is the Answer...to Perry

2011-08-24T13:28:00.004-04:00

You know me. I purposefully avoid politics as much as possible, but I do "enjoy" watching politics play out on the national scene particularly with a presidential election looming next year. But I will be honest...you could have asked me who Rick Perry was several weeks ago and I would have said "dunno". Maybe that is how people view Mitch outside of Hoosierdom.

But then came his announcement calling for a day of prayer in the Lone Star state and soon the hype on Perry escalated to a fervor in anticipation of his declaring a run for president. People were comparing him to Reagan and questioned if this day of prayer could distance him from the center of the GOP. Calling for the abolishment of the Department of Education, you would think, would push him even farther from center.

But I think people forget what race Perry is trying to win. Not only do you need to look far to the right, you better have some extreme ideas in this political climate. Perry is playing to the Tea Party and Evangelicals. Frankly, he could win with one or the other's support, but since there is no one in the Republican field courting evangelicals-I could go out on a limb here and say he may well have the nomination wrapped up. Perry will appear left of Bachman, assuming her shooting star hasn't fizzled by the end of the year, but still far right to gain Tea Party supporters that may come to realize Bachman is terribly unqualified.

People on the left are afraid of Perry. Maybe legitimately so, I don't know. The thing that makes me want to puke (yes, I'm using that strong of a word) concerning Perry is his political strategy. I think we are used to politicians invoking the name of God to score political points, but c'mon, seriously, Perry calls for a day of prayer one week prior to his big announcement? When asked what he would be asking prayer for he said economic prosperity. What? Where is that in the Bible, or is Perry a believer in the prosperity doctrine? And why wait until this stage of the game to ask for a day of prayer (obvious answer), why not 2008?

I feel so strongly that the church, and particularly Evangelicals, need to extract themselves not just from the GOP, but politics in general, if they ever hope to be the salt and light God called them to be. Christians falling victim to wolves in sheep's clothing, like Governor Perry, is proof of the warning in Scripture that God's children will be led away from the truth of God. The Church in America is at deadly tipping point and I believe that Christ has been calling for His bride to stop playing the whore to politics. If you're reading this and you are incensed, good. Spend some time reading through the Bible and let me know what from Christ's sermon on the mount runs parallel to Republican party politics. We've sold out to it and it is an anti-Christ-model agenda. What concerns me most is that it may take the nation's full embrace, and subsequent failure, of this agenda before the church can truly be broken.

The Back to School Blues

2011-08-17T14:58:00.006-04:00

checking on her flower garden

I hated going back to school when I was a kid. It was like impending doom as soon as August 1st rolled around and I dreaded any time we drove past LaPaz Elementary. Then as I entered Junior High and High School, the impending doom began about May 1st when I preferred to just stay in school-even though I loved the summer.

Now that I have kids of my own, two very differently tempered kids but both with their father's sense of humor, I could feel the tension around the house this morning with it being the first day back to school. But it was dad and mom that had the blues. I think the boy was nervous-his first day at intermediate school, and my daughter, who got to celebrate her 9th birthday by going back to school...ughh, I think was looking forward to it.

learning to whittle

I have to admit that while settling into a new, much quieter, routine working from home is going to have some benefits, I had some uneasiness sending the boy off to that next stage of his life, and knowing my baby girl was turning 9 today pretty much did me in......especially when my wife sent a message that she was a teary-eyed mess after dropping the kids off. Hmm...what's changed?

This summer was rough, both emotionally and because our schedules seemed to be packed full of something going on all the time. We wrapped up our vacation last week and presto-the summer was over. Maybe it is all of the gray hairs I seem to have gotten over the last two years, the occaisonal aches and pains, too many funerals this summer, a high sense of weariness of the world around me, or knowing that my kids are growing up way too fast.....but it seemed to hit me hard today.

I pray that my kids do well. That they cling to God every step of the way and not let others define who they are. But mostly I pray that I don't screw them up too badly as we continue to move, quickly, through this life. The one thing that I've tried to do, having felt this way for a while now, is find an opportunity to grab both my kids together and give them a big hug and say that I have the best kids in the world and that I love them. It's about all we can do.

Kayaking the Eel River

2011-08-12T12:12:00.004-04:00

Yellow, check. Sugar, check. Tippecanoe, check. Kayaking the Eel River, check.

In an effort to get to know Indiana's waterways, and to satisfy the need to hear water lapping the sides of my kayak, I headed out for a four hour trip on the Eel River with a few guys two weeks ago. The trip took us through northern Wabash County from Laketon, near North Manchester, to Stockdale at the Miami County line, near Roann. Had we known the trip would have been as short as it was, we likely would have stayed in to Mexico (Indiana, of course).

The hot weather of a few weeks ago was the perfect climate for kayaking. The water was cool and invited more than one dip and swim to the other side. The current was steady until we got to the dam at Stockdale, where the river widened out and slowed down considerably. This stretch of river offered pristine woodlands with virtually no development. Near the end of the excursion we crossed beneath the Roann Covered Bridge and ended at the historic Stockdale Mill. No tangles, no portaging, and very little in the way of scraping bottom. Perfect. We concluded the outing with a stayover at Chain of Lakes State Park-really nice camp site and not a long hike to the fresh coffee brewed at the campstore in the morning.

I hope to cruise down several more rivers in the coming years. I have my sights set on Wildcat Creek next so that my Facebook status can state I "tamed the Wildcat".

three years ago today.....

2011-08-01T07:36:00.004-04:00

The first project out on my own was a National Register nomination for the Koerting House in Elkhart. It was designed in 1937 by Alden Dow, one of Frank Lloyd Wright's most accomplished proteges.

The owner made a mean martini, also a first for me.

Another anniversary to celebrate here on Sycamore Hill. It was three years ago today that I walked across the threshold of my former employer's office door for the last time. It was a rather anti-climatic moment considering it was the only job I had known since college and twelve of the best years of my life. Married, bought our first home, celebrated the births of both our children, good elections and bad...and a whopping 10 minute round-trip commute on foot.

But it was liberating as well. I had no job to go to and no real plans to work for myself. I had a small project a friend asked me to do for their organization a few months earlier, but it would hardly pay the bills. But that first day I didn't go to work a second little job came in, then a third, and then....well, I figured I would ride it as far as it would go even though an architect friend of mine told me a few weeks later that August 2008 was the worse time to be going out on your own.

She had it wrong, 2010 was the worse time to be out on your own. 2009 was a stellar year and 2010 was not. But all the way back in January I realized 2011 would turn out all right. Hence the business principle of averages. Thank God I remembered something from my previous degree, which finally was put to use.

Speaking of God, a number of people have commented about the faith I must have had to start my own business. Well, I'll let you in on a secret. I can't consider it a step of faith when I was pushed by God. There didn't seem to be a choice in the matter, so I want to give credit where credit is due and God certainly gets all the credit here. He made the decision obvious, and He has always been the one to provide.

I love what I do. Maybe my work wouldn't appeal to you, but having the opportunity to travel all over the state, working in large and small communities, with a lot of like-minded people has given me a little hope for Indiana. I've enjoyed the dozens of histories explored, the architecture revealed, and new creations that rise from the ground. I've enjoyed linking our stories together across the state to reveal what makes us unique. And I've enjoyed going to work some days in nothing but shorts or my pajamas.

So, here's to three great years....and hoping for many more (retirement age is now 80, right?).

700 in 4

2011-07-24T15:09:00.007-04:00

All right, it's time to look back. July 20th and this post mark another milestone for Hoosier Happenings. This past week HH celebrated 4 years of rambling and this post makes the 700th dribble. Both seem a bit hard to believe.....hard to believe I've kept this up for the last four years and have found 700 things to post about.

It's foggy out right now....but in that cool beautiful sort of way. It's also a bit foggy inside. I started this post yesterday and have kept going back to it in my head and have started over several times. Yesterday was a strange day. We woke up to news that my wife's grandmother passed away. Which it then dawned on me when my family gathered together to celebrate my mom's birthday last night that it was also same day my grandfather passed away. Add to that the sort of surreal nature of having our church service in the park with storms looming and then I began to understand why the former ending of this post went the way it did. So I re-wrote it, again. What you won't know is what is Sunday or Monday's tone.

Anyhow, (I don't know that I've ever typed that before) I searched Bing.com for images related to 700. I got photos of Pat Robertson and the 700 pound man. Neither seemed to relate to what I wanted to express, though Pat has been featured on past posts. So I settled on a "looking back" photo. When I started HH in July of 2007 I tried to maintain some anonymity, as well as some class. Many of the posts were raw and a few hit some nerves, I know. And I don't apologize. And as for anonymity-well, anyone who knows me has already figured out who Hoosier Reborn is.

Strangely enough, I still run into folks who tell me that they read this, even though most experts would say blogging is dead. Just last week at the fair I had someone say that they read this all the time. That was news to me. And at my school reunion I had more than one person tell me to keep blogging. So I figure I have roughly the same number of readers as our local paper, so of course I'm obligated to put out the news.

Lately my posts have centered around places and culture in Indiana. Which that's cool and all-but I'd like to get back to more stories on faith and let loose with some political banter. But I feel rather uninspired with those topics because it just seems pointless. Then I go back to.....why did I start this thing in the first place. Well, mostly for myself I guess. But at the same time, I'd like to think that exposing the few people who do read this to new ideas on faith and politics might just help shape change. I'm certain this is how the Tea Party got its start.

Recently I saw someone's blog turned into a book....like a real, live, paper filled with ink sort of book. That concept seems a bit strange since books are becoming paperless like a blog; regardless, I wondered what if I took all of those 700 random stories and aligned them into their general topics-could they be book-worthy? Probably not. But it did give me a very different way to think of blogging and maybe helped redefine my purpose a little.

I appreciate everyone who reads this. I'd like to be a bit more edgy when it comes to faith and politics. I'd like to be a bit more in depth when it comes to culture and cover a wider range of topics. But more than anything I'd like to know that I've pricked the consciousness of those who take the time to read this. I am not a good writer by any stretch of the imagination....I'm not even sure that anyhow is a word.....but just like most hobbies, blogging has brought a great deal of satisfaction personally. We'll have another self-evaluation at 1000.

you did what? visited mausoleums?

2011-07-22T12:22:00.009-04:00

Occasionally I have "firsts" even at 40+. Standing beside a woman in the Butler Mausoleum on Wednesday I admitted to another first and she seemed unable to believe I had never been in a mausoleum before. In fact, I think I said I was creeped out as we stood in front of one open, but thank God, empty, crypt.

My thinking is that I can't believe people have been.

But, there I was, standing toe to toe....well, sort of, with row upon row of folks who had passed to the other side. Thankfully they were sealed up tight in precast vaults with a piece of shiny white marble laid at their feet, or heads depending on which side of the aisle they were.

But, just like Pringles potato chips, I couldn't stop at one. No, in fact I visited four mausoleums that day, all in DeKalb County. Waterloo, Auburn, and Garret also have these apartments for the deceased. One we did not have the ability to go inside, the others I received the grand tour. Why would I do this? That's a good question. I was asked to survey their architectural design and make a few inquiries to their historical importance.

Now, maybe this goes to the whole look of surprise when I said I had never been in a mausoleum before, but for some reason the folks in DeKalb County jumped on the mausoleum bandwagon much earlier than most small towns in Indiana. One industrious fellow by the name of Frank Emerick (intombed in Butler's) promoted these for the Buckeye Mausoleum Company and the four were built between 1915 and 1922. And don't get the impression that these are small family vault style structures. These house 100+ deceased and one was so elaborate to even include a marble fireplace.....I guess if they get cold?

I'm not aware of, outside larger metro cities in Indiana, other structures like this from this early of a period existing anywhere else in Hoosierdom. These definitely are classy little places. Mosaic tiled floors, beautiful stained glass windows, tiled roofs, marble throughout, granite and limestone....these things were built with more pizazz than most churches or banks of their time. Still, I couldn't get over the urge to whisper and I stayed near the center of the aisle-just in case.

a"round" the barn

2011-07-19T15:50:00.008-04:00

After being hounded by the Thursday morning coffee clutchers to clean the remaining hay out of our barn, I set to task this past Saturday. I summoned a couple of hired hands to make the process go a little quicker. Four hours later we had made a sizable dent in the last and final bay filled with hay. A little less than half the hay remains. 40 whole bales were removed, and about 240 broken bales were forked onto the back of a truck and hauled to a pile in the pasture.

That will be some kind of fire.

Within an hour one of the hired hands lost a leg through a few open floor boards. A short time later I lost a leg, and was fortunate to not lose my whole self through the hole I "discovered". We turned our attention to the southeast corner of the barn and began pitching hay down to the truck below. Once we had the bed filled with the first load I suggested the guys unload it and I would stay back and pitch more hay over the side beams so that it would be easier to get to. And then I said:

"Do you hear that?"

"it's a car going by"

long pause......I put my head down closer to the pile of hay

"no, it isn't fading out"

"it sounds like water running through a storm pipe" of course, there is no water out at the barn, and it was hot and dry that day

hired hand leans in for a listen

"it sounds like bees" he says calmly

"bees!" I exclaim, and back away

We quit working in that corner. The three of us loaded into the cab of the old blue pickup truck and headed into town for lunch. Covered in hay dust and sweat we sauntered into Taco Bell and ordered the XXL combo. Yep, we looked the part of Hoosier farmers.

And I'm really looking forward to having the barn cleaned out, bees and all. Though having a hive around for the orchard would probably be a good thing.

a Hoosier "crop circle"

For you city folk out there.....

2011-07-15T09:31:00.005-04:00

The county 4H Fair is in full swing this week. There was the antique tractor parade and the country church orchestra peforming such songs as the theme to Star Trek-both events are always huge draws, but it was the "pig scramble" that had folks packing the grandstandsands Thursday night. So for the benefit of you city folk out there I decided to share what we allow our kids to do for fun on the farm. The goat dragging competition will follow. No pigs were harmed in the filming of this video.

a spectacular find INDEEDsville

2011-07-11T08:06:00.009-04:00

While Mexico may win the contest for most noticeable sign along 31, the little sign marked DEEDSVILLE pointing east stokes my curiosity each time I pass by. I had a project to visit in Wabash last Thursday and wanted to Mapquest it for my own peace of mind to know how much time to allot. Oddly enough Mapquest routed me through Deedsville, along a county road. That seemed odd to me and knowing that Mapquest has gotten me lost before, I switched the route to stay on the highways and it added time. So evidently the quickest way to Wabash from my house is through Deedsville.
So I left a cushion of time when I left the house just in case this shortcut wasn't all that Mapquest claimed it would be and drove at a crawl looking for the county road marked Deedsville thata way. And this is what I found in Deedsville.

The little town in northeast Miami County was platted by a couple of fellows named Deeds and Leedy who persuaded the Cincinnati, Chicago, and Louisville (later the Nickel Plate) Railroad to pass through their land in 1870. I wonder why Deeds got the honor of the town being named for him. Why not a combination of the two names? Deedleedville? or just Eedville? The town never grew beyond its original boundaries but remained the little hub for the larger farming community. A fire in 1941 wiped out much of the commercial center of town, though a few buildings remain-one housing the post office, and school consolidation took away the towns identity-though a muddled piece of their school history remains on the east side of town.

Today the Rochester to Peru bikeway runs through the heart of Deedsville, right past the old grain elevator and within eyeshot of the post office. I guess if you've picked up a post card on your bike trip-this would be a great place to mail it from....hey kids! We're passing through Deedsville!

Of course, not far beyond Deedsville where the county road joined with Highway 16, the state had the route detoured. Trusting in my own navigational instincts I traveled county roads until I found my way to highway 15. On my return trip I followed a different route which landed me on a gravel road only to have the woods open up in front of me to reveal this spectacular find.

The bridge on county road 950 North crosses the Eel River. A little sleuthing revealed that it is the oldest Pratt through truss bridge in Indiana fabricated by the Pan American Bridge Company in 1903. It is a real beauty.

Define patriotism.

2011-07-05T06:51:00.006-04:00

What is patriotism? I wonder if somewhere along the way we began to confuse, or maybe muddy the waters of our national understanding of what it means to be a patriot. I think most people accurately identify the men and women who serve in the armed forces as patriots. And I suppose love of country certainly has something to do with it.

But what are we in love with? Do we cheer for America as if it were our hometown basketball team on a Saturday night or the Colts on Sunday afternoon? Do we love the idea that we can buy anything we want or do anything we want? That seems like a pretty selfish mindset and selfishness would seem the opposite of patriot, which has to conjure up thoughts of selflessness and sacrifice. Do we wrap ourselves in the flag and treat patriotism as if it were some sort of cheap commodity to be identified with?

America has been heading down the wrong road for some time now, or maybe I should be more accurate and say that as a people we have been taking America down the wrong path. These freedoms that we enjoy and the corporate will to protect them is something entrusted to us from generation to generation. The ideals that set America apart from the rest of the world are packed with opportunity for good. But just as explosive are the possibilities for corruption, greed, and abuse.

Christians understand the term "freedom in Christ". It is used to describe the grace we are extended even when we make mistakes because we are God's own. Too often though freedom in Christ is abused as a license to do wrong, and unfortunately the rest of the world sees that and contemplates how we are any different.

I think freedoms come with great responsibility. In fact I think that "freedom" requires great restraint, compassion, discipline, ethics, tolerance, sacrifice, understanding, and maybe most importantly stewardship. I believe that these terms describe a patriot and acting in this way would then be "patriotism". So tell me, how do these words reflect Americans today? I know I've said before the greatest enemy of our democracy is capitalism without ethics.

I don't wholly accept that the America of my grandparents' generation, or of my earliest ancestors who landed in harbors along the east coast, was this land I long for. Comments like "returning this nation back to God" make me roll my eyes when I consider our past marked with slavery, segregation, or removal of the American Indians. The Church is who needs to return to God. No, instead I think that the ideals set out in 1776 are yet to be fully realized. If you ask me what I love about my country, I think that is it. It is the opportunity for good that corporately we possess. Not selfish ambition disguised as personal liberty, but the individual responsibility and freedom each of us has for compassion, tolerance, stewardship and all those others. I think in acting on those will we find true patriotism.

south of the border

2011-06-29T08:50:00.008-04:00

Peru, Chili, LaPaz, Mexico......who hasn't driven up and down US 31 in Indiana and wondered if they somehow crossed the border? Or driven past this sign and said, hey, we're only a half mile from Mexico!

Yesterday while traveling, uh, south, I decided on my return trip I would make a short side-trip to Mexico. I remember doing this once before-a long time ago-and visiting this little town on Old 31, now, and maybe originally known as the Mexico Road. Mexico was founded in 1834 by the Wilkinson brothers who believed its location on the west bank of the Eel River was a profitable location to start a town. All of Mexico consists of about two downtown blocks and a handful of churches that want to let passers-by on US 31 know that they are welcome.

Do you ever get that urge while driving 31 to just pull over and visit a church? Evidently some of you do because I see this marketing plan used in a number of small towns.

There was a building that clearly was a bank on the southwest corner (1914), replaced by a newer bank on the southeast corner, now converted to the volunteer fire department's training facility. There was a small, well-kept little commercial block on the northeast corner; it has a small walk-up window like an old-fashioned Dairy Queen. The proprietor of this building came out to greet me. Not many folks stop and take pictures in Mexico, I'm sure. He asked if I knew what was going on with the building across the street. I told him I was a multi-millionaire and planned to drop some significant cash into it, then I said, no, just stopped through to take photos.

The block of commercial buildings across the street (northwest corner if you are keeping track geographically) had clearly seen better days but probably best represented the wealth of Mexico's past. What struck me was the main building, the joint venture between Mexico's Masonic and Odd Fellows' Lodges in 1889. They must have gotten along better than Kiwanis and Rotarians do today. The brickwork in the top of the building was unusual and maybe the most striking feature was the wood-crafted building sign board. Typically these were made out of some form of metal-usually zinc, or limestone. But the brotherhoods of Mexico chose to create their sign boards out of wood with raised wood details and carved wood lettering. Unfortunately a great deal of the wood details are falling victim to time and neglect. All four buildings in this business block were vacant and the curious proprietor told me most of them had some level of roof failure.

I personally don't like to see any community lose its architectural identity. If Mexico lost these, how would you know you were in Mexico?

correspondence of a square peg

2011-06-24T12:02:00.006-04:00

June 1

Dear Sir,

Please be aware that your status with our unnamed state agency will need to be updated by the end of this month. Please go on-line and insert peg into hole.

June 8

Dear Unnamed,

Please confirm that you received my peg. Be aware that I have a square peg and it does not fit neatly into the round hole.

June 12

Dear Sir,

We received your on-line update, however the peg did not fit neatly into the hole. Please try again to insert peg into hole. You may wish to review our requirements for pegs at blahblahblah.com

June 14

Dear Unnamed,

I have reviewed the requirements at blahblahblah; these are not applicable to square pegs. Could you identify exactly how you wish for me to insert my peg.

June 16,

Dear Sir,

Please insert your square peg into the round hole. If you are having problems with this action, please contact Joe Blow at joeblow.roundpeg.

June 17,

Dear Joe Blow,

I have been asked to update my status with your unnamed state agency by inserting my square peg into the round hole. Could you please assist me in doing so?

June 20,

Dear Sir,

I have no record that your square peg ever fit into our round hole. Please insert the appropriate peg into the hole. JB

June 20,

Dear Joe Blow,

Attached is a certification letter from your unnamed state agency documenting that my square peg fit into the round hole. Please provide detailed information on how you wish for me to proceed.

June 22,

Dear Sir,

See my previous response. JB

June 23,

Dear Unnamed,

Please find enclosed documents stating that a square peg cannot fit into a round hole. Also enclosed is a document from your agency that states that my square peg qualified for the requirements of the hole and that I am a certified hole-filler for your unnamed agency. Please indicate if you wish for me to pretend to be a round peg.

The problem with certain unnamed state agencies is that they cost the taxpayer more by requiring only round pegs be used.....about 100% more! If Mitch is serious about reform of state government and saving tax dollars he needs to change the hole-filling requirements of his bureaucracy.

Legacy Makers

2011-06-22T10:57:00.007-04:00

Few people made me feel more welcome when I moved to River City 15 years ago than a couple of older gentlemen and their wives. Both were civic leaders I had the great pleasure of working with over the years, and had the unfortunate opportunity to say goodbye to both in the last week.

News of the first one's passing came as a shocking sting since I had seen him only the week before and he seemed his normal jovial and mischievous self. Just before attending his funeral, word came of the second one's death. River City lost a couple of greats that week. For me, memories were brought back to mind with tidbits of wisdom sprinkled in.

Bill offered sage advice on politics.....but probably the wisdom imparted that stuck with me the most was his comment that he was so thankful he lost his re-election bid for city council 50+ years ago. I find some comfort in that. He also was a collector-of everything it seemed. Finally when his wife said it was time to clean out the basement and closets, our family was the recipient of many of his archives....well, old magazines and other "treasures". He would show up at my office with a box load of things and say "Betty tells me its time to clean out another closet". This happened every few months over the years and I have to say, we did end up with some pretty cool stuff. I think my favorite was when he showed up with a box of old cassette tapes that his son had recorded Prairie Home Companion shows on from the 1980s.

Jim had so many stories to tell....some of them true. And he wasn't from this politically correct generation, as he referred to me as the "little Hindu". I'm about as Anglo-Saxon as they come, but evidently didn't look so to Jim. I called his office once and complained about how the city fixed the flooding in the viaduct in front of our house. He asked me if it was because I didn't have anywhere for my camel to get a drink. I teared up once when I read a speech for my great aunt upon her being awarded the Sagamore of the Wabash. He took me aside and said he was going to have to toughen me up for politics.

Both were remarkable men of another generation, and different sides of the aisles. Both wanted what was best for River City and offered about all the encouragement I could have asked for. I wonder in those 91 and 83 years if there were rough edges that were worn down, if there were times when hope seemed lost, or opportunities to say "forget this". I mentioned to my wife the other day that for the last 15 years I've lived my life for everyone else and it was time to start thinking about us. She said that was contrary to the message on Sunday. Oh sure, bring God into this.....as if He's not on my case already.

Goodbye Bill and Jim. Thanks for making this outsider feel welcome and an integral part of a city that needs to live up to the legacy you left it.

Sunrise on the Hill

2011-06-16T08:36:00.008-04:00

I meet a couple of guys most Thursday mornings for coffee. It started at a local coffee shop several years ago, then moved to Marbucks a few years later. Late last summer one of the guys suggested we have coffee in my barn. He even offered his wife's baked items as a lure. I said sure and set up a couple of chairs and a makeshift table constructed from a very old saw horse and an 8' x 18" oak plank.

That first coffee in the barn was accompanied by a pretty amazing sunrise. So we opened all four large barn doors and took in the sights and smells of an Indiana summer morning in the country. We continued meeting there until both darkness and chill put a damper on things.

Well yesterday I suggested that we resume coffees in the barn this morning. I brewed the coffee and placed it in a large thermos and found a few mugs. When I walked out the back door I was awestruck looking out across the back pasture from our back porch. The warm golden sun was casting long shadows across the lawn and pasture, and a patchy fog was moving across the ground. It was sun-drenched and radiated that golden color.

I hiked up the hill leading to the barn and rolled open the large barn doors, which startled the Red Tailed Hawk that perches daily on the ridge of the barn. The breeze blew through the old oak timbers and captured the smell of hay and sweet grass. With the barn swallows darting through and the bright sun peeking between the cracks of the barn siding, coffees resumed on the Hill.

I don't know what your ideal Indiana is, but this is mine.

LaPorte's front door

2011-06-08T13:02:00.004-04:00

Anyone who has traveled into LaPorte on highway 35 knows this scene well. There are probably very few really spectacular barns that form gateways into modern cities. LaPorte is fortunate to have maybe one of the most unusual barns at their southern edge.....the edge of the prairie.

The Door Prairie Barn was constructed in 1882 for Marion Ridgway, whose grandfather had owned the property clear back to 1831. John Jeffrey built the nine-sided barn, but it appears to have been his only attempt at such a project. Nine sides? I guess there were plenty of options for which corner to, er, uh....well. Multi-sided barns are pretty rare and had just come into fashion when this was built. Round barns came a bit later with the height of their construction occurring in about 1905. The Kesling Family of LaPorte restored the Door Prairie Barn in 2001, and it has been placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

One Munster Shrine

2011-06-02T17:05:00.007-04:00

Last Friday I had a dreary trip across Indiana beginning at the Illinois state line and finishing at the Ohio line, all on Route 6. The company was good, and for the most part, the scenery was interesting, but it was an awful gray overcast day for taking pictures.

We hadn't gotten too far into Indiana from Illinois when this happy steer put a smile on my face despite the gloomy skies above. A bit further down the road my observant driver spotted Calvary on the south side of the road in Munster. What's that doing up there I wondered. Knowing that we were on a tight time frame to make it across the state during daylight hours, of course, we stopped.

And it was the best stop of the day.

We gathered up a few photos, walked briskly through the stations of the cross (backwards I think, and we missed a few....that's the trouble with us Protestants), but we couldn't help but be drawn to the unique material the shrine was made from during the 1950s. Sponge rock from Arkansas. Never heard of it. But it was used in masterful precision. I was headed back to the car when my driver (sounds like I'm Amish) began talking to some older gentlemen who looked like they were heading off to do some important work. They planned to spend the day in the tomb switching light bulbs. What? So they invited us into the tomb below Calvary and it was one of the more impressive places I think I've been in here in ol' Indiana.

Now, my pictures (stupid camera) didn't do this place justice. It was really quite remarkable. I went online and found this link that has a little better photography than my orange blurs, and more history: http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/11529 . I think what was so amazing was the use of light and stone together in the tomb. And just so that you don't think I wasn't reverent, I asked if it was ok to take pictures, and I did spend a little contemplative time before rolling the stone away and getting back on Route 6.

The one picture that turned out perfectly was the one of my hand. I was inspired with all kinds of thoughts and spiritual applications when I placed my hand on the stone, unfortunately they escape me now. I'll be sure to post more on my travels on Route 6 soon.

Random things from the Hill

2011-05-25T14:35:00.004-04:00

I feel like things are starting to become a blur. I've hardly caught my breath with how busy I have been and how much I'm trying to get done at Sycamore Hill. We have the garden in and much weeding is in our future. We landscaped the west and north sides of the house (when we moved in there was some overgrown prickly landscaping on the south side in about 12" of sparkly quartz stone and that was it).

We found scads of mushrooms here this year. 80 around one tree in our yard alone. We also found trespassers on our property while we were looking for the tasty little morsels. After three batches I had had my fill until next year.

This past weekend we acted on a rather good idea I had earlier in the week, if I do say so myself. We have a basketball rim that was intended to go up in the barn but the floor is too uneven so I planned to put it on the garage-but there is no concrete there....yet. So when I was mowing the path to the lower level of the barn it dawned on me that there was a heck of a lot of concrete out there. So with shovels and scrapers my son and I uncovered many more square feet of concrete that has become his basketball court and I put up the rim on the barn. Where else would you put a basketball hoop in Hoosierland?

telling the Hoosier story

2011-05-18T08:01:00.007-04:00

Indiana's Cultural Tourism Conference was held on Monday in Merrillville. Since it was a short jaunt down the road, and I thought it would be good exposure to thoughts and ideas about promoting the Michigan Road and other projects I am involved in, I took the day and spent it listening to heritage and cultural tourism cheerleaders.

There were a number of messages about how to promote and market yourself, but the over-riding theme was find what makes you unique and tell the story. My mind drifted into the stories to tell from my hometown and across the state. Some places do a great job with this. We just don't.

There is something to be said of a society that is wise enough to look inside itself and celebrate the cultural heritage that has been left to them. I think that there is something even bigger to be said of a society that is blinded to its past, its' lack of depth, and the rather vanilla appearance of its place. We are missing opportunities left and right to develop the quality of life that people want. It just takes forward thinkers and good leadership to deliver it-something we seem to run from. I coined the term "brain flush" several weeks ago to describe not the accidental loss of our brightest and best, but the deliberate disposal of quality people.

Certainly not to wallow in doom and gloom, I should point out that there are several refreshing locations across our state-maybe in the most unexpected places-that "get it". It's a joy and an honor to talk and work with Hoosiers of that caliber. And if I could give Hoosier Happenings a giant pat on the back, when this blog was started almost three years ago I wanted to celebrate our culture-to tell the story of what makes us unique as Hoosiers. With nearly 700 posts under our belt, I think we've been pretty successful in doing just that. And by reading all this dribble, you are as much a contributor to the discovery as I am.

Another trip on Route 6

2011-05-09T15:30:00.007-04:00

Maybe it's because I grew up on one of the greatest coast-to-coast highways in America, or maybe it's because our family's identity was so tied to the road, but I can't hardly get enough of driving the Grand Army of the Republic Highway....Highway 6. And my grandparents must have felt the same way when they shot this picture of my uncle Michael O'Leary back in the 50s when they traveled the road to the east coast.

Several weeks ago I was asked to meet on a project and I suggested this great diner I've always wanted to stop at but never had a reason to do so. The 20th Century restaurant located at 6 and 15 is a classic late-50s diner that doesn't look like its been touched since it was first opened, even as we've embarked on a new century. This fellow I met and I talked a long time about old 6 and the role it played both in our state and nation. And that led to establishing the need to survey 6 across Indiana to see what is left from its early era. More pictures to follow!

And since I've been driving 6 so much into LaPorte County, I couldn't help but stop on this little motel just east of Walkerton. The neon as dusk is a great sight. I suppose places like the 20th Century and the Bel-Air Motel have a hard time justifying their existence in the 21st, but certainly have established themselves a special place in the heart of this old soul. I was forwarded a blogsite on Route 6-it is under "Outside Links" at the left.

Opulence in Hammond

2011-05-03T08:06:00.005-04:00

I think sometimes we forget where Indiana's place in the nation was during the roaring 20's. Opulence abounded in many up-and-coming urban areas across the state. The Calumet region, particularly Hammond and Gary, had some of the finest buildings being constructed as a sister region to the Chicago metro area. The area was not only a sizable industrial and port area, but also a significant financial center as money flowed into it.

Hohman Avenue in Hammond is a good place to start in uncovering this past. South of downtown an area developed known as Harrison Park. Served by an electric rail line the area south of the center of town became a suburb for the city's burgeoning upper and upper middle classes. Maybe two of the finest buildings constructed during the boom time sit across the street from each other: the Southmoor Hotel and the Northern States Life Insurance Company Building.

The Southmoor represents the height of Hammond’s economic success of the early 20th century and the commercial building boom that ensued. It is considered one of Hammond’s finest early hotels. Prosperity demanded all types of housing; including workers’ homes, shop keeper and other middle income earners’ housing, as well as estate housing for the affluent. Also needed during this time were apartments for Hammond’s many single and newly married populations. The Southmoor itself became a popular place for teachers to live. The Southmoor catered not only to this population, but also upscale lodging needed by visitors to Hammond for business or pleasure.

The Southmoor was positioned well on one of the city’s main thoroughfares with access to the Green Line, taking commuters not only to the downtown districts, but also with connections to other northwest Indiana cities and Chicago. The apartment building provided a more suburban setting than the downtown and had immediate access to Harrison Park. The building provided a few retail necessities, such as a beauty shop, restaurants, and dry cleaners, located in the building’s commercial space to support its residential population. Developer Leo Deutsch contracted with Gary architect L. Harry Warriner to design the five-story building in 1927. Warriner provided initial drawings late in 1927 which were revised and used for construction in March, 1928.

The company originally known as Employee’s Life and Casualty Insurance began in 1910 in a small room in the rear of Hammond Trust & Savings Bank and was born into a well-suited economic climate that would ensure its success. The originators expected it to have great appeal to the “industrial army of this region”. The company was renamed Northern States Life Insurance Company in 1913, the same year it “took its first step in reinsurance, reinsuring $1,700,000 of business of another company.” From that year forward the growth was “steady and without any high pressure…..until 1919 when the year closed with ten millions of business in force.”

In 1925 a Minneapolis based company with the same name was persuaded to consolidate with the Indiana institution, liquidating the Minneapolis firm and making the Indiana firm of Northern States a giant insurance institution of the upper Midwest, opening up licensure in the states of Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Minnesota, along with its current coverage of Indiana, Illinois and Michigan. This gave the Hammond-based company “a field of great diversity of industrial, commercial and agricultural interests.” The company had then, with the consolidation, thirty-two million dollars of insurance and total assets of about three and one-half million. The Northern States' "temple" was constructed in 1926 and rivals any building of its era in architectural excellence. The company, though boasting its economic diversity would weather any storm, was forced to close in 1930 due to the Great Depression.

Both buildings continue to be used today and are in excellent condition. They recently were placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Monterey Bandstand

2011-04-27T07:20:00.005-04:00

There are so few of these historic little Victorian-era bandstands remaining in Indiana. It was refreshing to see this little guy as I rounded the corner and found it standing in the middle of Kleckner Park on the banks of the Tippecanoe in the little town of Monterey in northeastern Pulaski County. In 1982 David Dixon created a survey of bandstands in central and northern Indiana; only 14 were accounted for and Monterey's was the only one of the Victorian period, constructed in about 1910.

Communities used the structures for town bands, orators and politicians to entertain or connect with the public. Town bands became particularly popular during the late 1800s and into the early part of the 1900s and drove the need for many of these structures as performance stages in public spaces. The architectural type also followed the garden city, or city beautiful, concept of creating public places of respite or recreation. Such places as parks and public squares required an elevated place for viewing or from which to view the surrounding area. The bandstands were places to see and be seen. No doubt, the burgeoning little town of Monterey needed one of these public spaces and in the early 20th century Adam Kleckner donated a four acre tract of ground to the Town of Monterey for use as a park on the opposite side of the Tippecanoe River. The bandstand quickly followed.

Very little is known about the man who was the builder of the Monterey Bandstand. Abraham R. Hay was born in Indiana in 1852. His father was a native of Pennsylvania and his mother was a native of Germany. Hay was living in Pulaski County when his wife, Isabelle, filed for divorce in 1875; at that time Hay would have been approximately 23 years old. Abraham Hay is listed in the 1910 census for Monterey as a boarder. He was living with Mary Eikelburner, age 65, and her son and his family. Their residence was 52 Main Street. Hay’s marital status is listed as divorced; his occupation is listed as “carpenter of houses” and he was actively working at the time of the census. Abraham Hay died on September 3, 1939.

Bethel II

2011-04-18T07:21:00.007-04:00

By my Senior year at Bethel a group spun off of our new Circle K Club to operate the Acorn, though that board and the club’s board shared some members….me being one. Fred became a good friend of mine; he was a fellow business major and Senior, and he became the president of the K club while I was treasurer. Faith also became a good friend and served as either vice-president or secretary, I don't recall but frankly she picked up everything Fred and I didn't do. I was the main manager of the Acorn, with a number of others heading up other areas. It was my time with the group managing the Acorn that brings back the best memories from my Senior year. We brought in a juke box, revamped the kitchen to offer actual food, instituted “Saturday Night Live at the Acorn”, obviously a spin off a program on NBC that will go unnamed in case of copyright infringement. We invited bands and had talent nights and packed the student union. And we actually were making money-well, the student union was. My good friends and cohorts were Scott and Ingrid (who became Mrs. Scott), Amy, and Mark. And by the way, this Acorn has no ties to local terrorist organizations, not that I was aware of anyway.

By my Senior year Bethel was brought back from the brink. Student enrollment was up to about a thousand, a few thousand short of today's enrollment, and discussions began about how to plan the campus for the future. I ran for Senior class treasurer and won, and by virtue of my role with the Acorn was able to sit in student leadership meetings. I was nominated for Homecoming King, but fell short with the votes, probably 15 like in my council race! I think I lost it with my “blood for oil” comment concerning the Persian Gulf War during the assembly interview. Still, it was an honor being the only off-campus student nominated for the court. Speaking of court, it was the Bethel basketball games that really got the heart pumpin’ and probably had the best influence on student morale.

Mark, from the Acorn, was a class A prankster and looking back, though I don’t regret anything, I realize we could have gotten into serious trouble. Besides dumpster diving abroad, we commandeered sacred Bethel ephemera and framed fellow students by placing the materials in their dorm rooms (see top picture!). We held chair races on the sidewalks that followed some of the hilly terrain outside the library using the Board of Directors comfy chairs that had coasters….until we broke one. We hid that chair for a few months until the week before graduation and attempted to glue it back together then very carefully placed it back in the Board Room. I would have hated to be the person that sat in it. Graduation came and went but didn’t seem that “final” since I had already been accepted into architecture school at Andrews University.

Bethel never lived up to those “hallmark” college days that Andrews did. I think it was because I didn’t live on campus. Don’t get me wrong, I had some good times there and made some great friends, but I never really felt at home there. I got an apartment with a couple of guys from Bethel and commuted to Andrews my first two years so I managed to keep some connection with the college, but once the roommate situation ended, so did my link with Bethel. And I never really felt the pull to go back.

the Bethel Years

2011-04-15T07:46:00.004-04:00

When we took over the Bethel Acorn, we inherited the mid-80s logo and never changed it. The upside down pink triangle? I know, makes me wonder what they were thinking too. That's my buddy Mark & I revamping the place. Yes, that's a near-mullet I have.

“Architects come a dime a dozen” said my dad as I was trying to plan out my post-high school future. Well, I loved business and already had a connection with Bethel College, so it seemed like a logical place to go. It was a small Christian college in Mishawaka-a half hour commute, and coming from a small Christian high school it seemed like the perfect fit. The enrollment my Freshman year was only about 500 and there was serious discussion about closing the college. The newest building on campus was a library dedicated just a few years prior and named in honor of my step-grandfather. I knew a small handful of kids who went there either from LaVille or my church. But compared to my school of 30-this seemed enormous.

I bonded with a small group of friends I had met during Freshman orientation and they became my base set of friends over the next two years, but my girlfriend and a great number of my old friends from high school were still in the area and since I didn’t live on campus, my time was spent with the old gain. That started to change by my Junior year as I became more active in a few programs. One fellow business major wanted to start a business club and tagged me as someone who could help get that off the ground. We did-it was called the “Bethel Action Network Club”, or BANC, the idea is that it would serve the entire student body as a method of making connections in the business community for future grads. Tom was the driving force behind this, and being a baseball player, attracted a few others with his energy. And then he came to a meeting and said “I have an idea.” He wanted BANC to take over operations of the meager little student union/café called “the Acorn” (Bethel’s campus is full of oak trees). We went along with Tom’s idea and it seemed to work well my Junior year.

By the end of that year Tom had yet another idea, spurred on by the head of our business school who happened to be a Kiwanian, Professor Mow. BANC should become a college Kiwanis program or “Circle K Club”. So, we began down that path. Our membership was never very high, but it sufficed to have a charter granted to us and we were adopted by Mishawaka’s Kiwanis Club. This affiliation with Kiwanis became the reason why I turned to Kiwanis once I returned to my home town six years later. My senior year lived up to college expectations....that's part 2.

Putting the Sycamore in Sycamore Hill

2011-04-13T06:03:00.005-04:00

Staking out the location for our allee of trees

This past weekend was amazing, wasn't it? The gloom on Saturday morning turned to sunshine and warmth and by Sunday night it felt like summer. We'll ignore the forecast of possible snow mixed in with rain for this Saturday.

That tom-foolery by Mother Nature convinced me that this past weekend was the time to plant trees. Again asserting the honorable role the sycamore tree should have in the Hoosier state, and wanting our place to live up to its name, I began the hunt for sycamore trees last fall by contacting the state tree nursery. I would have to buy 100 trees. They were out of sycamores. My dad had a catalog of native trees in which I could order 25. The cost was double for 1/4 of the trees-but given how I would insist on planting all 100, the 25 seemed like a better deal. I also ordered 10 (they sent 11) Douglas Fir. These would be the official family Christmas Trees for 2021-2032. And finally I ordered 5 apple trees last fall that I spaded into a temporary location until spring when I could establish the "orchard".

Two weekends ago my son and I, in anticipation of the tree order arriving any day, measured out the locations for the sycamore trees and the orchard. To provide an air of "romanticism and mystic" to the farm, and in keeping with the tradition of farm estates of the 1800s, we lined our roadway property line from the creek to the drive, and then lined each side of the drive all the way up the hill. We finally established a 25' spacing after evaluating 20' and 30'. The orchard was easier to plan at 15' with alternating rows.

The orchard arrived in a box last fall

Then this past weekend I planted. I had some assistance from my daughter for about 3 trees; after that she was finished. I reminded her she wanted the apple trees but that didn't matter. Then I carried buckets of water to nearly the corners of the property. Then I sprayed "deer away" which smells like rancid meat, on the trees hoping to thwart the herd of 30+ deer who are regular visitors to Sycamore Hill. I figure 10-15 years out we'll begin to get a feel for how these little whips will mature. I'll be almost 60. Good grief.

Architectural Unrest

2011-04-07T07:43:00.008-04:00

As I have been reading up on John Lloyd Wright recently I was struck by a comment in his book of an experience we had shared in our young architectural careers. Architecture for me has been nearly a life-long pursuit since I understood at an early age there was a sort of "architectural unrest". It was trips to Indianapolis to visit my grandparents, or through Indy on our way to Bloomington that I realized my interest in architecture. As we would drive down Meridian Street, north of I-465, and I studied the boxy new buildings that sprung up overnight I thought to myself “geesh, I can do at least that good”. And so I began designing homes and buildings when I was about 14 years old; I still have that first sketch book filled with floor plans and elevations. It was only a few years later that I also realized that early periods of American architecture also interested me. Possibly due to my love of history, soon I began to study old buildings and developed a real love for preservation. I subscribed to Colonial Homes magazine and the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s magazine when just a junior in high school. You would think that I would gravitate toward a profession in architecture, but I loved business and I can vividly recall my dad responding to me when I said that I wanted to be an architect: “architects come a dime a dozen”. And so, I put my architecture education on hold for four years while I received my business degree.

Near the end of my business schooling I realized I still had the itch to pursue architecture, so I enrolled in Andrews University's School of Architecture. The first design problem we had was for a small home. The professor made his rounds and looked at the work on my drafting table, then looked at me, then back at my work and made the comment "someone has done this before". The next five years I honed my skills and developed a pretty strong philosophy on architecture born out of almost cumbersome convictions. After I graduated, for good or bad, I ended up back in my hometown-something I considered a dream come true.

My second day on the job-exactly 2 days after graduation-the boss dropped a file folder on my desk and said it was for a client who had a lake house that burned down and they wanted to replace it. I was stoked-most archi grads don't get their own design projects for a few years after graduation and this was day 2. So I let loose all of the "creative genius" stored up from 5 years of architecture school and came up with a design that blended the history of the former house built by the client's grandfather, with the loss, but also an eye to the future. It was embedded with this "story" and a great deal of quiet purposeful decisions born from an adherence to Christopher Alexander's theories on architecture....two of his books are sitting on the shelf above me right now.

So the house was built, and I couldn't stay away from watching it come together. I remember one afternoon after work making my way to the site and walking around the shell, putting my hands into the window openings and studying the views from different vantage points. I went back to my loft apartment and wrote extensively about the experience that night. And that was the experience I shared with John Lloyd Wright. Wright wrote about doing this very same thing and called it "the closest thing to a spiritual experience" he had known. I still think fondly of that house on the lake and smile when I pass by it because I know the "story" behind the house. I know its intricacies and the reason it looks and functions like it does that the homeowner may not understand consciously, but probably in their subconscious are quite satisfied.

It is hard to explain the great personal satisfaction in seeing something imagined, then placed on paper, rise from the ground. It's like walking through someone's creative soul. Maybe it's like a farmer who walks through a corn field prior to harvest, or a mechanic who revs an engine brought back from the dead. It is a grand experience and I'm thankful God wired me in such a way to create.

Country Music for the Soul

2011-04-04T09:32:00.004-04:00

I have had an on-again, off-again relationship with Country music all my life and the CMAs last night brought that back to mind. As a kid I think that along with the Duke boys, and my whole country “swagger” was the need to listen to country music. I remember watching performers on Hee Haw and listening to the Grand Ol' Opry on the car radio. While I had a small AM radio that my aunt gave me for Christmas one year and I could pick up Rock on WLS, later I would start to listen to country music and only gave that up when I entered junior high.

And then it was off-again while Christian Rock and real Rock took center stage well into college. But then something shifted again and about mid-way through architecture school I got the hankering for a little twang in my life. That time it stuck, even if it was just one of five channels preset on the car radio. And then I got my truck...and, well, it only seemed appropriate.

And then I met my wife and she loved country music-mostly that girly stuff that hard-core, old-school country musicians wouldn't recognize as real "country", but that was ok. An interesting note is that when our son was a baby and began to fuss in the car on road trips-he only responded to country music-so we'd turn it up load and sing along with Garth or Shania. And so it has continued at our house, and now fittingly, on our farm.

For the most part country music is just good for the soul. There seems to be such a crossover in lyrics in what could be loosely, and at times concretely, understood as spiritual messages in the songs. And a great deal of time-they're just good plain fun. Country music is the sound of America's heartland, and while I don't always agree with the message, it is a window to our soul set to a sound born in the homes of pioneers on our early frontier.

Eric and Sam live at Fiddlers Hearth

2011-04-02T08:38:00.001-04:00

Here's a couple more talented notes

Monument to the Homefront & the other Lloyd Wright

2011-03-30T07:56:00.007-04:00

Kingsbury Ordinance Plant Employment Office & Medical Examination Building

Probably the most architecturally important building remaining at the KOP

I am working through a project right now that has required a great deal of research in advance on a bit of an unsung architect who practiced in Indiana during the 1920s, 30s, and 40s. John Lloyd Wright, who changed his middle name to that of his famous architect-father's, Frank, grew up in the business bouncing off his father's studio walls in Oak Park, Illinois. John at first rejected the notion of following in the trade but after moving to California and working side-by-side with his brother in a related field he understood he just had to follow his heart and began training under his dad. That led him back to Oak Park. Wanting to be out from under his father's shadow, John moved to Long Beach, Indiana in 1923. Long Beach was a resort community that developed along the Lake Michigan beach just north and east of Michigan City, Indiana. John created a home and studio, and more importantly, relationships with others for whom he would create home plans. John's work at first followed some of his father's styling with the Prairie influence, but after a trip to Europe he began to create his own mark on his architecture. John Lloyd Wright completed only about two dozen designs during his time in Indiana from 1923-1946, and only a few of those were not residential in nature. He created two schools, one in Long Beach and the other for Coldspring Township. The Long Beach school remains today. He also created probably his best known public work-the Long Beach Town Hall, which was recently restored. He created one apartment house, still existing in Michigan City, and a hotel for the Indiana Dunes, which was razed. All but one of his home designs were located in Long Beach, the one other was located in Michigan City and is still there.

Fire & Guard Station, KOP

Now, for the most part, I knew about his career in Indiana and about the handful of projects he created in Long Beach. But I didn't know that during the years of World War II John was contracted by the federal government to design buildings at the Kingsbury Ordinance Plant south of LaPorte.....in fact, I've yet to meet anyone who did know this. I found it listed in an early book written about his projects. So while the kids were home over spring break, and wanting to return to the Bass Pro Shop in Portage, we drove by way of Kingsbury and took a little tour. Once I turned off Highway 35 onto Hupp Road I saw the building pictured at the top and thought to myself-that has to be a John Lloyd Wright design. We saw a second smaller building (above) with the same design as well.

Finished ammunition storage warehouses, three of dozens at the KOP

If you've never driven through the former Kingsbury Ordinance Plant, I would highly recommend it. It is a relic of the war years that likely will soon disappear from the Hoosier landscape. Today it stands as a fading & eerie monument to those who served on the homefront, the Rosie Riveters of Indiana. My dad's parents both worked there during the war, but because of plant rules against husbands and wives working together my grandmother worked under her maiden name. With this new-found information on the plant's connection to John Lloyd Wright, I have a new appreciation for the place. John's drawings for his work at the "KOP" are archived with the Chicago Historical Society and I am planning a trip to get more information about his architecture remaining at the plant. As this project develops I will be sure to post more on JLW, KOP, and the other work he did at Long Beach.

Collide

2011-03-27T20:00:00.000-04:00

Now this boy's got talent! Proud to say I know the face behind those ivory ticklers.

Here come the Irish

2011-03-22T16:44:00.008-04:00

My Great Grandpa and Grandma “Lem” short for Lemuel and “Berthy” for Bertha, Crothers were my Grandma Hochstetler’s parents. They lived in a small old farm on the Saint Joseph County side of the Marshall/St. Joe County line, just west of Kenilworth Road. It was from their lines, solidly Irish, that I got my curs'ed curly hair. They were incredibly frugal, and seemingly strict. Their farm consisted of a working outhouse, chicken coop complete with chickens, an old barn, a windmill and well house, and an old house that from my recollection never had any paint on it. I remember going with my mom to visit them fairly often.

There was an old wood porch that led to the kitchen door. It had an old screen door that went “whap” and creeeeak. The inside of the home was straight out of the 1930s. I don’t believe that anything had been changed in the house during that time, including the wallpaper. Because they heated with a wood burning pot bellied stove in their living room, the whole house had that wonderful old smoky smell to it. Grandma Berthy would offer us candy….which was always those chewy orange circus peanuts. We would sit in the living room, quietly, around the stove. I remember grandpa always sitting in the same place at the end of a dark green couch from the 1950s. We weren’t permitted to look around the house. There was another room on the first floor that had a pair of French doors that always remained shut and I often wondered what was behind them. Once I caught a glimpse of shelves full of glassware. Nor were we ever allowed to go upstairs-to this day I have no idea what was up there. We were, however, permitted to go to the outhouse, because there was no indoor plumbing, or peek in at the chickens through an old door frame covered with chicken wire. A small mowed path through tall weeds led to the privy and coop.

Great Grandma Berthy always called us, early in the mornings, to let us know if we had a school delay or cancellation due to snow. I don’t remember much else, except I do remember their funerals. I believe it was Grandpa that died while I was staying with my Aunt Nell in Van Buren, and we had to return early for the funeral. They were in their early 80s when they died.

Heart, Head, Hands and....what's the 4th H?

2011-03-19T10:35:00.005-04:00

One year. That was it. While 4H horse & pony ran through our family veins, I participated one year with rabbits (4th place) and chickens (1st place). And that was enough. But the county 4H fair became the thing of childhood legends as each summer we trekked to the fairgrounds hauling horses to and from and setting up camp in the horse barn. And whether it actually occurred or not, I cannot say, but it did seem like it always stormed on the night we were there late into the evening. It was at the 4H fair in 1980 that mom was summoned to the fair office to take a call that grandpa Hochstetler was in the hospital. He died the next day. I always think of this while at the fair.

Growing out of the 4H experience, I still returned, even in high school, with friends to see old friends. And it is of course, a tradition today to take our children to the 4H fair to give them some form of farm experience and an appreciation of our agrarian roots. And it looks like we’ll have a couple of junior 4H’ers this summer.

I think I blame the 4H leaf collection exhibits for another obsession that developed in childhood. I developed a pretty keen sense of the natural environment around me, and an appreciation for it and that lead to a leaf collection I started when I was about 10 years old. Soon it busted the seams of a scrapbook as my collection grew to include leaves from trees that I collected on vacations south and west. I had close to a hundred specimens and even a box full of nuts, seeds, and fruits from the trees I collected leaves from. The bizarre thing, yes-as if this isn’t strange enough, is that my mom kept these tucked away in our attic and recently pushed them my way. It’s true though that I impress my friends with my rather useless knowledge of trees and can identify them by about any means in any season. My favorite trees are beech and sycamore and I’ve long since felt that the sycamore should replace the poplar as Indiana’s state tree.

the eagle has landed

2011-03-17T07:02:00.004-04:00

I’m not exactly sure how being a "birder" became a part of my make-up, but the earliest I can remember having an interest in wildlife was when, under duress, I was encouraged to find something to do the first day of summer vacation after about my 5th grade year. I recall my dad making a statement something like this “you need to find something to do, outside…..you are not going to sit inside and watch TV all summer”. After that I began sketching wildlife out of encyclopedias. I think that may be where it started. Regardless, I kept a list for several years through the end of elementary school and into Junior High. And while in high school I may have no longer recorded what I saw…I certainly could identify what I saw.

Then, after college and the kids came along, I started keeping track again of the birds that we had at our place on South Michigan Street. Surprisingly, for living a block from the downtown, we saw quite a variety of birds. The highest count was, I believe, 27 species in one week. Then we moved to the country and that record was quickly shattered as we have found about the most perfect environment for birding-I think the count is 42 different species in one week.

But last week had a stellar moment for birding here on the Hill, and those of you who follow me on Facebook know what I'm about to say. Yes indeed, the Eagle had landed at Sycamore Hill.

I pulled into the driveway last Wednesday after a rather draining day on the road. As I got to the top of the lane and turned the corner to park I saw an enormous figure fly between the house and barn. Realizing this was too large to be our red tailed hawks, I assumed maybe vulture. I got out of the car and saw it perched in a tree by the creek just beyond the large sycamore. Something said to me-get your camera-but I ignored it. I trekked over to the tree it was in and noticed it had a rabbit, and that this was no vulture. It looked at me and with a woosh and whap of its wings flew within about 50' of my head, circled, and came back to roost. No doubt about it-it was an immature eagle. It headed to the fence line along the back 5 acres.

So when the family got home I told them what I saw and we all walked out to the back pasture with binoculars, and this time a camera. It was still perched in a tall tree, but the camera wasn't going to do it any justice. My wife, however, caught a shot of the birder. I know that eagle sitings are becoming more frequent in this part of the Hoosier state, even locally. Even so, this was pretty amazing.....even if my FB friends found the story a bit hard to swallow!

Political DNA

2011-03-14T14:20:00.006-04:00

I'm in the center-this was at FBI Headquarters while on a visit to my grandparents in 1986; funny, I had some Republican friends say this was too right-wing to include on my campaign website. Evidently not right enough!

Whether blood-borne, or married-in, I can't deny my political DNA make-up. This came blasting back into my consciousness recently when I invited former Governor Doc Bowen to the reception honoring my great aunt. You see, back in 1981 Doc remarried my great aunt's sister....and that would be my grandmother. And that led to over 10 years of insight that did nothing but whet my appetite for politics.

Swearing in ceremony for Health & Human Services Secretary, my grandmother in blue

I come from a long, long line of Republicans. It appears that since the dawn of the GOP on America's political landscape, my family in all of its lines has associated themselves with the party. My great grandmother (the mean one) was the first woman delegate to a presidential convention from Indiana-or the story goes. The family, though, always shied away from public office. In retrospect I think I understand why. I broke that tradition in 2003, and could very much see myself breaking with tradition again. The tough part is that I don't see much that I can identify with in today's GOP. It seems the pendulum swings so dramatically to the right and left that left is barely left of center anymore. Which makes me wonder where I am.....oh, and I know where some people think I am!

Meeting with Senator Lugar, above, and on tour with Lt. Governor Skillman, below on right

So last week, after some encouragement, we had a visit with Doc and I introduced my kids to their "ex-step great grandfather" (I think that's right). It was nice to catch up and we wished him well for his 93rd birthday. I would have loved to talk politics....like, "hey, what is up with that gawdoffal Mitch Daniels anyway?" I think most Republicans would be shocked by how he might reply. If you recall, he endorsed Mitch's opponent back in the day, before daylight savings time...sigh.... Instead we traded chit chat stories of life and business, and what our kids are involved in. And that seemed just fine.

I think what separates a true public servant from a politician is where their loyalties lie. I think a politician's loyalties lie with himself and his party. A statesman, a true public servant, has loyalties with only the public. So when a decision must be made, something in his core kicks in and makes a decision on what is right for the people. We don't have that today. I'd like to think that was my m.o., but I'll let others be the judge of that.

service done right

2011-03-10T06:39:00.006-05:00

I have written on HH before about my great aunt who lost her re-election bid for township trustee last fall in the wake of the national anti-Obama uprising. A whole lot of good conservative Democrats were voted out of office. My aunt was the most fiscally conservative elected official I have ever known. Despite that, and her years of experience, she's looking for something else to do now.

One problem....who would hire a 90 year old? My great aunt first started working as a deputy assessor for the township in which she was born and lived her entire life in 1962. In 1970 she was elected trustee and had won every election since that time. That 40 years, plus another 8-that's almost 50 years of service to the people of North Township. She was awarded the Sagamore of the Wabash in 2001.

A friend of mine "from the other side of the aisle" suggested we do something to honor her so we planned a small reception with a few surprises for her. And then she ended up in the hospital and we had to reschedule the reception. We finally were able to hold it a few weeks ago and to her surprise Congressman Donnelly was able to come and speak on the virtues my aunt has demonstrated as a servant of the public for the 40 years. And then he read a letter from President Obama commending her on a job well done. At that she wiped tears from her eyes-and I have to say I did too. I think maybe most stirring was the presentation of a flag and salute by officers of the American Legion.

That's our family with blue dog Democrat Congressman Donnelly

I don't care about political affiliation. I call things as I see them. I think I have a very keen insight on political maneuvering, jockeying, issues of integrity and duplicity. I am probably most critical of my own Republican party because I see tremendous results of power corrupting and whole communities, whole citizenry, suffering because party is treated more important than the public. Actions based on heady, untested, principles are being crammed down our throats with little thought to their ramifications, maybe true on both sides of the aisle. We are at a desperate loss of true public servitude in our country and I don't believe it will ever come back.

intoxicating

2011-03-08T07:20:00.003-05:00

We often get wild surprises around here. Like the pair of Red-Tailed hawks that have been hunting on the Hill. The red-tails seem to be staying lower to the ground as they fly past the house going from the woods across the road to their favorite perch on top of our barn. One afternoon a hawk decided to stop halfway and perch from a fence post just a few yards from the house.

Yesterday my folks stopped by and had coffee. My dad called from the living room and said there was a large group of Cedar Waxwings just outside the front door. We counted 19 of them. The waxwings have been here before, but never in such large numbers. We have four ancient red cedar trees that were planted when the house was constructed in 1865 that form a line between our drive and the front of the house. Cedar Waxwings love cedar berries, as their name would imply. And they were feasting on the berries that had dropped to the ground late last fall and have been covered by snow the last three months. I mentioned this to a fellow birder and he asked me if they were drunk. What? He then explained that often the old berries have fermented and the waxwings have been known to become intoxicated. I told him that must have been why one was wearing a lampshade and another kept telling me he loved me......

it'll tickle yore innards

2011-03-05T08:46:00.005-05:00

A few days ago my little girl and I were walking the property looking for a suitable tree in which to construct a treehouse/clubhouse. Ever since she saw an American Girl Doll movie with Kit Kitridge and her treehouse/base of operations for her investigative journalism work, she's been fantasizing over having a treehouse of her own. I told her last year to give me a year so that we could settle in here on the Hill, and then I would build one.

Well, this is the year. And our scouting earlier this week produced about 4 potential treehouse tree hosts. As we walked along the bank of Brush Creek, the snow about half melted from the ground, I saw a dark green bottle glistening beneath the flotsam and jetsam of this and several past winters. I picked it up and read "Mountain Dew It'll tickle yore innards". I have a handful of old pop bottles that I found on my grandparents' property decades ago, but evidently they were not Mt. Dew fans, and frankly neither am I, because I hadn't seen this one before. And I could hardly believe the marketing image of a mountain man and the use of "innards" on something meant for consumption. But I loved it. Unfortunately the top was broken off. I looked at the bottom for a date and it was stamped with "65".

So I came back to the house and did a little research on Moutain Dew. And here it is: The name Mountain Dew was first trademarked by Ally and Barney Hartman in the 1940s, who coined the name from a colloquial term for moonshine whiskey. Early bottles and signage carried the reference forward by showing a cartoon-stylized mountaineer. The first sketches of the original Mountain Dew bottle labels were devised in 1948 by John Brichetto, and the representation on product packaging has changed at multiple points in the history of the beverage. Pepsi-Cola Company acquired the Mountain Dew brand in 1964, and shortly thereafter in 1973 the logo was modified as the company sought to shift its focus to a “younger, outdoorsy” generation.

Outdoorsy generation? Was the mountaineer not outdoorsy enough? And then I found this great link to youtube with an original Moutain Dew commercial-definitely worth watching:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xd8fzk8Rlk

polar opposite great grandmothers

2011-03-02T15:33:00.006-05:00

“Granner” or “Granner Grump” was my dad's dad's mother. As her name implied, she was a bit of a grumpy old woman. She had a mobile home located between our mobile home and my grandparents’ house on Lilac Road. Grandpa had moved her to the farm in the 1960s, built a small storage shed which remained on the farm long after the home was gone, and provided a small garden for her. She didn’t like us kids, and she hated cats, of which my grandparents had many. We thought it entirely harmless to walk back and forth in front of her house with the kitties from the barn. She would come out with a broom and shoo us away.

She attended the Assemblies of God Church in Plymouth and my grandparents would leave after church in LaPaz to go pick her up after her service. Sometimes we were allowed to ride along. You might wonder why we would want to, but it was because my grandparents could be talked into stopping at the A&W Rootbeer stand for ice cream….that made up for riding with an angry old lady. She was in her mid 80s when she died. Only the good die young.

Or maybe they don't. My Great Grandma Edna Hochstetler, we just called her Grandma Edna, had retired from the farm northwest of Bremen quite some time before I was born, and had moved with Great Grandpa to a small brick house on Montgomery Street in Bremen, across from the Salem Methodist Church, and around the corner from where her parents had retired to many years before. Grandma Edna had a particularly interesting way in speaking that I remember my grandpa mimicked some, but can hear it particularly well in how my Great Aunt Lorretta speaks. I wonder if it wasn’t from some German influence of her ancestors. Grandma Edna’s house was pretty sparse of furniture and décor. Everything seemed particularly clean and orderly when we would sit and visit with her. She had a few games that we could play, very old board games that she kept in a room off the kitchen. Grandma Edna would always provide us a little something for Christmas, near the end it was a card with a single dollar bill inside. I do remember one Christmas getting a marble track made of wood. And once while visiting she gave me an old metal toy road grader that had been my grandpa’s. Thankfully I still have that.

Grandma, along with her three sisters, were stalwarts of the Methodist Church across the street. All were involved in the women’s temperance society, and the suffrage movement. They all lived to be incredibly old and insisted the family all come together for the Ewald (their maiden names) Reunion each year. Grandma Edna died at 96 years of age when I was a freshman in college.

Auctions with Grandpa

2011-02-26T14:58:00.005-05:00

I know that I was also fortunate to have known all of my grandparents. The one I knew the least well was probably because he was the first to pass on. Grandpa Hochstetler descended from strong German stock and as his name implies, the grandson of Amish settlers to Indiana. They had a farm that had been in the family for 100 years northwest of Bremen on 1st Road. I've been told that I look a great deal like him, so much so that at times when I run into people from Bremen they comment that I "must be a Hochstetler". He and grandma would drive into Plymouth on Friday evenings to “people watch” downtown. Grandpa seemed to be a kind and warm soul who died way too young at 58 years of age, and too suddenly. He died on my mom’s birthday on July 24, 1980.

Very few memories do I have of my grandpa Hochstetler. I do remember occasionally on Saturdays he would stop by the truckstop and would ask my mom if I could go along to a auction. Grandpa often went to auctions; he and my grandmother collected and dealt in antiques. So I had the opportunity to tag along and even became the recipient of a few items purchases at the auction that grandpa saw no value in. I remember one teddy bear in particular that he gave me that came in a lot of other things. I remember giving that bear to my grandmother when grandpa died. I wish I had it back.

Grandpa had a little shop that was once a worker’s house on the mint farm. He refinished antiques in this little shop and one time I helped him build a tiny wood table that I painted baby blue; it is long gone now. I like to think that his appreciation for antiques has something to do with my love of old things as well.

Beware: Sacrifice Kills

2011-02-25T07:21:00.006-05:00

Our pastor has been going through a series he dubbed "Foundations", and as it suggests the messages have been about the foundations of the Christian faith found in Genesis. If I've gained nothing else from the messages, I certainly have realized that 6 years of Bible class and chapel in junior high and high school, 9 years of attending Christian colleges with chapel and Bible classes, and 20 years of being pastored by Lester Sumrall....I have a pretty good knowledge of those little used passages of scripture. Like the bald prophet whose dignity was under attack until a hungry bear came along.

Often my application of Sunday sermons are rather tangential, much like the first part of this post. Last Sunday pastor preached on the passage concerning Abraham being called to sacrifice Isaac. And as we know, Abraham's faith was tested by God when he was called to sacrifice the son God promised and as he drew his hand back to thrust the knife into this sacrifice God intervened and then provided a ram. I think the sermon's charge was to have faith like Abraham...or something along those lines....I'm not sure because my mind had already wandered away on a tangent by the time pastor got to that part of his message.

What is sacrifice anyway? A short Webster definition is "devote with loss". He also calls the sacrificed "a victim". It seems the Christian community today has a twisted view of sacrifice. Sacrificial giving doesn't equate to real loss. Our sacrifices could rarely be described as victims. And far too often, as we think of offering a sacrifice, we hold out for the miracle ram that conveniently took Isaac's place.......or we hold out for a 3 day resurrection guarantee. But those are the exceptions to the rule-not the law of sacrifice itself.

Have you ever stopped to ask yourself what in this life can you look back at and truly say it was a sacrifice to God? Is there a blood stained altar somewhere in your past, that was the result of "devotion with loss"? Can you point your finger back to a "victim" in your past?

I have to admit that as I listened to the message on Sunday, about how Isaac represented a promise of God-something in which Abraham's hopes and dreams were being realized-I looked back at the one true sacrifice I have made in my life and wondered why God didn't provide a ram. I thrust the dagger deep into the throat of my dream because I believed that's what God was asking of me.....to give the very best I had, the dreams that He formed in my heart. It's dead, and not coming back.

I think it is important to consider that Isaac wasn't a child when Abraham took him to the mountain. It is widely accepted by scholars that he was at least 20 years of age. Abraham was no doubt looking to Isaac as being on the cusp of producing the grandchildren that would be as numerous as the stars in the heaven. Twenty years of moving toward the fullfillment of what God promised-the hope formed in Abraham's heart-and now, that dream in its prime, was about to be put to death.

What if God's intent was truly to have Isaac as a sacrifice? Do you think when Abraham looked out upon the blood-stained mountain called Moriah he would have questioned what God was thinking? Would it have been a constant source of unrest? I'm sure Christians who have it together better than I do would say that looking back at a sacrifice with some degree of questioning, or unrest, shows a lack of faith in God. We probably all measure sacrifice differently, but I don't see how "devote with loss" or "victim" wouldn't produce some sleepless nights and angst when you pass by your Moriah. If it doesn't, I question whether or not there was a real victim involved.

God and I have had an interesting dialogue going over the last year.....I have to admit it's been pretty one-sided. Moriah stares me in the face every day.

LaPaz: going back to school

2011-02-21T13:25:00.006-05:00

When I wrote a short post about my old elementary school in LaPaz, I never would have expected all of the interest expressed in those good old days by readers who stumbled on this blog. It made me realize that a second post was warranted.

It just so happened that I was on the former site of the school on Saturday and snapped a picture of my son by the memorial sign in front of the volunteer fire department building that now occupies the site. I still feel a bit cheated that our school was demolished while Lakeville's school has become a center for the community. While this post may seem a bit jumbled in the recollections, I wanted to stir the memories of others who called LaPaz home. My grandma gave me her old 110 camera complete with flash cube technology in the spring of 1981-had it not been for that I wouldn't have any pictures-the few I do have.

The oldest part of the building was constructed in 1905, and was designed by Jacob Ness, a Plymouth architect who designed a number of churches and large commercial buildings in town (more on that at another time). When school consolidation occurred in the late 1920s the larger part of the building was constructed in 1928. Only two schools remained in the township: LaPaz and Linkville. The newest part of the building was built in 1954 and housed the cafeteria. On Saturday Ronnie McCartney (Mac's Market) told me that was the worse part of the building in terms of heat loss. To that I responded that I remembered during the energy crisis of the 1970s we were instructed to wear our coats during class. Kindergarten through third grade were in that part of the building.

Readers responded to the earlier post with a number of memories including March Market. Everyone looked forward to that. The large trinkety sort of market was set up in the gymnasium. There was a cake walk conducted on the stage (I don't think I ever won!), a "jail" set up in the gym and for a few tickets you could have friends and teachers locked up, and probably the coolest thing was the haunted house set up in the basement. The line for the haunted house stretched out through the building (and frankly, if they had just turned the lights out in that building it would have sufficed for scare factor), but the haunted house-which no doubt broke every fire code in the book-was the favorite part of the market.

Do people remember the bright red lipstick Dr. Bauer (the principal) would wear and God forbid it was your birthday because she would hunt you down, usually in the lunch room, and give you a big kiss. I don't see that happening in my kids' school today-wonder why? There was a caged area constructed in the basement filled with old desks and other items-it was always creepy to walk past it on the way to the Principal's office. Do you remember the small collection of cool erasers and pencils that the school secretary had at her window?

One responder said "go LaPaz Trojans". This baffled me because I had always remembered the mascot as the Vikings. I had to go searching my dad's yearbooks from the 1950s and they were Vikings then, so I'm not clear if and when there was a change in ethnicity from Scandinavian to Greek mascot culture. The old class photos from the 1920s through the 50s can be found in the LaPaz Community Building behind the old ball diamond.

Speaking of the ball diamond, does anyone remember the day the fire department showed up to burn down an old concession booth at the south end of the fields? We watched from our classroom windows in 4th grade (I think) and the rumor was that someone had been growing pot in the old urinals stored there.....that was the rumor anyway. I participated in some rumor milling myself. I told all of my friends the concession booth (still there today) at the north side of the field was looted by bigfoot himself. Then I would bang on the side of the building while friends were on the other side.

OK-now here is one that surely others will remember. The house immediately north of the playground had a sunbather who would climb out onto her roof and all the boys would stand with gaped mouths. The exciting part was when the town marshall showed up at her house, I assume to advocate for decency, and she ran off. I do remember this correctly, don't I? Speaking of the playground, funny how after LaPaz was consolidated with Lakeville Elementary, the playground equipment was no longer safe to use. Do you remember that huge slide with barely any handrails or edge as you slid down at breakneck speed across the polished steel surface?

Someone mentioned that President Ford was in attendance for our Bicentennial Observance in 1976. I don't remember that....I just remember that we had invited Fonzie from Happy Days and he couldn't make it. The Fonz held my interest in those days than the President. Last summer I was at a coffee shop in Plymouth and a woman called me by name and asked if I remembered her. She looked vaguely familiar...but I was stumped. She said, "I'm Mrs. Joyce, your elementary music teacher." And then it hit me like a brick. Absolutely I remembered her...it had just been 35 years!

How about making candy during the Christmas season in art class? Mrs. Peterszack (sp?) was one of the kindest teachers-but who wouldn't love art class? I threw a spelling bee in 3rd grade (I think) because I didn't want to have to compete-I was an alternate and the judges didn't want us to feel left out so I competed anyway. Mrs. Gutknect finished out my split 5th grade year from Ms. Carls as teacher and I was happy to find out that she was coming back to be my 6th grade teacher. I've probably written too much, but would love to hear more stories from LaPaz!

Thoughts on Knights(any small Indiana)town

2011-02-21T11:59:00.000-05:00

This is look at Knightstown, but a reflection on all of our small Midwestern towns.

our "fliver"

2011-02-19T08:33:00.004-05:00

Earlier this week as the snow started to melt and the packed snow in the driveway became a thick sheet of ice, my wife had returned from the store and parked in her normal spot in the driveway. The next morning-not seeing the car-I asked my wife "where did you park?" She said "behind the Mazda". But I didn't see our Ford Freestyle behind the Mazda. In fact, I went so far as to step out on the back porch and still didn't see the Freestyle.

My hopes were up that the car had been stolen.

Then, looking out another window we saw the Freestyle. It had slid back down the shallow slope of the driveway, on the ice, more than twenty feet and was resting at a bit of an angle near the curve of the driveway. So I introduced this tale as my Facebook status update which began a string of comments that ended with me saying "I loath our Freestyle".

When we purchased the car a few years ago it was only two years old at that time and had pretty low mileage. Shortly after we bought it a number of small things started going wrong with it. We'd take it back to the dealer service center and they acted like "no big deal". Fixed it, or thought they fixed it, and then went about their merry way. Issues like headlights frequently burning out, door latches not working properly, the air conditioning not working, a clicking in the fan, etc., etc. Once my wife walked into the dealer service center and threw her keys at the attendant and said "this time I'm not leaving until the issue is truly fixed". I mean, I don't blame her-not a good thing to be driving along at 55 mph and a car door all of a sudden pop open on you with kids in the car. Then bigger things started going wrong with the car....electronics, sway bars, etc., etc. And that's when the dealership told us "tough luck" your warranty expired. Messages to the dealership about the quality of the vehicle and their claim as #1 in customer satisfaction in Indiana met with mute response.

We were not a "Ford family" so to speak. My first Ford was my Mustang, the second was my F150. Both vehicles I was pleased with. And I don't know that I would completely rule out buying a Ford today....but I'd have serious reservations and I know I wouldn't go back to the dealer/service center again.

We were playing Scrabble last night, which led me to retrieving a dictionary off my desk....I stumbled upon the word "fliver". Never heard of it. Here is the definition from a 1957 Webster's Dictionary:

fliver (fliv'er), n. a name which came into common use for a low-priced automobile; the finer quality of the present day product will probably cause the word fliver to become obsolete.

I think that Webster was nearly correct in his prediction, however, I have now reintroduced fliver to the world and it has become the word for which I refer to our Freestyle...our very own fliver. Huh, I just ran spell-check and it highlighted fliver.

Waging War as a Kid

2011-02-16T08:10:00.006-05:00

my attempt at living out a childhood fantasy as Steven Hamlin with my brother Cal

War books
Whether it was my passion for history, or my sincere interest in the Civil War due to being influenced by the Dukes of Hazard, I began to devour books on early American wars in my last few years in elementary school. I remember reading every book I could get my hands on about the Civil War and battles fought during the war. Then I began reading all of the books on the American Revolution and the War of 1812, then the French and Indian War. I even went so far as to draw various flags of competing sides, had a list of battles and dates from the wars with the victors, and then would place the victor’s flag in my window on the day of the battle. I’m quite certain my parents thought I had gone crazy…..because there was a different flag in the window about every day.

Fort building
Nature was my laboratory, for certain, but it was also my kingdom. And in order to protect the kingdom, one would need forts built at various locations; this may have been influenced by the genre of reading material I preferenced. Not being satisfied with the elevated fort complete with ramparts my dad built in our backyard, I constructed my first fort when I was about 10 years old in my grandpa’s woods right behind our house. There were three oak trees that grew closely together and formed a triangle so I created a lean-to with sticks like I had seen in my Indiana history books. Then came the second fort, then steps nailed to trees throughout my grandpas 80+ acres for “lookouts”.

Then came the fort-a-la-resistance, the crowning achievement of my fort building career that I created in 6th grade. With scrap wood left over from remodeling the truck stop, I found four oak trees growing in a square in a small woods on my grandpa’s property, and built a raised platform (because it also flooded), four walls, a back “deck”, steps to the roof and a handrail around the top of the roof. With the monstrosity being visible from the highway, my dad handed me a gallon of brown paint when the building was completed. Funny how dad’s reason for camouflage was a little different from mine. The fort lasted for a few years before a windstorm blew off the roof and a few boards off the sides. At that time I took it all down except the back “deck” which became a great place to camp with my buddies in Junior High. The wood steps are still there on the one tree, leading to where the rooftop lookout was once located. I don’t think I’d try to climb them today. Those forts and "lookouts" provided great places to wage fireworks wars in high school.

the Barn on the Hill

2011-02-13T14:30:00.004-05:00

I took advantage of the warmer, warmer being a relative term, weather yesterday and set out for a walk around the property. Our barn always provides a good subject to photograph in any season, from about any angle. Its old hand-hewn timbers seemed to be waiting for a thaw and the resumption of sunrise coffees on Thursday mornings.

what media can do to a 10 year old

2011-02-12T10:01:00.005-05:00

Star Wars
Where did you see Star Wars? I saw it at the Rees Theater in Plymouth with my older cousin, Rusty, and one of his buddies. But what I remember probably best from that night was the car ride back to my cousin’s house at the Lake of the Woods. He had a muscle car he called “The Judge”, and he drove it home that night pretending to be Han Solo guiding the Millennium Falcon through warp speed. And I rolled around in the back seat as we took dangerous curve after curve at breakneck speed.

But that began my fast obsession with everything galactic, and most certainly with all things Star Wars as I collected figure after figure, craft after craft, and the Death Star itself. My first purchase was a Ti-Fighter that I insisted my grandmother let me buy one weekend at Harvey Mart in Plymouth, while I was staying with them while my parents were away. I remember thinking that my folks probably would not have approved, so I could blame this one on Grandma.

Dukes of Hazard
Without a doubt the most influential television show growing up for me was the Dukes of Hazard. This was so much the case that I tape recorded (not video, audio!) show after show and listened to them over and over again in my bed when I was supposed to be sleeping with a tiny earphone. I imagined my grandpa as uncle Jesse and me as the youngest cousin of the Duke boys. I had a burnt orange and yellow dirt bike that I spelled out “General Lee” on the side with stickers, and was the proud owner of a digital watch that played Dixie. Friday nights were sacred. One time my cousin and I climbed out of the windows of my grandmother's powder blue Pontiac at the grocery, pretending to be Dukes. She nearly died of embarrassment.

Tomahawk Kid
Combine the Dukes of Hazard, Star Wars, and my own super hero fantasy and you have fertile ground to create a home-grown country version of a junior super hero. Enter “the Tomahawk Kid”. My grandparents brought back a t-shirt for me from their fishing trip to Tomahawk, Wisconsin one year. It simply said “Tomahawk”. So I envisioned this super hero, wearing the t-shirt beneath other shirts, blue jeans and cowboy boots who would come to the aid of his fellow man and rip off the top shirt to expose none other than….the Tomahawk Kid. That was me. I invented all sorts of contraptions that were weapons and tools for spying on people, and taking samples for investigations. I think I was about 10. I wish I still had that t-shirt.

David Crowder Band's "O Praise Him"

2011-02-09T08:30:00.000-05:00

from pew sittin' to pew jumpin'

2011-02-08T19:41:00.007-05:00

The original LaPaz Church of God

LaPaz Church of God
I don’t recall at all the original church building our family all attended, and the place where my mom and dad were wed. I do remember, however slightly, going to the LaPaz Church of God located on U.S. 31. But I don’t remember much about it other than we had the Nabisco wafers that would fit on your finger and Hawaiian punch for snacks and my grandmother was in charge of bringing the snacks to our preschool classroom on the second floor. Many years after the church split, and long after my grandmother died, my grandpa asked us kids to drive him to church and we would sit with him in the seniors’ Sunday School Class. It didn’t seem that anything had changed in the 20 years I had been gone, except the church bell in front of the building was donated by my dad in memory of my grandmother.

Christian Center
How does one go from being a part of the Church of God to Charismatic? Prayer meetings. Not just any prayer meetings, Holy Ghost inspired prayer meetings that evidently were off limits to the congregation of the Church of God. Our family, and my aunt’s family and grandmother, along with many others from the church started attending prayer meetings at a family's home in Bremen. They had an attractive high school daughter and the kids would hang out and play Twister in her room. I was about 4 years old, but I had a crush on Stephanie. Once our pastor caught wind of the prayer meetings the church exploded and many of us left to go to Lester Sumrall’s church in South Bend: Christian Center. Other than clapping, some strange languages being spoken, and kids that were black (hadn't seen that before!) in my Sunday School pre-K class…I don’t know that I noticed the difference, except that it seemed like we were constantly at church-Sunday morning, evening, and Thursday evening. Growing up Charismatic, however, was an entirely different experience, and I'm just dying to write that book.

Goodman Memories

2011-02-06T15:36:00.007-05:00

1991 Graduation in Goodman

I've been promising one of our 20x guys that I would attend one of his basketball games at Bethel College in Mishawaka. I cancelled on him once, the second time the game was cancelled due to weather. Third time's a charm. So Thursday night last week, after being cooped up in the house from the "blizzard", the family ventured to Mishawaka for a game against Goshen College.

I haven't written much about my four years at Bethel. I graduated from there in '91 (holy cow-20 years ago!) with a Business Administration degree, and enough credits for economics and marketing minors. I don't stay in contact with many from those four years, and rarely have I been on campus-which looks nothing like it did 20 years ago. But I was looking forward to watching Caleb play ball-and just maybe hoped for some reminder of those great times watching Bethel basketball.

college diploma #1

The gym in my days, and for several decades before me, was known as Goodman Auditorium. It was a classic barrel-vaulted gymnasium with a stage at one end and lots of wood. Today Bethel boasts a new gym, connected to Goodman with a large lobby filled with hall of famers. We arrived a few minutes before the game began so I took the kids over to Goodman and we stepped inside. I'm not sure what I expected.

While it certainly brought back loads of memories including Freshman orientation and chapel in my first year, and Homecoming and graduation my senior year, it was the basketball games that without question made the gym come to life. And I think that's what I tried to recapture Thursday night. Crowded Goodman moved and breathed like you would expect any Hoosier high school gym on a Friday night. But the feeling was far more intense. Packed into the little gym, with your friends and classmates on the court, only the buzzer could drown out the noise from the bleachers. And there was that smell that came from years of perspiration, old wood, and court sealer.

Homecoming 1990

That seemed strangely absent from Goodman Thursday night. As I tried to soak in the spirit of fans and athletes that hung like a shadow over the court, the place seemed almost barren. Gone were the championship banners hung from rafters like layers of cherished pages in a favorite photo album. Gone were the heavy dark blue velvet curtains framing the stage with Bethel's iconic helm logo centered above. The banners were moved to the new gym, and the stage opening had been filled in with wall and glass into which you could view students running in place. Across the floor of the gym athletes were practicing, running laps. But it just didn't feel the same.

We lingered the the lobby just prior to the start of the game and I pointed out to my kids the retired jerseys of fellow students and names of friends. The game was intense, and Caleb was on fire with 3 pointers. But, of course, it didn't feel like the old times in Goodman. As people walked into the gym I looked intently into their faces, trying to peal back 20 years of time to recognize someone from those bygone days. After the game I walked my kids around a little bit of the campus. Two thirds of the buildings there today were not there during my time, and with the exception of the library, even those that I remembered have little resemblance to the 1991 version. I recalled a few pranks that we played, pointed out the student union where I spent most of my time outside of class. And I recalled a number of friends, many I haven't seen in those 20 years. There is a certain risk of shock in going back, isn't there?

Fishing & gardening with Grandpa

2011-02-05T16:21:00.004-05:00

Fishing with Gramps

Do you fish? A common question among men. Fishing for me isn’t the type of fishing grown men do today though. Fishing for me was a cane pole, digging for worms, blue gill in a five gallon bucket, and cigar smoke wafting along the bank of some pond. Grandpa loved to fish and during the summer months when I’d see his pickup truck pull up in our driveway in the mid afternoon it could only mean one thing “do you want to go fishing?” And of course, I always did. And armed with simple cane poles that once belonged to his dad-for I never remember gramps with a spinning rod-we would pull blue gill after blue gill from the ponds in the area or from one undeveloped channel at the Lake of the Woods. And even more dangerous than a kid armed with a fishing hook at the end of a pole, is a kid sitting on the wheel hub in the back bed of a pick up truck driving through the country on back roads. Grandpa also had a small john boat with a coating of pale green paint on the exterior….occasionally we would haul that to a pond or the lake, but as gramp’s got older, it kept its place leaning against an old fence row. That was my fishing experience growing up. No fishing experience I’ve had later in life ever measured up to that experience so, do I fish? No-it’s just not the same.

my Great Grandpa with his cane poles that later I used

Gardening with Grandpa & Grandma
Truck patch & rock gardens. One of my first memories of Grandma was creating a two or three tiered “rock garden” in the lawn between their home and our mobile home. Grandma was thrifty and ingenious and no doubt saw a fancier rock garden in some magazine and figured she could do justice with one of her home-grown varieties. And so it was created, with rocks from the fields and plants of some sort, I am sure. As for the truck patch-grandpa created a giant garden in the field behind his barn. Add a little horse manure to the lowlands and it became an impressive garden at that. Potatoes, tomatoes, corn, zucchini, and pumpkins-of the enormous variety-and we would help with it all. Surplus produce of course abounded and we would sell it from the back of his truck at the truck stop.

"blizzard" of 2011

2011-02-02T13:28:00.007-05:00

The anticipation was building all day yesterday as people made frantic trips to the grocery store in light of media reports describing the impending snow storm as "epic" and "worst of the decade". I called and made arrangements for our driveway to be plowed in the aftermath, fed the birds, pulled the shovel out of the garage and placed it by the back door, and then hunkered down in anticipation.

By the time the kiddos left for school the weather service had already issued a blizzard warning for our area. I remarked I didn't ever recall going to school under a blizzard warning, but evidently we are tougher these days. When the true storm finally descended upon us mid-afternoon, after an early dismissal of students across northern Indiana, the anticipation was at fever pitch in our house.

As the waning hours of daylight turned to night, though already dimmed by masses of snow in crushing waves, we thought to ourselves.....stranded. And what if the warnings of power outages, five foot drifts, and impassable roads came true? Could we eek out an existence until rescued?

Though we didn't know it at the time, the storm hit its climatic height around 8:00 p.m., at which time I told the kids to step out onto the front stoop to see what a blizzard felt like. Walls of pelting snow and sleet beat against the house and scoured the ground. When we curled up in bed, having looked out the windows once more, we could hear the winds howl and the snow beat against our thin and fragile old glass window panes as the sashes rattled in their frames.

Then morning broke. I heard no more blowing. As daylight wakened the reshaped terrain, the brutal force of mother nature's wrath was revealed. Indeed there was snow, and there were drifts......but calling this the "blizzard of 2011"? C'mon. It should be noted that the number of vehicles on our road in the last 19 hours equal just 3 (includes one snow plow), which was also the same number of deer we saw walking down the road past our drive.

And as I type this, our snow plow is breaking us free from this frozen and isolated prison.

Adams Landing or CCC?

2011-01-29T11:37:00.005-05:00

Along South Birch Road in Tippecanoe Township is a hillside retreat along the Tippecanoe River. Generations have grown up with the stone steps and walled embankment referring to it as "the wall" or the swimming hole.

The area has all of the trademarks of a New Deal project, either by the Civilian Conservation Corps or the Works Progress Administration, but a few facts make it hard to pinpoint if indeed it actually is a New Deal project. First, the property was privately owned. New Deal work was never undertaken on private property, or even non-profit property. In the case of the Izaak Walton League building, the League had to turn the property over to the US Bureau of Fish Hatcheries to have the clubhouse constructed. The second item is that it cannot be found in the listing of Federal Relief work in Marshall County.

Recently research was undertaken on the history of the Argos Izaak Walton League which may shed some light on "the wall". The league was established in 1926. They held fish fries along the Tippecanoe River at a place called "Adams Landing". The league constructed ovens at Adams Landing and it was there that a benefit supper was held to raise funds to purchase the property the League now uses as its home. In the Argos Izaak Walton League Building is a photograph of "the wall", but without a caption. Could the stonework have been created by the League given the popularity of the site as a fishing hole? No one in the area has ever heard of Adams Landing.

Creighton Bros. of Warsaw were the owners of the property until recently when Wythougan Valley Preservation acted as a liaison in the transfer of the property to Pottawatomie Wildlife Park. The stonework is in rough condition, however, the park has already made some stabilization to the wall. We anticipate working with the park in restoring this site because whether or not it is a CCC work, or the work of the Izaak Walton League, it is still an important piece of heritage to the residents of Tippecanoe Twp.

Wards: the first cookie-cutter?

2011-01-26T15:19:00.009-05:00

Wards Headquarters in Chicago

In 1996 I began work on a project that revealed a great deal about the emerging national economy based on chain department stores. The large, two and a half story, downtown building had been covered in sleek aluminum panels during the 1970s. Once the panels were removed and the gleaming white terra cotta facade was exposed, one certainly wondered why cover the building and do so much damage to the building?

But, it is what we Americans do to try to modernize and keep up with the Joneses (what is the plural of Jones?). So began the restoration saga of this building, aided by the original blueprints created for Montgomery Wards. The Wards corporation was begun by Aaron Montgomery Wards in 1872 as a catalog store, meaning you could order things through the catalog that you may view at local catalog outlets. But you couldn't buy those items on display.

1929 Wards Store in Plymouth

That all changed when one gentleman walked into a Wards catalog store in downtown Plymouth, Indiana in 1926. As the story goes, the man broke a tool and desperately needed to replace it immediately. He persuaded the manager of the catalog store to sell him the tool that day, and the rest, well, is history. The popularity made the Plymouth store the first retail store for Montgomery Wards, headquartered out of Chicago.

Restoring the Spirit of Progress

By 1928, only two years later, Wards had opened 244 stores. By 1929 that number had grown to 531-one of which was a new gleaming store in Plymouth opened just days before the stock market crash. Wards adopted a model for its many stores; these were largely constructed in white terra cotta, some with brown brick, and terra cotta details. A few things are dead give-aways of these stores, should you be on the hunt.

Wards Store Restored, 1997

Typically the stores have large upper story windows in either two or three bays; the window openings are curved in the upper corners. The stores also often had terra cotta urns of flowers on piers extending above the parapet. But the primary indicator, though not found on all Wards buildings, is the depiction of the "Spirit of Progress" and sometimes called the "Lady of Industry" that was inspired by the 1893 Chicago Exposition. In 1929 Wards had a large sculpture of the Spirit commissioned (17' tall) and placed on a four story tower it added to its Chicago headquarters on the Chicago River. Unfortunately the Plymouth store's Spirit had its top half broken off to add the modernizing metal panels. We were able to recreate the top perfectly.

A Wards Store in Texas

This all came back to me when my friend at Down the Road sent me a flicker page with a collection of Wards buildings around the country. It is fantastic to see so many in good condition and repurposed. Do you have one?

http://www.flickr.com/photos/army_arch/galleries/72157625743880475/

South Bend, dying?

2011-01-25T12:23:00.004-05:00

An article in Newsweek Magazine recently concluded that South Bend, Indiana is one of 10 "dying" cities in the nation. They joined other Midwestern cities like Detroit and Grand Rapids in the listing, and were the only city in Indiana that made the list.

The listing came from two exclusive criteria of loss in population and a decrease in the 20s-30s population and an increase in its senior population. Frankly, I don't know what city in Indiana doesn't have the same issue, except for Indianapolis. This assumes you take one thing into consideration and that is the increase in the Latino population in virtually every small city across the Hoosier state. But does that count?

Indianapolis is not only the governmental capital of our state, but it is also the cultural and economic center of the state as well. It is the place young people move to, if they don't move out of Indiana. Young people move to the capital for the employment opportunities that exist, but also because of the venues for entertainment and recreation. Indianapolis capitalizes on quality of life opportunities and the remaining state scrambles to keep their lights on....because the taxpayers demand it. We need to come to grips with the fact that all of our cities are dying and what can be termed fiscal prudence on one hand can become a race to the bottom as we swallow ourselves in backward thinking.

I feel for South Bend. And quite frankly, all our small towns can identify more with them than we can with Indianapolis and that should be alarming. If you were to remove the growing Latino population found in each of our small cities, our numbers would likely mirror those of South Bend's. We are the ones suffering from brain drain, we are the ones suffering from a lack of employment opportunities, we are the ones unable or unwilling to even consider quality of life issues in our communities, and we are the ones with an aging population grasping onto power even as we wonder why there is a lack of engagement by a younger public. Just my thoughts.

the way the West won my heart

2011-01-21T13:40:00.006-05:00

Worn out after a trip to Disney Land

As a little kid, our family vacations never went south, north, or east. The car or van would always head west. I remember making several treks out west as a little tike. I remember the long drives that coloring books and comic books would have to help pass. We went to California twice, visiting the Grand Canyon and driving part of Route 66 along the way. In California we went to Disney Land, there was no Disney World yet, stopped by my great Aunt Goldie’s house in Oceanside (my Grandpa Garner’s aunt) and we went to Yosemite National Park. These trips would take us back through Wyoming and Yellowstone National Park.

Riding Methuselah at Reptile Gardens, at 3 years old

It was Yellowstone that our family most visited. We went once to Glacier and to Elkhorn, a ghost town in Montana, but our time in Yellowstone was most memorable. Looking for animals, seeing Old Faithful and the lodge, and taking the annual picture in front of the Yellowstone Falls, these were the things that made the trips memorable. And so was the long, long drives through eastern Wyoming where we looked for “bottoms up” or antelope, and found some respite from the drive at Wall Drug and Reptile Gardens. I remember leaving for the big trip from the truck stop, telling Grandpa and Grandma good bye, then driving nearly all night before stopping at a rest stop to sleep through the night. I thought that was so cool.

Methuselah doesn't give rides today....he looks a little worn out eh? That's my son, 35 years later.

Health Repeal and an OMG moment

2011-01-21T08:20:00.005-05:00

Health Care Repeal Bill (why do I want to pronouce that "beal" with repeal?"):

No one saw this coming, right? There may have been several good inclusions to the President's Health Care Bill, but the fact of the matter is that it doesn't have the beneficial effect of lowering health insurance premiums. It did provide the inability for health insurance companies to deny coverage to children-something we have experienced personally, but in the grand scheme of things, those children could get covered under the Medicare saftey net. Not that I would want to take my chances with that.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again....the only real fix to the high cost of health insurance premiums and health care costs is if we do away with employer provided health insurance. It creates an environment in which insurance costs can quickly rise for businesses due to one employee's health issues and makes independant insurance coverage an almost impossible expense because there is no "pool" in which costs are spread. Your employer doesn't pay for your auto insurance does he? Get it out of the workplace and watch what that will do for stimulating the economy. Health insurance premiums are the biggest drag on business today-surely smart conservatives understand this!

As I was listening to the debate over the repeal bill something clicked with me today that shamefully I had never considered. The discussion was around the republicans' counter-proposal and its inclusion of language prohibiting taxpayer funding of abortions; the counter argument was made that the President's bill put more restrictions on abortions because those wanting to have the procedure would have to take out a separate insurance policy.....at which time the reporter said that roughly 87% of health insurance companies cover abortion procedures.

Wait a minute.....I have Anthem BCBS, one of the largest insurance companies in the country and virtually holding a monopoly in Indiana. Do they cover abortions? So, if they do, then my exorbitant premiums I am paying each month are no doubt going to pay for abortions? My gosh, do you realize this is 10x worse than taxpayer-funded abortions? Not that I am making an argument for federal funding of abortions, but IF tax dollars were going to abortions (which they are not) then as a percentage of what I pay into that may equal 1/1000 of a percent, if that? Compare that to what I pay in in health insurance premiums-the percentage would be much higher because of the nature of it only covering health costs (and the fact I pay more than double for health insurance than I do in taxes!)-so what are we talking here, maybe a full 1%? Ask my wife, I already have huge issues with allowing our money to be used in stocks or other investment methods, or spent at WalMart, because of some pretty conservative beliefs running contrary to the harm it could do. Crap-my insurance premiums are funding abortions! And I already believe Anthem is the devil! The unfortunate thing is that we're stuck with Anthem because of insurance companies' ability to deny coverage to children.

That was a rude awakening for a Friday morning. Makes me wonder why Christians and other pro-life groups aren't out picketing in front of insurance offices.

the gang & young vocals

2011-01-17T08:57:00.011-05:00

The gang at LaPaz

We weren’t jocks-that’s for sure. In fact, I and another buddy were usually the last picked for teams in gym. But I don’t know that we were the geeks either, but in elementary school we had a good gang that often found us at each others’ houses on Friday nights. The gang was Greg, Scott (Mike), Jeff N., Russell, Jeff S., sometimes Ricky, and me. We got together and watched movies and played Star Wars or war outside. There was a falling out our 6th Grade year-I’m not sure why that was, but I do remember being punched by Scott. Scott later came to my defense when I was cornered by a guy we called "watermelon head" because his head was way too large for his body-kids are cruel-I know.

But I also recall my buddies abandoning me when I became trapped in the partially subgrade bathroom by a guy named Dino. Dino was in my class but had obviously flunked a few times given that we were 5th graders and he had a mustache. Dino asked a pretty elementary question during sex education to which I made a smart comment, then told all the girls. Dino came for blood as I cowered in one of the stalls. I remained friends with Jeff S., with whom I would switch to a private school, and Scott. Jeff would become my best man, and I, his. Unfortunately Scott and I drifted apart toward the end of high school, though I could always count on him to want to camp out in our woods.

that's me singing on the right

Elementary music programs

In at least two school programs the music teacher pegged me to be one of the leading vocalist. If there were other programs I participated in, I don’t recall, but I do know that I was one of the children in an elementary school version of “The Sound of Music” and I sang opposite Jill in a 4-H inspired program. I believe we were supposed to be two lovers stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel as we sang “I’m at the top of the world, lookin’ down at creation…”. Then my voice changed and all hope of my rock star career was dashed as my perfect tenor went into a squeaky bass.

LaPaz Elementary

2011-01-16T16:15:00.007-05:00

Kids today simply don’t know the fun of attending a 19th century, or early 20th century for that matter, school building. LaPaz Elementary was the coolest. The earliest part of the building was constructed in the late 1800’s and featured a large tower we were all certain held the remains of troublesome students or ghosts of old teachers. It also featured a stone basement in which we had our art class, and a rickety wood staircase that led to the basement that was condemned my 6th grade year. A newer portion of the building had the classic early 20th century gymnasium with a raised stage and wood bleachers. Connected to that was a large garage area used for storage and for showing films. For some reason one film has stuck with me. It was a documentary of how donuts were made and featured a conveyor type mass production system that inspired me to go home and create on paper a number of other production lines. At the rear of the garage/movie theater was access to a basement under the main part of the building. This is where the older kids went for tornado drills. I remember my older sister telling me that the area frequently flooded, was filled with rats, and was thought to extend as a tunnel clear beneath U.S. 31. While the rats may have existed, I doubt the other stories were true. The other truly interesting thing about our elementary school was the newest portion of the building, constructed during the 1950s I presume, had its second floor connected to the second floor of the old part of the school by means of an elevated and enclosed “catwalk”. I do believe that this was condemned also in my last year there. I remember as we would go single file from one building to the other, we would all jump and stomp hoping that the catwalk would bounce. In our minds anyway, it did. What would have happened had we gone hurdling to the ground below, I’m not sure.

This is a picture of the school "tying yellow ribbons round the old" mulberry tree in the front lawn of the school, in hope for the release of the hostages in Iran

Life as an elementary student of course was exciting. Kindergarten-show and tell. First grade-I had a teacher both my dad and grandmother had, Mrs. Tornquist, who sent me to the Principal’s office for taking a whiz outside. I’ve never forgiven the student who told on me. Mrs. Tornquist-in her tight polyester pants with the old lady underwear showing on the back side-was never endeared to me. Second grade-I broke my arm just before school started and had to have an student assistant-Kim. I also had “fat” as a spelling word and promptly used my teacher’s name in the sentence “Mrs. so-n-so is fat”. I think my broken arm provided the grace I needed. Third grade-I became friends with Jeff, a guy who ended up being the best man in my wedding, and I in his, and am still friends with today. Together we built hangars and airplanes out of paper and pencils. Fourth grade-rather unremarkable. Fifth grade-a split class with a teacher I did not get along with, but it was in that grade I embraced geography and history, which haunts me to this day. Sixth grade-I remember holding a mock presidential debate and since no one else would be on President Carter’s panel I volunteered.

I sure miss the old school. It truly was full of memories for generations of folks in our community.

Life Inventory

2011-01-16T16:08:00.003-05:00

Several weeks ago I started jotting down item after item in a list into a leather bound sketchbook I keep in the coffee table. My wife asked what I was doing.

"Writing my memoirs."

She gave me a sorta disturbed look. And I said "at the end of every great political career, a leader writes his memoirs."

At this she rolled her eyes, smiled, and said I love you....but it was in that, you know, sarcastic tone.

So, Hoosier Happenings is the beneficiary of my "memoirs", which is really just a collection of a bunch of stuff I can still recall. I plan to roll out the series soon....so be watching for "Growing up Red, White and Blue".

can't beat the view

2011-01-14T15:58:00.002-05:00

Last Sunday morning we were treated to quite a sunrise over the snowy landscape across the front pasture. It's times like these that make me forget all about city livin'.

Clinton & Tipton Counties

2011-01-12T15:48:00.007-05:00

Indiana boasts some pretty fabulous courthouses. This past fall found me wandering through both Frankfort in Clinton County and Tipton in Tipton County for separate meetings, and the opportunity presented itself to take a spin around the courthouse squares in these side by side counties.

I met with an individual regarding the Michigan Road in his office in the Clinton County Courthouse. This allowed me the opportunity to climb the great winding staircases of this building. When climbing to the main level and staring up into the rotunda a few employees gave me strange looks to which I said...."I'm just admiring the architecture". They smiled and we both went about our business. I met an old friend for coffee at a coffee shop on the square and we sat outside in view of the building while we caught up on old times. The Clinton County Courthouse was built from Indiana limestone between 1882-84 and was designed by noted Indiana architect George Bunting. Bunting also designed courthouses in Johnson and Madison Counties. For its time the Clinton County Courthouse was an expensive undertaking, nearly three and four times the cost of other courthouses being built in similar sized counties!

The Tipton Courthouse and I go back to 1998 when I spent time in the community on another project. We learned quickly in architecture school that if you really wanted to get into the guts of a building for a tour, tell them you're an architect, or architecture student, and it provides all kinds of backstage passes. So I managed to tour the Tipton County Courthouse and climbed all the way to the top of its clock tower to view the surrounding, very flat, farmland from little windows near the top of the tower that terminates almost 200' above the ground below. The Tipton County Courthouse was constructed between 1893-94 of sandstone and designed by architect Adolf Scherrer. Scherrer took over for Edwin May in overseeing the construction of the new state capitol building in 1880; a project that lasted until 1888.

The 92 Magnificent Indiana Courthouses by Jon Dilts is a great book for anyone interested in our state's courthouses.

life in the cross hairs

2011-01-11T13:34:00.008-05:00

Since Sunday morning when I first became aware of the shootings in Tuscan I have, like a number of Americans, tried to separate emotion from evidence in the situation. And it seems as quickly as I am willing to concede that Laughner was a disturbed individual regardless of gun laws and regardless of the intensity of political debate, those whom I am making concessions for make outrageous remarks that make me feel like I want to throw up.

I think most telling of the environment in which we are now raising the next generation of Americans, isn't necessarily the shootings but it is how those who are calling for more civil dialogue are the ones being villainized.

I debated in my own mind if I should post anything about the shootings because I didn't want to participate in the flurry, or in an uncivil debate, but then I realized that either I am the minority or part of a silent majority that must to speak up about this issue.

Now, I am not of the belief that Laughner's actions are wholly the responsibility of loose gun laws or violence-laced dialogue by radio show hosts or politicians......but I do believe two things are very clear 1) this man should by no means have had a gun legally-I don't know how anyone could argue the contrary and 2) weak-minded and disturbed people would be prone to personalize rhetorical attacks and lash out at who they feel are threatening them.

I think its just "swell" that our congressmen are saying how we need to tone down the rhetoric. But are they willing to tell Limbaugh and Beck to shut up? NO WAY....their audiences are their constituents, and hosts take great pride in knowing that they can sway elections with their words. I am a firm believer in the freedom of speech, but there is no longer any personal responsibility or self-control when it comes to what is dripping out of the mouths of these people. Rush's statements yesterday literally made me sick to my stomach.....he was engendering fear in his audience by saying that because people like Sheriff Dupnik, who some right-wingers are calling to resign, say that the Nation needs to do "soul searching" in our discourse, is a step toward outlawing statements that challenge Democratic positions. I said two days ago, when the question was raised if this would calm the political climate, that I thought in fact it would only turn up the heat.....and I think I'm being proven right.

While I believe that we should all act with ethics, I want to challenge fellow Christians with these next statements. I know many of you listen to these guys-like Limbaugh and Beck. I want you to listen with new ears; I challenge you to make some spiritual discernment if what you are feeding your spirit is for building up, or tearing down.....is it Christ-like? I'm not saying that everything these guys stand for is wrong, but you also need to judge what that is doing to your spiritual life, and how is it contributing to how you interact with or view others. If you are somehow equating what is being said with some form of spiritual superiority-it's time you understand these guys are feeding off of you....and making a heck of a lot of money doing so. They are not somehow saviours of our democracy-they are out to make a buck off of the most rage-inspired speech they can come up with. How on earth does that align with Christ's teachings? And I think that it is important to note here that I once was an avid Rush listener.....but I matured both intellectually and spiritually. The only "cross hairs" we should be viewing people through is the cross.

I fear for the Nation that we are becoming. I know that while I served my community I was on the receiving end of a lot of personal attacks and conspirorist dialogue....even being called a fascist myself because I thought we should have minimal housing standards like electricity and working plumbing. As a Nation are we truly this ignorant, that we cannot see what is happening? If so, God help our children because bedlam surely follows.

this wild life.....

2011-01-08T08:55:00.003-05:00

I just wanted to share a few pictures of our wild life here on the Hill. The doe below was literally 20 feet from our kitchen window and hung out there well into our morning. The bottom shot is of a small flock of bluebirds that feasted on the berries of the large cedar trees in front of the house.

through the mud

2011-01-06T09:16:00.004-05:00

Would you crawl on your hands and knees through mud and manure? What if it meant being stepped on and kicked along the way? What if you barely had any life in your bones?

Sunday's sermon got me thinking a little. The title was "resolve" playing off the new year's resolutions theme, but the word that left an impression was "effort". This only made a slight impression on my brain, but the next day I caught a short clip about the woman who reached out and touched Christ's garment and how she likely was crawling to do so. All of a sudden the thought of putting forth an effort to grow in my faith took on a whole new meaning.

How do you imagine the woman who had faith that she would be healed if she only touched the hem of Christ's robe? Do you imagine her simply pushing her way through a crowd? That's how I thought of her until recently. But the probable reality is that being weakened from a life-long ailment, she crawled to Christ. The reality is that Christ was surrounded by a pressing mob who would have had the woman underfoot. The reality is that the streets were strewn with manure from cattle and horses and sewage being emptied onto the streets from homes. The reality is that this was no simple squeezing her way through people to extend her hand; this was desperation, pain, and strain to reach the hem. Now, THAT'S FAITH!

Too often the effort in growing in our faith is made to seem clinical. It's a three step process of reading our Bible, praying, and surrounding ourselves with other Christians. To be frankly honest-none of those compare to the effort the woman showed. Oh sure, those are all good things but how much does it really make you grow in your faith? I think that growth happens in the ugliness of life....the tough times......the times we're in the mud and getting kicked. The times that the crowd, maybe even the Christian crowd (for they too wanted to be around Christ), is preventing us from reaching Christ.

The stranger fact is that this woman PUT HERSELF THROUGH IT! It's not as though she was plunged into the mire-she chose to crawl through it. And THAT is what made me stop and think about my own life. It's not as though I haven't had a few tough times here and there which have resulted in personal growth-but I never chose those times, they were thrust upon me. I wrote a few posts back that I felt that God and I were in a bit of a stale-mate, that one of us were in check. The fact of the matter is that right now, I'm not willing to crawl through the muck. I want to touch the hem, but can't find the steam to do so. If it were only as simple as squeezing my way through the crowd, I might put forth the effort......but seriously God, you want me to do more than that? More than read my Bible and pray?

I guess it's time to get dirty....just when I thought I was done with that.

Modern Conveniences

2011-01-04T15:57:00.008-05:00

It says a lot about what to expect in the coming year of blogging when the first post of the new year is about toilets.

When we bought the farm a year ago I was intrigued by the little outhouse in the backyard. I can't say that I always wanted a farm with an outhouse-I'm not that nuts. But it was a nice relic of by-gone days and certainly added to the rural charm. And I figured....it may even come in handy.

So, though the little building was in excellent shape already, I set out to complete minor restoration this summer that resulted in a fresh coat of paint and securing the metal roof. A friend saw the building and said "that's a WPA toilet". Well, I have heard of these, and know of one other in the county. She got down on her knees in the privy and pointed out the stamped mark on the concrete base. Sure enough she said...."a WPA".

The New Deal encouraged things other than public building construction, it also encouraged through the offering of labor, improved rural sanitation via a new outhouse. The WPA had teams of men who would go out into rural areas and build the standard, government approved, privy. The most intriguing story concerning this I found at this link: http://www.eagleplume.com/Outhouse.htm It gives an account of how the WPA Privy came to be the most widely recognized outhouse form all due to some frank nagging to FDR.

So, at roughly 80 years of age, this little building has a warmer place in my heart today than it did a year ago. I may even re-electrify it....yep, that's right, the little building has a small wire and insulator attached to the side indicating that indeed, even at night, one could relieve themselves in the comfort of an improved and lighted, modern privy.

I Predict for 2011

2010-12-31T15:20:00.009-05:00

There's a certain local celebrity who has been invited to do predictions for the new year for maybe close to a decade now. I've borne the brunt of some of those predictions-mostly positive if I recall correctly. His latest were released this week which put me in the mood to participate in this divination of prophesying. So, here's my Nostradomus attempt-all in good fun:

Tea Party Poopers
While the teapot may have come to a boil in 2010, I think that 2011 will see the Tea Party run out of steam. It’s like a good guy film-if there’s no villain or bloodshed, then it’s really not a guy film, it’s a chick-flick. Without Pelosi, the Tea Party has become a chick-flick.

Exploratory Candidate-Elect
Run or not to run. After Hoosiers realize they’ve been drinking from the punch bowl and are suffering from a severe hang-over, Mitch's popularity will tank as Indiana’s economic “rebound” once again puts us even farther behind the rest of the country. It will be the rest of the nation that ultimately has to tell the emperor he has no clothes as they say in unison “not my man Mitch”.

Election Year?
River City elections will be a sleeper. No, more like comatose. Some will view it as a landslide; others will see it as a lost cause. Just like in 1982 when the little town took on Goliath in basketball and the whole city left for Indianapolis, I think it’s safe to say again “last one out, turn off the lights”.

Wastimulus
Believing that Democrats shouldn’t create all the waste in government spending, Republicans in Indiana are plowing new ground with all of the road construction projects underway. One would think this a good thing-a sign of progress….until you realize that county officials are spending close to $10 million per minute saved in getting around River City with a new “beltway”. Running out of former elected heroes’ names ironically the new $20 million beltway will be named for the most conservative official to have ever served in the county. Problem is, she’s a Democrat. I propose to you “Konya Highway”. Ultimately she’ll decline the honor because lettering on the sign would cost more than simply “7th”.

It's the Economy Stupid
Speaking of pork barrel spending, Republicans will bring it to a halt once they arrive on the Hill. Then they’ll realize that waste was paving their roads and paying for their police. The economy will bump ever so slowly upward-some will say it is the result of the continuing Bush-era tax cuts, which is why the economy is in such a robust state today, others will say it is because of stimulus spending, and still others will say there is no recovery. This prediction’s accuracy depends on where you get your information. If it is from Mitch and Obama-we’re doing great, if it is from the Tea Party, Mitch's Budget Office, and Republicans on Capitol Hill-we need change.

Byways-Sideways
Both the Lincoln Highway and Historic Michigan Road will gain state byway status this year, not only bringing new economic opportunities to more than 50 Indiana communities, but for the first time bringing this heritage tourism tool to the northern half of the state. In the same breath I think it is safe to predict that one metropolitan planning organization will have mucho egg on their face for being the only group to not endorse the byways, proving that their purview of “regional initiatives” is nothing but lip service and road blocks.

The Great Reformation
More weight will be given to the Kernan-Shepard report as Indiana legislators and the Governor attempt to streamline government by consolidating power doing away with unnecessary democracy. As a GOP vs. GOP battle ensues the realization will be that we shouldn’t stop with doing away with township government and portions of county government, but we can probably do away with a fair amount of state government. It reminds me of “first they came for the trustees, but I didn’t care, I wasn’t a trustee, then they came for the commissioners, but I didn’t care, I wasn’t a commissioner, then they came for me and I looked around and there was no one to defend me”.

Indiana's E(ab)d(i)ucation System
Anytime I hear some form of education reform rolled out I think our kids get a little dumber. Can someone tell me why with all of the reform of the last 20 years our kids continue to fall further and further behind? Can someone explain why teachers spend more time being tested than teaching? Indiana will finally figure out they need to let teachers teach-a true epiphany. Any principal or administrator worth their salt will know if a teacher is failing in the classroom-but they can’t do that if teachers aren’t able to spend time actually teaching.

I hope that you have a spectacular 2011, that God enriches all of your lives whether or not we see eye to eye politically, and that someday division is only found in math books.

Christmas at Sycamore Hill

2010-12-31T13:16:00.005-05:00

It seems strange to discuss the wonderful white Christmas we had for our first here on the Hill when the house is currently being enveloped by fog after thunder and lightning just this morning. But this is Indiana.

My kids were genuinely concerned that Santa might have a hard time finding them this year since we changed addresses. Particularly concerning to them was the fact that we had no fireplace here like we did in town. I tried to relieve those fears by saying "we still have a chimney" and I suppose Santa participates in the USPS forwarding program-so we should be good. But just in case my daughter insisted we leave the little door built into the cabinet under the chimney in our living room wide open. Easy enough.

This first Christmas here needed to have a spectacular tree. Reeling from the sticker shock I have already circled a selection of Balsam Firs in the new tree/seed catalogs that came out. 20 trees for $40 in 10 years when the first is ready to harvest would be much cheaper than the $80 a tree they will be costing at that time.

We drive to Lafayette each Christmas Eve to spend the day with my wife's mother's side who hail from that area. On the way back we had our traditional Christmas Eve supper at McDonalds in Rochester. I built up the anticipation around a special event that evening which I insist will become a new tradition for the family. When we returned home the kids grabbed their flashlights and I my Coleman lantern and together the family climbed the hill at the back of the farm and sang Silent Night. I asked if there were requests for other carols and there was a resounding NO. But I think they had fun regardless.

Christmas day the kids were up bright and early as would be expected. Santa didn't disappoint. A camera and ice skates for my daughter and a football, football game, and football cards for my son. I received a Carhart jacket. My wife's favorite gift was a cheap antique ring I picked up the week before. Then off to my folks for brunch. Last night was the last of our Christmases as we celebrated with my wife's family. The perfect gift-tickets to see Garrison Keillor-was wrapped waiting for me. That seemed to round out a perfect Christmas season.

Out with the Old-In with the New

2010-12-30T09:38:00.003-05:00

This post is dedicated to Aunt Pat.

OK-I have no idea who actually reads this blog anymore....but I have had a few complaints in the last several weeks due to my lack of blogging. It's not that I don't have some posts rattling around in my head-there is plenty of fodder out there. It's just that I feel so completely uninspired.

So when I mentioned that to Aunt Pat on Christmas Eve, she said to allow her to be my inspiration. So here goes it....

2010 was a bummer of a year for me. I make no bones about it. I'm not sure what led to that, or why it felt so pronounced, but this lack of inspiration has come from an absolute loss of passion...about much of anything. I feel like I'm living in paradise here on the Hill, but there's this overwhelming feeling of disillusionment that I just can't shake. As if I'm a race horse in my prime that's been prohibited to run any races-just sit on the sidelines and watch the old gray mares make a mess of things. How appropriate I'm surrounded by pastures....to be "put out".

So-try I will to shake the funk in the new year....which has led to at least this one resolution. I resolve to blog, more. I'm anxious to get 2010 behind me, though it did lead to a few good things which would be wrong if I didn't acknowledge them:

We moved to this great farm "Sycamore Hill"

God continued to bless with new work &

the Historic Michigan Road State Byway nomination was officially submitted last week.

Those were the highlights. 2011 looks very promising as the state should officially adopt the byway, we plan to finish interior work on the farmhouse, and contracts for 2011 already equal half of the contracts I received for 2010. We have SIX weddings in 2011. Does that seem crazy?

Another thing I plan to do in 2011 is to go back to a few things I was passionate about 20 years ago, and reframe some of my thinking around those and develop those as a way to move forward. They were things that were valuable outlets for me that I put aside when my focus became "outward". And as wrong as this may sound, I'd kinda like to do some things for myself for a change.

Sorry if this post seems rambly-it's the nature of breaking through writer's block. I have a 2011 predictions list rambling around in my head that I hope to get to soon....I think that you'll enjoy it.

Incidently, from our family to yours, Happy Thanksgiving (yes it has been that long), Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!

Loss of the last true Public Servant

2010-11-13T13:28:00.007-05:00

My great aunt, center, on the night she received the Sagamore from

First Lady Maggie Kernan, on the left

The elections last week and the republican, or tea party, hysteria surrounding them provided a huge win to liberals locally.

Liberals you ask? HR, what are you smokin'...it was the ultra-right that were voted in last week! True. With one huge exception. The absolutely MOST FISCALLY CONSERVATIVE elected official I have ever known was voted out of office. Why? Because she happened to have a D after her name. With almost 50 years experience she was replaced by someone that has been alive for only 20 of those 50 years and who has promised to spend our tax dollars. You see, lack of experience or fiscal prudence means nothing so long as you have an R after your name. Something we know all too well here in Republicania County.

In 1962 my great aunt began serving the people of our township as deputy trustee; since 1970, elected as their trustee. She has consistently worked to maintain the lowest tax rate of any township in the county (remarkably, we are the only Democratic hold out in a Republican county-how's that work?). Regardless, at 89, it is probably time for her to enjoy retirement. She represents a different kind of politician...she represents what we used to refer to as a public servant. Honestly, I don't know many elected officials that can claim that attribute and certainly not to the standard my aunt can.

In 2001 the Governor awarded her the high honor of the Sagamore of the Wabash. I've seen this awarded to individuals for political purposes; in this instance it was an overdue payment for a life of service. Few people embody the words written by the prophet Micah in chapter 6 and verse 8: You know what is good, and what the Lord requires of you: love mercy, do justly, and walk humbly before your God. My aunt is just and merciful and humble beyond belief. She is a firm believer in self-reliance, but would be the first to lend a hand in practice of the Golden Rule.

My aunt has forever left a mark on the people of the township she has called home all her life, as a friend and neighbor in the truest meaning of the word. No better public servant has walked this Hoosier soil.

Dribble

2010-11-11T22:15:00.003-05:00

Today was a tough day.

Veterans Day rolls around each year and it takes me to a point in my life four years ago that normally I don't mind being reminded of. This year it bothered me.

I understand that there are times in our Christian walk that God chooses to be silent. I understand that there are times when we are to just wait. I get that. But I think the difficult thing to is understand where He has led you to and then seemingly leaves you to fade away.

I suppose any number of stories from the Old Testament would seem an appropriate parallel. I had someone throw the "wandering the desert" line. It is difficult to see that from here.

What I wish for more than anything these days, maybe more accurately what I am frustrated with God over, is what I understand that I wish I didn't. My life would be so, so much easier if I didn't see through the crap....if I were just the average white evangelical republican sitting in my big comfy church. If I could just blindly follow and not know any different.

But instead I am stuck with what I know and it has paralyzed me.

I relayed the story of my "epiphany" four years ago to an old friend this morning. It still sounded right.....but it didn't feel like it was my story anymore. I felt like I was talking about someone I knew a long time ago. For me it seems like the stories have all been written and we know how each one will end....so there is very little use in the pursuit. Yet my friends were pushing pursuit.

There are times when I feel like taking a stand-kicking some backside. But I wait...religiously, I wait. Ideally I would just not care about the community circles I am a part of-because I don't see the possibility for change.

I don't know what the big guy is trying to teach me, but I am more than willing to listen. I am His bound servant...but the chains are wearing on me.

The day we found Home

2010-11-05T21:46:00.009-04:00

This was the conversation at the coffee shop exactly one year ago today:

"you really need to go look at this farm for sale"

"Dan, we JUST finished our house...we are not moving!"

"seriously-if for no other reason-you need to take a look at the awesome barn...follow me out there"

"mmm...ok, I guess"

Can anyone guess what happened? I'm still not exactly sure myself. Here's the thing about Sycamore Hill...and I don't know that I can convey it correctly in words...but I'll try. You see, I always wanted to have a cabin out in the woods somewhere far outside of town. It seemed that it would balance our living in town if I could just have that little get-away. Fact of the matter is that it was one of three main "dreams" in my life that I had boiled down after going through this great book about dreaming and living. I had three that I wanted to accomplish in no particular order: 1) go out on my own with my own business focused on historic preservation (check), 2) have that little retreat cabin in the woods and 3) transform politics as we know it. I'm counting moving to Sycamore Hill as #2, though last weekend I had scoped out a great place for a cabin on our property near the creek. Dream #3 seems like a pretty crazy-far out goal, but I also can't believe that within 4 years God would have accomplished the first two.

So I followed my buddy Dan out to this place he kept telling me about over coffee that Thursday morning. Something about the place settled deep in my spirit not more than a few minutes on the property. I went home and told my wife as she was standing in the bathroom that I thought I had found "our place in the country" (it was in the exact same location she told me she was pregnant-I just realized that as I was typing). She asked if we could move right in and I said I thought so, and I wanted to take the kids to see it after school. She was concerned enough to sneak out to the farm with a friend and peer in the windows. She came home that afternoon and said that unless something was seriously wrong....let's do it.

So the kids got off the school bus and we headed out to "the hill". The rest was captured in photos from that afternoon. My wife snapped this picture with the sun shining down on me and I often wonder if I look lost or found in it. Two weeks later our offer was accepted and a week later our house went on the market and a week after that we had sold our house in town. This became a pretty major shift in how we saw our future. No looking back.

Several years back I told my wife I had come up with the perfect name for our place in the country-wherever that would be. I've been so inspired over the years in traveling across the Hoosier state and seeing grand old sycamore trees standing sentry along our waterways. I love those trees with their white bark catching the sun. I told my wife if we ever had a place we would call it Sycamore Hill and if it didn't have a sycamore tree...I would just plant one. So imagine the connection that I immediately felt when I saw this ancient sycamore standing vigil on the hill by the pasture, and many of its offspring lining the creek. It felt like God was saying welcome home.

Of course, not everything has gone as planned. There is still a great deal of work to be done, even from the list of work I had planned for the interior of the house in its first year. But we've had a great deal of fun growing into the place. Another interesting aspect is that the man who built the house came to this county in 1834 to build the Michigan Road. Now, 175 years later, I'm working to establish the Michigan Road Byway.

This morning during our regularly scheduled coffee time I mentioned that it was the one year anniversary and Dan asked...."so, how do you feel about it?" I think a lot of that depends on my mood....but even now as I see the snow falling over this piece of natural serenity I don't see how it could be anything but good.

the sun also rises...

2010-10-16T15:23:00.003-04:00

Given the general position of our place in the country, we've been witness to a number of spectacular sunrises. This morning's was exceptional. The fog, diffused light, and silhouettes worked in perfect harmony to make this one blog-worthy. I'm just not sure the photo does it justice. At times I get disappointed we don't have the best seats in the house for similar drama to sunsets, but I'll take the life metaphor to sunrise vs. sunset any day of the week....particularly since I add another year to my life tomorrow.

maybe I've got it all wrong...

2010-10-15T09:29:00.003-04:00

I just viewed a short clip of Jackie Walorski stumping on the campaign trail and a brief interview with her after her speech. I sent the link to a friend, more because of its references to Gary, Indiana than because of the campaign rhetoric. And then I found myself typing these words that proved to sum up one of the great internal struggles nagging at me lately:

maybe i've got this political thing all wrong....maybe i should have shot my mouth off throwing in the words america and constitution more often for no apparent reason. maybe i shouldn't have let faith and conscience get in the way of my pursuits. maybe my anger and bitterness should have been turned to something more productive like winning elections

How many more days do we have before this election? And I'm convinced we've not seen the worse yet. I'd like to believe that there is a day in America's future where decent people are elected to office with a heart to serve their fellow man and not their party. Where the words spoken aren't empty clangings spun to win elections or fan flames of hate. Where the church in America has finally broken the political bondage it has entrapped itself in negating its usefulness to reach a dying world.

I guess this is why I am called idealistic.

testing the theory

2010-10-06T15:49:00.003-04:00

I found the need to be in Tipton today over the lunch hour. So, having always wanted to stop here......I did. And I sat at the counter and ordered a huge bowl of some pretty awesome chili. I recommend this stop to all my readers out there.

And yes, I know, I need to get back at this blogging thing.

stinging words from 1985

2010-09-28T09:04:00.003-04:00

We are still sorting through boxes that were quickly stacked in our rush to move this past January. That led me to the basement over the weekend to sort through a few odds and ends that seemed to be better off at Goodwill than our basement. But then there were a few items that seemed better to be packed into my "trunk" which is a virtual time capsule of my high school and college days.

Now-where did I put the trunk? I just found that while cleaning out the closet. So this morning I pulled out the trunk and once I opened it, realized that everything became a jumbled mess in the move. So I began to pull out the relics, and ruins, from my past and came across something I wrote in October of 1985....25 years ago when I was a naive 17 year old.

"only when I live my life at its very best will it be a benefit to others, only a life lived to benefit others is a life worth living"

The words stung.

Then I came across the picture above (that's PNW on the right) and remembered who it was that wrote those words. I think that helped reset my compass so to speak.

Summer's Last Snapshots

2010-09-25T11:14:00.005-04:00

Going through our photo files from the summer I realized, with the exception of a few storms, life was pretty quiet around here. The new place offered some pretty amazing snapshots from sunrises to storms. While it was a common occurrence to have coffee in the barn on Thursday mornings with some buddies, I had wanted to dine at least once with the family before the weather turned cold. We managed that last week.....and just in time....they were talking "windchill" this morning!

Open letter to Jackie & Joe:

2010-09-19T20:38:00.004-04:00

Health Insurance Companies are the Devil.

I felt that I needed to get that off my chest before going into our latest saga with health insurance. Two years ago I wrote about how Anthem Blue Cross-Blue Shield accepted the other members of my family but rejected me because I had been to a chiropractor for a pulled muscle I got while working out. Finally after appeals and even paying for a month of insurance when they had refused to insure me, they finally took me as "high risk".

Last year we were informed that our insurance was going up 12% (keep in mind here that this is considered catastrophic coverage and that we have never made a claim). This year (after having the insurance for only 2 years!), our coverage was going up an additional 20%. 32% in two years. So, we went looking elsewhere....

Golden Rule, after spending hours on the phone, finally sent us a package (after demanding we pay in advance 1 month). This time I was considered "preferred" (amazing what can happen in 2 years) but our 10 year old, perfectly healthy, son was rejected. The reason? He has sensory issues-which means he doesn't like certain foods and is agitated by bright lights. They said "we don't cover children with any kinds of issues."

Anyone out there that doesn't believe that we need health insurance reform in this country is an imbecile and doesn't have a clue what it is doing to our economy. The Republicans, after sweeping elections in 1994, fought back against health reform in this country. For 14 years the problem grew worse and when Democrats finally were the first to have the guts to do something, they fell short of any kind of meaningful insurance reforms. And now the Republicans are stoking the fire so that they can take over and go back to the way things were.

So, Jackie & Joe......what are you going to do about it? Reform has fallen short of a true remedy to the problem and if the answer is to go back to the way things were it clearly shows you don't understand the issues at hand and aren't qualified to be in Congress.

My answer? End employer provided health insurance. Then EVERYONE will be mad as heck and demand reform. Until then the voter will just go with whichever numskull seems to say what we want to hear-not what is needed.

the wrong kind of settling

2010-09-16T20:36:00.008-04:00

Looking at my buddy's barn a few weeks ago, I offered my thoughts on what might be wrong:

"well.......it's settling"

I have a profound knowledge of the obvious

Then I started to laugh and he said "Reborn! Don't be laughin' at my barn!"

I told him that I needed to come back with a camera...that it was one of the funniest things I've ever seen in the biz.

Now, there is plenty of good settling. Seriously. In all things be content the scriptures say....and I think that the two are fairly interchangeable. But I think that there is plenty of bad settling too. It's characteristic of our lazy society to "settle". Right now we settle for half-truths spouted out by politicians rather than do the hard work of thinking. And we settle for second best-constantly.....second best in our expectations of what life could be, of what our communities could be. And as we settle for second-best, all of a sudden what we have settled for has slipped to third, then fourth place. And the sad fact of the matter is that we don't see it.

Kind of like that overgrown patch of mess growing behind my garage that has covered the aluminum canopies that once graced our front windows, but were removed within a week of living here. At first I thought "I'll just stick these back here until I can take them to the salvage yard" and before I knew it, spring had sprung and slowly the pile was covered by summer vegetation. And now I don't even notice it.

Seriously? You don't notice it? Everyone that visits Sycamore Hill notices it.

This is the wrong kind of settling. And so is allowing things to numb us to the point that we've lost our passion for the things we once cared so deeply about. I've been experiencing that numbness I never thought was possible and I can't decide if it is settling, or if it is contentment. I've had conversations with two people in the last week and both recognized a sort of passion when I talked about historic preservation or a Christian's role in local social justice issues.

It seems though as quickly as the eyes light up something else shuts down. I think it may be an insular response. It may be my way of accepting the wrong kind of settling. I like to blame God for this one-at least I'm honest here. Sometimes I have this image of God and me standing 100' apart, both with our arms folded waiting for the other to make the first move. And I think, geesh, I've moved a lot in the last four years. Time for You to move big guy.

I played my kids in checkers and chess last night. Both were checkmated. I'm ruthless, I know. One of us is in checkmate and I'm not sure who it is.

The Last Supper in the Dunes

2010-09-16T15:23:00.009-04:00

If there is one thing that I have most enjoyed about doing whatever it is I do for a living, it is meeting some really fascinating folks, who have become fast friends or maybe in them I've found some sort of kindred spirit. Such was the case in my meeting Herb and Charlotte Read at their home in the Indiana Dunes. And I was reminded of this, and my purpose in meeting them, again today when I received an invitation to "The Last Supper".

I was contacted about a year ago to visit with the Reads regarding the eligibility of their house for the National Register of Historic Places. I pulled into the driveway and was immediately skeptical. The house seemed like a fairly ordinary ranch house. Then a remarkable story began to unfold.

Herb and Charlotte, both in their mid-80s have lived in the house since Herb's parents passed away. Herb, an architect from Chicago, designed the house to be integrated with the dunes-scape....something he achieved with perfection. It was Herb's long-standing passion for the Indiana Dunes that allowed such a marriage of a man & nature carved creation. It was Herb's continual vigilance in protecting and preserving the dunes that has led to this "Last Supper".

Herb is the third generation of his family who have advocated for the protection of the dunes, their family's involvement has stretched back to the early 1900s when Herb's father, Philo, began hiking the dunes with the group from Chicago known as the Saturday Walking Club. Jens Jensen was the most notable member of the club and the Reads met Jensen in 1908. From that time forward the family pushed and pushed for conservation of this most remarkable landscape. The Reads lobbied for the creation of the dunes state park and for the creation of a national park that would ensure the protection of the fragile ecosystem.

The fight went on for decades and the small house nestled in the dunes became the staging ground for the battle that would go from shoreline to Indianapolis, and finally catch the attention of President Kennedy when the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore was created. The fight against the steel mills and refineries would see significant losses to the area's most treasured resources; however, the fact that there is anything left of the dunes should be credited in large part to the Reads. Herb's tenacity as an activist shaped by his in-depth understanding of both engineering and environment made him a formidable foe in refuting false information that was being heard on Capitol Hill. Herb became the Mr. Smith who went to Washington.

My favorite story recalled by Herb was the gala affair that brought mayors and the governor to a ground breaking of a new steel mill on the most pristine dunes recently leveled. While the conservationists charged that massive contamination was occurring in Lake Michigan from the mill, authorities refuted it. So Herb's crew placed fine linens across a table at the event and appeared to be offering refreshing water by a bikini-wearing server. As the news reporters and camera men drew closer it was discovered that sludge was being poured out of the pitcher and being offered to guests.....sludge that came from the lake near the mill.

There is more to this story than could possibly be written about here, but you probably are wondering why "the Last Supper". In order to create the national lakeshore Herb convinced neighbors during the 1960s to give a life lease to the federal government to create a critical block of land for the park. Many years later the life lease was changed to a termination date....that happens to be the end of September, 2010. No latitude is being shown for the handful of folks who are in their 80s-the vacate notice has been served and the homes are to be demolished. Hence, the Reads "Last Supper" with friends and conservationists with whom they have fought the good fight. I'm incredibly honored to be among the guests-I assume there are more than 13 at this supper.

The Read Dunes House is certainly eligible for the National Register. The appropriate documents were created and the state historic preservation office made the determination. However, it goes against the will of the lakeshore to save the house and so there is a bit of a stalemate in what happens next. I don't think that it looks promising. There home is currently preserved as a testament to the conservation of the dunes.....the inside of their home is as close to a museum for such as could ever be created.

It seems a sad commentary on the national lakeshore to do away with the last vestige of those who maintained the "continual vigilance" in preserving what has been described as the most complex ecosystem in the United States second only to Yellowstone National Park. We Americans often fall short in honoring those whose broad shoulders have held back the waves that would destroy either the beauty of our country or people without a voice. The Reads have some of the broadest shoulders I have seen to date.

9 Fractured 1 America 1

2010-09-11T16:33:00.005-04:00

I don't know that I have written much about September 11th on this blog. There is some sanctity that it should be afforded and Hoosier Happenings I guess never seemed the venue for writing about it. But here it is. The 9th anniversary of the horror.

So, where were you? I remember distinctly the events of that morning. I drove to work, stopping by the local chamber of commerce office to have some paperwork signed on the way. Then sat down and within about 15 minutes had pulled up the news on-line. From then through the rest of the day I don't remember much except being fixed on the trauma unfolding in front of my eyes. I remember driving back home for lunch and meeting another car at a four-way intersection...there was just this sort of dazed stare coming from the other driver, and probably from me. A silver lining is that my son took his first steps that day-which has become the easy way to do the math in my head on how old he was when he took those steps.

People said we would never be the same again. I think that lasted about a year.

I believe it is important to understand what drove the events of that day. It is important for us to understand that we were so hated by extremists, and still are, because of who we are, what we look like, what we stand for, where we live....and no doubt "Christian" probably plays into this. That sounds a bit racist, right? Intolerant, right? Singled out?

So, this is what's been going through my mind: our response to a mosque near Ground Zero and the evangelical pastor in Florida wanting to burn Korans. And I'm trying to figure out if there is any less hate involved in either of these. Do I think building a mosque near Ground Zero is a good idea? Of course not, but it doesn't mean that we get to pick and choose whose rights we protect and whose we don't. And in my life I have always been careful to not criticize any pastor but I'm going to say this....if a Christian is one who models Christ, regardless of this "pastor's" profession of faith, in my book the guy is a wolf in sheep's clothing. If he honestly believes God was telling him to act out in such a way, his god is not the same God I serve.

My pastor recently was asking me about some of the history of our community, since he is new here and all. He asked about some specific issues and I said that racism is a huge problem. Then later I thought to myself, is that right? Or am I overly sensitive to responses I've witnessed with the Latino population? It took only two days later to understand that no, indeed, the hatred we have for others who don't look like us is alive and well here in river city. My wife and I were standing in line at Marbucks when we overhead an employee talking with a customer...

yeah, Obamacare is going to take care of me you know...

right....you know what I think? they oughta let the guys in white sheets take care of him...

I was mortified. But honestly, based on all the crap I hear, and am forwarded-I guess this wasn't that much of a leap. I have to believe that at least 50% of the ill-feelings toward the president are generated out of bigotry....at least from the comments I hear. I guess maybe our hatred isn't driving us to aim planes at tall buildings but it continues to eat away at our civilization, whether black, Latino, or middle-eastern. And we call ourselves a Christian nation? I don't get for the life of me how we are modeling Christ-it certainly isn't through Glen Beck (he's not unlike the wolf above). I see it so rarely that as much as Christians like to think we are.....we might want to take a look in the mirror to see if it is the lamb, or wolf.