"Come into my kitchen and let's talk about pots and pans." You may be thinking, "What is so exciting about that subject?"

I'm very particular about how my pans look. I want them shiny clean so I use stainless steel with copper bottoms, which of course need an appropriate cleaner each time the pans are used. I do not feel this is time consuming, I just do it. "Copper-Glo"is the brand name I use but it has become hard to find and my husband has discovered another suitable brand, "Bar Keepers Friend" so that is what we use currently.

I have never had a dishwasher so this job has always been done by hand. I do not want to give up my cupboard space to a dishwasher. When our house was built in 1964 a dishwasher was not a necessity in the kitchen, however today a kitchen without a dishwasher is just not a kitchen, or so some think. Frankly I always found dish washing a good time to think and solve the world's problems. Since my stroke in April of 2008, Bill has assumed a lot of my household duties and since he used to help me and we together would talk and "solve the world's problems", now I am the one who helps unless it becomes too tiresome to stand for long periods. Another household chore, ironing, is something I like to do and that gives me another opportunity to think while I press the wrinkles out of clothes (that is, what clothes are not the permanent press kind). And because I have an adjustable ironing board I can set it at a convenient level for me to use while sitting down. But, back to the kitchen!

I have a couple iron skillets in my collection which are seldom used anymore but at one time I relied on them heavily. The iron skillet does make great fried potatoes, crispy edges, you know.

Now to when my "particular-ness" goes out the window. I have two electric skillets that are horrible looking, yet I wouldn't give them up for anything. The small one I wrote about in June 2006 is one of these "horrible looking" ones. See "MR. FIXIT" - This poor little skillet is still working after Bill fixed it three times, replacing the original Bakelite handle twice, once with oak and the most recent was made with maple. It is not non-stick and you dare not scour it with a metal scouring pad because that takes off, I will call it, the patina. Do that and your great fried egg soon becomes a scrambled egg because it "sticks to the pan". You can use a plastic scrubber on it but that's as far as you dare go. This little skillet has been around for years and seems to be like the Eveready Bunny--it keeps on working! I have another small skillet ready "in the wings" when the time comes that Bill can't fix it anymore.

There's another skillet in our kitchen, a large Sunbeam which was given to us as a Christmas gift in 1957 or 1958 (when we were in Hobbs, New Mexico) and it is still working! We only use it for one or two things - making corn cakes or French toast, Bill's favorite. (Since my recent bout with the diabetes issue French toast and Corn Cakes are a rare treat.) Saturday mornings were our time for something special, either the corn cakes or French toast with Mrs. Maple's LITE syrup, from Aldi's. This old skillet makes the greatest with either of these treats. I have a special recipe I dreamed up for the Corn Cakes - not from a mix.

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After starting this missive a year ago I might as well take it out of the can and publish it. Those who know us will recognize our peculiar ways in this story and hopefully those who do not know us will see some virtues of my wife Jean, that have been the impetus to make our marriage work since June 3, 1951. It's been sometime since my wife has appeared on this site so I thought it past time to share some more of her writings. Jean is a disciplined journalist and "pots 'n pans" is only one example how meticulous her routines have been through the years. She has enjoyed a pen-pal relationship with an English lady since entering high school -- that's around sixty years; and she got serious about a regular family journal when we adopted our children. Writing, you can see, is a very important part of life to my wife. The journal was started in 1967 and she has written nearly 6,500 pages (3-ring binder notebook pages mainly).

THE WORDWRIGHT

"PRINCIPAL - First in rank, authority, importance, degree, etc." Next, the same sounding word is not as easy to define: "PRINCIPLE - The ultimate source, origin or cause of something, and the third suggested meaning is a further application of this root meaning: "A fundamental truth, law or doctrine, or motivating force, upon which others are based (like, moral principles)".

Life, as we know it on Planet Earth, is determined by absolutes. There are those who prefer to think otherwise but absolutes cannot be ignored. Try jumping off a ten story building and claim the absolute of gravity will not apply. Try putting your hand in a crucible of molten lead (which becomes liquid at approximately 540 degrees Fahrenheit) and leave it there for just 30 seconds. Consider just one more futile experiment. Drive your car at a speed of 60 miles an hour and try to stop when you get within 10 feet of a concrete covered bridge abutment. By the time your brain's message to your leg muscles gets your foot to the brake pedal your car will have smashed into the concrete wall and you will probably be dead and the car a total loss. These three scenarios are indisputable examples of principles.

Principles then, by the definition in the first paragraph are virtual absolutes. Gravity is indisputable--it works on this planet every day, sunshine or rain. It works the same for everyone, whether male or female, a 10 pound baby or a 200 pound adult. Money has no influence or effect on gravity; you cannot bargain with coin or paper currency and change the "law of gravity".

Life is affected by principals and principles, period. Charles R. Swindoll has written dozens or maybe hundreds of his small (68 pages) Bible study guides and his editor-writers, Bill Watkins and Bill Butterworth consistently used what I would classify a caveat in those books: "Knowledge apart from application falls short of God's desire for his children. Knowledge must result in change and growth." I believe these two statements are true regardless whether the subject is religious or secular.

What about the PRINCIPALS?

Every person who is "in charge" over matters, events or a company in which you have no control could be called a (or the) principal. If that person is not governed by PRINCIPLES that are fair, equitable or moral, you could well have problems (or "issues" as modern day parlance prefers over "problems"). It is that simple. How we deal with life or the circumstances that are our lot in life is what matters. It is that simple. In other words, Chuck Swindoll's editors wisely counseled biblical students: "Convert knowledge learned into change and growth."

There will always be principals and principles. We must come to some kind of terms with how we work with this fact of life. It is not a matter of rocket science to discover the principles mentioned above will be obvious in leaders in our government, whether it be politics or legalities in local or other levels of government. Believe it, principles are essential to the successful operation of any government.

With the above thoughts on principals and principles some applications are in order. In 1999, the popular TV host, Larry King, had CBS'S 60 MINUTES quips expert, Andy Rooney as a guest. All through that broadcast, neither "principal" or "principle" was mentioned as a word. However, throughout the comments Andy Rooney made in regard to two politicians in particular and others in general. (Please remember the DATE--1999! Readers need to understand my comments are not about today's politicians but the application is like the ubiquitous "politician "--their talents-virtues know no generational bounds.)

"Lowering Standards" - A PRINCIPLE

In the opinion of Andy Rooney, when a President chooses to refer to himself as BILL Clinton instead of William J. Clinton, he presents the idea or concept of a lesser or lower standard. We accept such lowering of standards with "common" people but when the President of the United States compromises principles of standards it is a fake acquaintance entitling "common citizens" to regard Bill Clinton (in this analogy) to be a "buddy" as opposed to the fact this he is the one who was holding the highest office in our land. Jimmy Carter did the same thing. Comparatively, I cannot imagine the average Brit being encouraged to refer to Queen Elizabeth as "Betty", can you?

"Buying Political Offices" - Andy Rooney feels that something has radically happened in our society when becoming elected is dependent on how much money you can raise to spend on being elected. This is literally (by principle) BUYING the office. The person seeking election should be qualified by what they are rather than whose they are.

"Principles of Principals" - When Bill Clinton allowed himself to become involved in a scandal with a young woman within the walls of the White House he was disdainfully disregarding the principles of morals, ethics and sanctity of the office of President. We do not expect this kind of conduct from the President and not only did he appear to be guilty he lied to millions on television when he denied he had such relationships. The same accusations can be applied to Republicans with former President Richard Nixon in the Watergate Scandal. Inexcusable is a fair word to use for either man. I think the conclusion Andy Rooney had about his opinion of former President Clinton ("...he was good at what he does but terrible at who he was") and finally Mr. Rooney said, "With all his faults I still liked the man." And don't we wish or hope people can regard us with the same concessions? No president has ever been perfect but neither should they relish in their imperfections.

"Knowledge apart from application falls short...knowledge must result in change and growth." --- Charles R,. Swindoll

THE JOHN ETY FARM BEGINS

John and Ethel Ety established their farmstead in 1917 on Fairfield Township Road 201 and raised their four children, Ruth, Annabelle, Robert and Paul a few miles northwest of Lancaster, Ohio. At that time the acreage of the farm was 87 acres with about six or seven cows. In 1945 the Ety Farm was twelve cows with Surge bucket milkers in their old stanchion barn. Change was the main constant in the years to come. The first change came four years later when their father died. Bob had graduated from high school three years before and Paul was starting his senior year; the older sisters had married and moved away from the farm. Bob and his family moved into the home place with Mother Ety after their father passed away and Paul, Jane and their son rented a place in town. What began as a modest farm dairy was slowly changing, and with the passing of their father, the two sons were to develop one of the most outstanding dairies in Fairfield County. These brothers were exceptionally hard workers and left no stone unturned in providing the finest feed, environment and milking conditions possible for their herd of registered Holstein cows. Perhaps the most amazing parts of the success of the Ety Dairy Farm was that here were two young men in their twenties whose complementary talents and teamwork made it all happen.

THE ETY BROTHERS DAIRY GROWS

It didn't take these young men long to figure out that they were either going to have to get in or get out of the dairy business. Improvements and methods from hand-milking a dozen or so cows to planning and developing different kinds of milking parlors made the Ety Farm a place where change became the norm. When something new came along they would decide which way or what system or plan they would adopt.

Early on both brothers attended a Surge Dairy School and they picked up ideas as to how to make significant improvements on their farm. A regular commuter driving by the farm was always treated to see something new or different. The very nature of the milk parlors, with its large windows was an invitation for everyone to "come see how we milk cows". With their growing herd the once 36,000 gallon underground manure tank would eventually be dwarfed by a 25 feet high, 82 feet diameter liquid manure tank that would hold nearly a million gallons. Managing manure was a top priority. Their two 20' x 60' silos were soon inadequate and more were built. Silos came along like "new tools" in a mechanic's shop. While visiting the farm once, Paul mentioned that Jane told him she wanted a house before they built another silo. Paul grinned and told me they put up at least two more silos before Jane got her house.

The complementarity of good management and good herdsmanship produced the desired results--good milk production. In short, Bob and Paul took care of their cows. Even in retirement, Paul said something that didn't really surprise me when he told me he still buys his eggs from a farmer instead of a supermarket. At his house they buy eggs for $2.00 a dozen when you can buy them at half that price; and the farmer in Paul explains, "...the lady we buy eggs from takes care of her chickens". That was good enough for him, besides Paul quickly added, the yolk in the farmer's eggs are orange-colored, not yellow! "They're good eggs!"

A HIGH POINT IN ETY DAIRY CAREER

When Bob & Paul Ety were setting records (with the help of their cows of course) they were in their middle thirties. Who can really tell what the real drive was behind these two young men? Was it simply making a real business from a very modest beginning of their father and his few cows? Perhaps this could have been a subtle impetus but probably the real reason or cause for their success was their work ethic. The only evidence of pride is a cautious grin on the faces of the two young men pictured below. Bragging is not a part of the Ety Dairy heritage. They just worked hard and you could say they proved the wisdom behind the acrostic of the word LUCK - Laboring Under Correct Knowledge. Yes, the harder they worked the luckier they got!

Their pinnacle of success was when they made headlines in farm news by the increase of 12,240 gallons (of milk) increase per year! The picture above shows what that many gallons of milk look like! That kind of success doesn't come from luck or talk. But years after the two Ety brothers achieved such notoriety life brought some tough times. Barely twenty years later Bob died. What now? What was once a two-man team was now nearly a solo. They did have hired  men most of the time.  Usually one full time and they had others they  could call on when the crops were ready to be brought in.  Bob and Carol's two boys helped with the farm because they lived there. By the time they quit milking, they had 300 cows, about 500 calves and heifers.  The local dairy bottling distributor used to come every other  day and get 8,000 to 9,000 gallons of milk.  Sometimes they would have  to pick it up every day. 

Plans were already in the works to "quit the dairy" before Bob became ill with cancer and later died. So, it was only a matter of time until the farm would "wrap it all up" with plans to sell the land to a business developer and retire like most people do in life. Remember, with a large herd there has to be a use or plan to "do something" with manure; and they used this natural fertilizer on their land, it was that simple.

Today the ETY DAIRY FARM is just a memory. Where once cows were cared for, fed and milked, a modern huge shopping center exists. Corn and milk are no longer the produce from those fields. Fairfield County Township Road 201 has been named ETY ROAD for sometime now and it is a thoroughfare off US Route 33 to gain access to condos, apartments, automotive dealerships and brand-name stores that are household names. If Paul misses anything it is the work with cows and the land but life goes on, and once again change rules. For years this farmer's day started when the alarm clock went off every morning at 3:45 and ended when Paul walked through the door of their home around 10:00 that night. In spite of such a work load they raised three children and the work ethics of Paul and the parental principles of his wife run through the veins and genes of the Ety children to this day.

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"With all the news about the earthquake in Haiti and groups wanting to help a very large group of people has done this for a very long time.

"The Amish communities all across the United States, including the large one in Holmes County (Ohio), have annual auctions to help the poor of Haiti.

"Participants donate most of the sale items, although some are sold on consignment. The receipts are used to further expand their work in this country..

"Members of the Amish sector have visited Haiti with truckloads of donations. They have done this for many years and do to this day.

"Locally, Haitian relief missions already operate a school of 500 students with a staff of 12, half of which is from Berlin, Ohio.

"These people continue to help with their humanitarian efforts in their own quiet ways at home and abroad.

"I have had the privilege of knowing some of these fine people and the work they do.".

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During the past weeks since January 12, 2010, when Haiti was hit by the worst earthquake in 200 years, millions of dollars have been raised, celebrities in every field or career have gone to Haiti, famous doctors have taken leave of absences to assist that ravaged area. Just this past week a popular female actress whose name you would recognize immediately, was photographed as she talked with one of the victims expressing her personal concern. One can only wonder, had it not been for the Letter to the Editor alluded to above, how many would have been aware the Amish have ministered to that country for years? They don't work to be noticed. Were it not for incidental appearances in films, for example, most would not be aware how they do a "barn raising". The 1985 TV movie, WITNESS, starring Harrison Ford is probably one of the best biographical sketches in years that told how the Amish live and work together.

Picture an Amish man reading The Budget (their newspaper) about all the hubbub, accolades and activities over the Haitians after the terrible earthquake, quietly smiling, knowing "they have been there all along". We just don't read about it - and the Amish wouldn't see it on the TV because they don't use electricity. THE WORDWRIGHT

Delores and Russell Miller are "old friends" of Bill Venrick as we are members of the American Amateur Press Association for a couple decades. A while back Delores wrote a short story of milk cans that caught my eye. Here is that story, and how her son Keith Miller, a 4th grade teacher got to tell his class about a milk can that used to be in his parents' dairy. THE WORDWRIGHT

CLASS, WHAT IS THIS?

Keith Miller (Delores & Russell's son) - 4th grade teacher, tells about a school project. in Evansville, Wisconsin. In social studies he had asked his students to bring an artifact to school (for show & tell). Keith said, "I asked each student to bring in an artifact from the past. This is what I brought in (see above photo)--a milk can. 98% didn't have a clue what it was.  They did ask good questions about it, which was most of the point of the lesson."

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Now Delores Miller tells a brief history about MILK as she remembers it.

Since the beginning of the dairy industry in Wisconsin about 1900, containers were needed to transport the milk to the cheese factory.  Separators were first used to divide the cream from the whey, and small cans were hoisted and transported by horse and buggy to the cheese factory.  The first  whole milk can was a twenty gallon can that took two people to lift up onto the buggy for the horse to haul to the factory.

Next came the ten gallon galvanized tin cans which weighed 15 pounds plus the 80 pounds of milk, making a mighty heavy load for one person to hoist up to the milk truck that came daily to the farms.  The milk truck drivers were admired for their strength of hefting all those cans.  Mike Polzin was our milk truck driver, we rode along to Sunrise School with him, a whole mess of us kids.  Ray Draeger and Duane Miller were other drivers.

The Zillmer family shipped their milk to the Quarterline Cheese Factory with Harold, Elda and Jane Brown as Cheese Makers.  Other factories in Dupont were Maple Valley, Green Valley, Spring Brook (by Elmer Piehls), and the South Dupont cheese factory which now in 2010 is still making good colby cheese and fresh cheese curds two days a week. So in Wisconsin alone there must have been a million milk cans left over from those early days before pipe lines and bulk milk trucks hauling 5000 gallons of milk.  Oh, how different from the 8 gallons in a milk can.

I never thought to ask for a milk can when I left the childhood Zillmer farm.  Russell inherited all his father's milk cans, and they have been divided amongst our 5 children and nieces and nephews.  Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Missouri and Arizona these milk cans are gracing living rooms, reminding them of the early heritage of dairy farming.  They are good receptacles for holding valuables.

Aunt Wilma Lembke and Uncle Clarence on one of their Wisconsin visits begged a Zillmer milk can.  They hauled it over the rivers, deserts and mountains to California.  Decorated with yellow painted daisy and sunflowers.  For 40 years it graced their living room.

Alas, Uncle Clarence died in 1979, Wilma downsized in 2004 to a Military Veteran's home in Napa Valley, California.  Needing to get rid of the Wisconsin Milk Can.  She packed it up, UPS delivered over the mountains, rivers and deserts   to the Miller house doorstep in Hortonville  where it sits in our living room, reminding me of the Zillmer farm of the 1940s.

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So, there in a nut shell is a short story about what "milk" and "milk cans" meant to Russell and Delores Miller in Wisconsin. Another story about "milk as a business in Lancaster, Ohio" is in the hopper so keep coming back to THE WORDWRIGHT and read about milk before it got into the plastic jugs or paper cartons.

THE WORDWRIGHT

"He will be remembered for his warm smile, incredible memory, riding his yellow bicycle, singing, lawn mowing, leaf raking, setting out garbage cans, his wonderful wit and running a variety of errands for dozens of east-end neighbors and businesses. He was a true friend to so many.

"Tom was born in Lancaster, Ohio and enjoyed living his entire life here. He was one of the first attendees at the Sheltered Workshop (now Fairfield Industries/Forest Rose) that his parents were instrumental in starting, an Eagle-Gazette newspaper carrier in his younger years and a devoted usher at St. Bernadette Church for over 30 years. He also enjoyed traveling to Athens for Ohio University basketball games.

"Tommy was given the opportunity to grow and learn in a nurturing neighborhood surrounded by a large network of friends who gave him purpose in life and a much-needed daily routine. He had a knack of stating the truth in a blunt, honest, heartfelt way. He was an official goodwill ambassador who understood the simple pleasures of life, small acts of kindness, and the importance of the lost art of conversation. He touched many lives in many ways, reminding you of tasks that needed completed, bills that needed paid, groceries that were on sale for the week."

More than his family will miss this man. The local east-end Kroger store has his bright yellow bicycle chained securely in a little niche at the front of the store, his helmet and some gear with the bike and a plaque mounted on the wall above his bike. A stone marker could not express loss any dearer or clearer.

It was told that his mother had moved into a retirement community so he would have a place to live after she died. Also words were passed around not to give Tommy anymore cigarettes which were thought to have caused lung cancer that darkened this bright ray of sunshine.

One of the Gospel writers expressed it this way, "You are the salt of the earth [and].you are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid..." Matthew 5:13-14 We could say, "Pass the salt please and give me a light so I can see..."

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THE WORDWRIGHT

RALPH C. STARKEY, Last Superintendent of Ohio's Fairfield School for Boys, died January 24, 2010.

September 26, 2007 I had the privilege to sit in the home of Ralph C. Starkey as he sat reminiscing about the years he spent at the Fairfield School for Boys in the hills and ravines six miles south of Lancaster, Ohio. If anyone ever talked to Ralph Starkey and did not catch his excitement about trying to get boys back on track, they were not paying attention. January 24, 2010, Ralph Starkey passed away and his passing presented an opportunity to write "one more chapter" about the most successful Boys Industrial School in the United States, bar none. The B.I.S. Started in 1856 under the name, Ohio Reform School (Reform School & Farm); 1884 was renamed the Boys Industrial School; 1964 it became Fairfield School for Boys. The school closed in 1979 with Mr. Starkey being the last superintendent. The various name changes were merely semantics in action involving nuances about the principles and purposes of the school as viewed by various administrations and societal input.

Ralph Starkey was born in Circleville, Ohio, in the same town he was living when I interviewed him in the early days of our preparation and research to write a history of the Boys Industrial School (later known as Fairfield School for Boys, and most recently known as Southern Correctional Institution).

The small town of Circleville, nestled in the fields of Pickaway County, has some claims to fame but Ralph C. Starkey's name might just glow a tad brighter than entertainer Ted Lewis who, while holding his clarinet, would ask, "Is Everybody Happy?" Strange as it may seem this could have easily been one of Starkey's queries to those delinquent boys of the State of Ohio when they were sent to The Hill in a genuine detainment from the streets of crime.

After leaving Circleville, Ralph C. Starkey became known as #74, Tackle, with the New York Giants -- unique with his abilities, he was recruited to come to Lancaster and tackle major problems at FSB. "Something was going on" at FSB in Lancaster and it needed fixed. Ralph did not come right from the locker room or football field because he had been working with the State of Ohio Youth Commission for several years and was in Zanesville when he was asked to come to Lancaster.

There were many icons who sat in the chair of superintendency of that state institution that began in the 19th century by Charles Gustave Reemelin and a few others who saw the need to make a place where delinquent or truant boys could be rehabilitated and sent back home with new goals in life. Ralph Starkey may not have really asked the boys, "Is Everybody Happy?" but many feel he came to that school to try to make every boy leave there with a better outlook on life. Happiness may have been a by-product after all.

Ralph Starkey told me about being involved with Rotary and other organizations, and knowing some very influential people and when it was announced that the school was being shut down the whole town was up in arms. They were ready to take this to the governor. Representative Don Maddux even got involved. Central Office (of the state's machinery) called Starkey into the office and informed him that this was a done deal and to back off. Only a short time later it was made public the future of FSB would become history and The Hill would no longer vibrate with youthful boys but become a prison for hardened criminals. (A long way from its founder's dreams or hopes.)

Supt. Starkey had twenty vocational programs going on as well as a full academic high school. No one had time to "lay around on their bunks" as prisoners do in the SCI - they were programmed for those boys. All the kids were involved in either a vocational program or an academic program. The BIS was turning out sixteen hundred and we put almost two thousand kids through the program a year which was half of what the other eight institutions in Ohio did in a year. Mohican Youth Center, Cuyahoga school for boys, and other related "schools".The BIS, and later, FSB, had an outstanding work ethic.

There were five unions on the campus of Fairfield School for Boys. Each major labor force was represented and the teachers had a union. Starkey did not have any problems with unions--he was always willing to listen to them. All the vocational trades people for carpentry, masonry and horticulture, etc., were unionized as well.

The livestock program had ceased when he got there. Superintendent Starkey knew that if he kept the kids sharp looking, gave them three good meals and a snack at night he had 75% of his problems covered. He was in his office every morning at 6:00. He knew that former superintendents were never in their office until 9:00 in the morning. He would eat with the staff or the kids instead of living in the official superintendent's mansion (which had not be used as such for some time). Former superintendents seemed reluctant to go out where the students were and he got to know the students as well as the staff. On one occasion Superintendent Starkey went to a dormitory one night around 2:00 a.m.. He wanted to get in touch with the staff and become acquainted - it was the first time they had seen a superintendent in the middle of the night.

Every Friday morning at 8:00 he had an appointment with all the new kids in FSB. There would be as high as 50-60 new boys come in every Friday. He told them what he would tolerate: "no hands on anyone, don't even think about putting your hands on anyone or starting a fight". He expected them to keep themselves absolutely neat and clean at all times and he said, "We will provide clean clothes for you to make sure this happens.". Then he told them, "If you want to go home then this is what you will have to do." He wanted them to know FSB was going to do everything they could to make it possible for them to go home as soon as they could, and said, "I don't want to see you again." He would then approach each and every boy asking him if they would make the same commitment to him. He even assured them that he would not allow any parole officer to interfere with any boy's schedule to go home as soon as he could. Starkey even had a recording made of these meetings and it was given to the staff so they would know what he had told the boys. Every staff member knew exactly what the Superintendent had told these boys.

As a professional who had worked with delinquent boys, Mr. Starkey knew that most of these kids had never been a winner. The power of positive thinking has always worked and these boys needed to feel good about themselves. The Fairfield School for Boys had a program with four levels. Starkey worked up a system of cards that were punched to keep track of the individual boys - the conduct, cooperation, or whatever and the boys turned in their punched cards regularly. The cards became a part of the permanent record. If the kids got to certain levels they got to wear a different shirt with colored borders signifying what level they were on. The boys were proud of those shirts and would holler across the yard telling Mr. Starkey about their new shirts. The boys had "TIGER TOUGH" buckles, in the background of that logo was the level color they had achieved. "How you boys doing?" Starkey would ask, and they replied, "Mr. Starkey, we're Tiger Tough."

He gave the boys something to work for. If the kids felt good about themselves it would help them behave with one another. In our interview Starkey told about the boys' involvement with the city, the police and the county. He had boys he sent to work at the police department. The cops would even take the boys out to lunch with them. When the Hall of Justice was built, Starkey took the boys into town and they moved all the furniture into the new Hall of Justice.

They used the Olympic swimming pool so they could find out what level of proficiency the boys could swim. They had several skill levels from "tadpoles" on up classifying their level of proficiency. They held special swimming training to prepare boys to become lifeguards. They would then offer these boys services to Miller Park Swimming Pool to be life guards at no charge. Miller Pool said they were better lifeguards than the ones they had to pay.

Former tackle #74 for the New York Giants has ambled off the field of service to his state and fellow citizens. Those who worked with Ralph C. Starkey admired him and he will be missed. More stories are in the works about this institution that was a model for the entire United States.

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Historical Sketches of the B.I.S.
by Bill & Jean Venrick
Lancaster, Ohio - Copyrighted 2009

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.

Trust no Future, however pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, act, in the living Present!
Heart within, and God overhead!

-- Longfellow.

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Our acts make or mar us,--we are the children of our own deeds.-- Victor Hugo.

Of all earthly music, that which reaches the farthest into heaven is the beating of a loving heart.-- Beecher.

If there is anything that keeps the mind open to angel visits, and repels the ministry of ill, it is human love.--Willis.

God sometimes washes the eyes of his children with tears in order that they may read aright His providence and His commandments.-- T. L.Cuyler.

The truest help we can render an afflicted man is not to take his burden from him, but to call out his best energy, that he may be able to bear the burden.-- Phillips Brooks.

Lamentation is the only musician that always, like a screech-owl, alights and sits on the roof of an angry man.-- Plutarch.

He is a fool who cannot be angry; but he is a wise man who will not.--Seneca.

Men in rage strike those that wish them best.-- Shakespeare.

Men often make up in wrath what they want in reason.-- W.R. Alger.

A man is known to his dog by the smell, to his tailor by the coat, to his friend by the smile; each of these know him, but how little or how much depends on the dignity of the intelligence. That which is truly and indeed characteristic of the man is known only to God.-- Ruskin

A man who is proud of small things shows that small things are great to him. -- Madame de Girardin

He who believes in nobody knows that he himself is not to be trusted.-- Auerbach.

Who escapes a duty avoids a gain.--Theodore Parker.

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Sometimes quotes are about all we can handle...
THE WORDWRIGHT

When I was twelve years old my Grandfather Harry E. Keadle told me stories about a long stick having been made from a school house where one of our presidents taught school. He told me that story many times and as I grew older he promised that one day that stick would be mine. Really it wasn't just a stick, it was a pointer like school teachers of years gone by used to point out places on a map or in drills of the letters and ciphers (as reading and arithmetic were "taught to the tune of the hickory stick" as the old song goes.).

My Grandfather Keadle's father, John R. Keadle, taught school and to my obvious dismay I never either knew or had wondered if my great grandfather had once used this pointer. But what I do know, my Great Grandfather John R. Keadle did teach school in Missouri when his son, my Grandfather Harry E. Keadle was born in Trenton, Missouri, in 1880. This old pointer is 41-1/8" long and the most narrow diameter is 5/8" at its point and 1-1/8" diameter at the end held by the teacher. It is obvious the pointer had been carved or shaped using a draw knife with the "hickory stick" held in a shaving horse. What is most impressive to me is the hand-cut (carved with a penknife no doubt) 1/4" high lettering on this antique school master's pointer:: "MADE FROM OLD SCHOOL HOUSE IN HARRISON TP, MUKINGUM CO., O. WHERE PRESIDENT JAMES A. GARFIELD TOT SCHOOL IN 1848." (With such a hand-carving job one has to allow the carver some license in not spelling out "taught" but carving "TOT" instead and he also left the "S" out of "Muskingum".)

Today, I now wonder if my Great Grandfather Keadle might have been the one who had used a draw knife to carve that pointer before his son was born in Missouri. Perhaps the words carved in the pointer were simply authentication of the pointer, where the hickory lumber came from and became part of his teaching aids. All this is conjecture obviously, but it sure makes a good story that I can now say I have shared about my interesting ancestors. Oh yes, I almost forgot. I also have an Autograph album he had passed around to his students (scholars as they were called) in Hooksburg, Ohio (Morgan County, just south of Muskingum County). On October 21, 1883, Lillie Fisher wrote:

To my teacher --
Tis sweet to be remembered
By those we trust are true,
Please think of me sometime
And I'll often think of you.

Apparently my great grandfather only taught in Missouri for a while and after their son was born he returned to Ohio where he continued teaching. There are only faded notes here and there so how long he taught cannot be determined. It is my understanding he was a student at Ohio University, Athens, Ohio, about the time the school became co-educational.

Do you get the idea that I enjoy old stuff?

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After I wrote "This Little Light of Mine" a good friend of mine, James Saddler in Huntsville, Alabama, sent me another lard oil lamp to add to my collection. The oil lamp Jim sent me was made by J. Anton & Son of Monongahela, PA., and has a patent date of 1904. MANY THANKS, JIM!
THE WORDWRIGHT

In those days I thought image was important, and I liked the image presented by several colleagues who smoked pipes. Despite the desire and the money I wasted, I never got the hang of smoking. Couple that with my distaste for cigarette smoke and my gagging at the whiff of cigar smoke, I played the fool for a while.

All that is another way of saying that I don't like smoking. I often asked my dad not to smoke, but I'm not sure his emphysema killed him, though it surely contributed to it. He never considered suing a tobacco company, just as he didn't join the group lawsuit against the asbestos companies. During the Big War, he worked in a shipyard where asbestos was used a lot. His argument was that the asbestos producers didn't set out to harm him.

And all that leads me to the announcement that a Florida jury has awarded three hundred million dollars to a lady who sued a tobacco company. "Cindy admitted her fault to the jury," her attorney, Robert W. Kelley, said in a statement. "But Philip Morris refused to accept any responsibility for her emphysema, even though she was an addicted customer for 25 years."

A jillion dollars for continuing to do something voluntarily for decades? I've stood in tobacco stores and convenience stores and watched folks purchase packs of smoke. Never have I seen a gun pointed at their heads. And year after year after year they do the same thing, often in the face of advice from their doctors to stop smoking. Even after their lung X-rays show the cloud gathering in their body.

From 1938 till 1974, subsidies were as integral to tobacco farming as rich soil and a damp climate. By 1977 tobacco production was growing without subsidies to farmers, mainly for export. Given the illogic of the woman in Florida getting three hundred million, one wonders if the day will come when a U.S. Company is sued by someone in another country for getting lung cancer.

The topic here is rather smoky; when does the individual accept personal responsibility for risking his or her own life? For instance, if a man takes a handful of aspirin each day because he heard it helps prevent heart attacks, should he be able to sue Bayer Aspirin when the pills eat a hole in his stomach? Or, if a person chooses to drink heavily, is it acceptable to file a lawsuit against the whiskey manufacturer when he becomes an alcoholic? Or, will the kid in San Francisco who uses marijuana excessively from free clinics be able to sue the city for his drug addiction? Just one more: why should McDonald's be liable for someone spilling hot coffee in a lap after they leave the store?

I wonder how many ashtrays were on the table in that Florida jury room.

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THANKS, T.J. I grew up smelling smoke on dad's clothes and never thought anything about it - and today no one seems to think much about it either. My father lived to nearly 93 and smoked a pipe, cigars, even chewed tobacco. Finally he went to cigarettes until one day his wife said, as she pulled out the last cigarette from the pack, "This is the last one for me." That's all it took, dad quit too. That was probably close to twenty years before he died - of old age. Personally I am glad I never started the habit of smoking. I wonder if today's tobacco might be more potent than it used to be or were smokers back then more potent than what they were smoking?
THE WORDWRIGHT

The little miner's lamp above has been in my possession since I was about 13 or 14. On a rare visit, my Great Uncle John White, was telling the usual tall tales at our house when visiting my mother. My mother's family made quite an impression on my life which probably contributes to the reason I have had this little lard oil lamp for over sixty years.

In fact, if my memory serves me correctly, this incident was probably the first among assorted promises about which I had my doubts. My mother's Uncle John White was the kind of relative you weren't really sure what to believe or how much to count on. I can't recall ever having seen him except this one brief time as a young teenager. As he wove his yarn about this miner's lard oil lamp hanging on the wall of his cabin in Pine, Colorado, he saw my excitement and said he would send it to me when he got back home. I suppose the incidental comments by my parents tainted my expectations a bit and was I surprised to receive that promised miner's lamp a few weeks later. It came through the mail in a little cloth bag, with a drawstring tightly tied and a card-label attached. I doubt if anything comes through the mail like that anymore.

The "lard oil lamp" as he called it, was the predecessor to carbide lights (or lamps). The fuel for this lamp was melted lard and some entwined cord was fed down through the spout into that reservoir of lard. Once the entwined cord had become soaked with lard (oil) it acted as a wick and when lit would produce a large flame. I can still remember the rancid smell of that old lamp wick. Not only did the lamp have an unpleasant odor the smoke was another issue. It was easy to figure out why a different light was invented and carbide lights quickly became the better way to see in a coal mine.

I remember playing with carbide lamps. Once I recall play became rather serious when I didn't get the bottom screwed on tight enough. When I rubbed the flint wheel on the lamp face with the palm of my hand the whole thing became a big flame for just a second until I decided I was done messing with it and threw it to the ground. (Let's face it, that was over half a century ago and the details escape my memory) The mechanism in those carbide lamps was a little valve opening to allow water to drip into the lower part of the lamp where chunks of carbide were placed. This process produced acetylene gas which was forced out of a little orifice in the center of polished concave reflective surface. Igniting the lamp was simple, a little knurled wheel rubbed against flint making a spark to ignite the gas. It was a boy-thing toy at the time and I recall something about the "popping" sound of the flame being regulated by how long you kept your palm across the front of the lamp before igniting the gas.

I suppose I had that lard oil lamp forty years before I became a curious adult wondering where it was made. The identification on the lamp was brief: "What Cheer Tool Company, What Cheer, Iowa " There was a logo on the spout of this lamp with two letters: GB. I wrote to the town of What Cheer, Iowas and hoped for the best. Sure enough, some weeks later I received a letter from the mayor of What Cheer, Iowa, and in that letter he gave me a brief history of the company that made my little lamp. One fact I uncovered in my Internet search in Wikipedia Free Encyclopedia was the explanation of how the town got its name, What Cheer. It was not local Indian name as I had supposed but an American Indian name from New Jersey!

Only recently when I came across this old lamp in a box of antiques was my curiosity aroused even more. It was easy to find something on the Internet and Dave Johnson, a collector in Minnesota wrote, "It is a driver's lamp - a lamp used by mule drivers underground, as opposed to the smaller face lamp - a lamp used at the working face of the mine." Early lamps like mine and later carbide lamps were attached to the miner's cap. Technology changed of course and batteries became the energy (or fuel) to provide light simpler and perhaps a little safer as well. Mr. Johnson also wrote, saying, "Colorado had a large number of hard rock mines and many coal mines as well."

The What Cheer Tool Co. was a manufacturer of mining and other tools in What Cheer, Iowa. The lamps with their name were actually made by Grier Bros. Mfg. Co. of Ottumwa, Iowa, which is why the GB appears on the spout.  "I have 5 different What Cheer oil wick cap lamps in my collection of more than 1200 different mine lamps," collector Dave Johnson wrote.

Dave Johnson's website of antique mining artifacts and pictures may be of interest to you if you would like to see dozens of such miner's lamps mentioned above:
http://miningartifacts.homestead.com/
OR -- http://miningartifactsii.homestead.com/MiscLamps.html

Now what from the maze of my memories can I dig out of some dusty box to write about next?

THE WORDWRIGHT --- Thanks for visiting!

I have written in other places joshing about those who say "print is outdated, and books are disappearing" and I still say "balderdash". In case you haven't noticed, computers generate more paper than anything that has come down the pike during the last fifty years. We thought mimeographs were great (those of us who even remember what a mimeograph is, or was) but the computer and its printer, loaded with paper, can generate sufficient paper to qualify its owner to be called a publisher within months of possessing these electronic machines.

DON'T EVER STOP LEARNING - Does the "do it your selfer" or professional mechanic ever get enough tools? If there's a shooter in the family, does he/she just have one gun? Language is a tool in a shop. And reading is that unique tool for language. Unfortunately those who are semantic slight of hand artists in our world think they have all the answers and because of them our society is so concerned about leaving this group or that group out we have even let "politics" get into language - politically correctness. The moral for this thought is don't let the politically collect group drain all the blood (or meaning) out of all the important words. Whether these PC people want to admit it or not, differences in people do exist and instead of (attempting to) deny those differences we should celebrate them.*

All learning comes easy or hard depending on what you already know, or enabled yourself to know. Experience may be the best teacher but doubtless one could not find a more dangerous or harder teacher. The mind (brain) we humans have is one of the most copied or emulated objects man has on his drafting or research table. You may not know a scripture from a scarcement but you better know a spark can start a fire. You better know troubles, unattended to, can burn you out or make your mind sick.

Learning is basic to life. It is also user friendly. What you learn today may save your life tomorrow, or no less than make you understand what someone is trying to sell or tell you--in person or on the TV. An open heart or mind is the vessel of choice if you plan to be around long on this ball of clay swirling around the Sun. Otherwise, plan on letting someone else do all the thinking, working and care(ing) for you the rest of your life.

*Attribution is due Michael Golden, whose essay "Don't Rewrite the Bible" which appeared in the Fourth Edition of "Exploring Language". At the time of its publication (1986), Mr. Golden was an elementary school teacher in Brooklyn, New York. A brief commentary, "It is absurd." succinctly expresses Michael Golden's opinion on some politically correct words. Just in case this seed thought arouses your interest, "Exploring Language" Edited by Gary Goshgarian was published by Little, Brown and Company, Boston. ISBN 0-316-32157-5

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Though I have no idea who penned the following words, I am sure he had me in mind in many of them. I hope you find your way through the jungle of jingles this year. Perhaps we can all produce a happier tune for those around us.
Keeping Christmas

There is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is keeping Christmas.

Are you willing to forget what you have done for others, and to remember what other people have done for you; to ignore what the world owes you, and to think of what you owe the world; to put your rights in the background and your duties in the middle distance and your chances to do a little more than your duty in the foreground; to see that your fellow men are just as real as you are, and try to look behind their faces to their hearts, hungry for joy; to own that probably the only good reason for your existence is not what you are to get out of life but what you are going to give; to close your book of complaints against the management of the universe and look around you for a place where you can sow a few seeds of happiness - are you willing to do these things even for a day?

Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to stoop down and consider the needs and the desires of little children;
to remember the weakness and loneliness of people who are growing old; to stop asking how much your friends love you and ask yourself whether you love them enough; to bear in mind the things that other people have to bear in their hearts; to try to understand what those who live in the same home with you really want, without waiting for them to tell you; to trim your lamp so that it will give more light and less smoke, and to carry it in front so that your shadow will fall behind you; to make a grave for your ugly thoughts and a garden for your good thoughts, with the gate open - are you willing to do these things even for a day?

Then you can keep Christmas.

Are you willing to believe that love is the strongest thing in the world - stronger than hate, stronger than evil, stronger than death - and that the blessed life which began in Bethlehem nineteen hundred years ago is the image and brightness of the Eternal Love?

Then you can keep Christmas.

And if you keep it for a day, why not always?

But you can never keep it alone.

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(T.J. Ray, a retired professor of English at the University of Mississippi)

After the trimmings of the tree have been put back into their boxes awaiting the passing of another year and after the last exchange of Christmas gifts at the stores where business has slackened a bit perhaps, it is time to bring out this classic assortment of words once again. These are, of course, human attempts to explain the Life of Christ but they are words that surface as regularly as Christmas itself. The unknown author has succinctly written reminders of some of the facts students of the Bible have studied for centuries. I hope you will enjoy and appreciate this classic of the Christmas season. -- THE WORDWRIGHT

More than two thousand years ago, there was a man, born contrary to the usual laws of life. This man lived in poverty and was reared in obscurity. He did not travel extensively. Only once did He cross the boundary of the country in which he lived--that was during His exile in childhood, as we are told.

He possessed neither wealth nor influence. His relatives were inconspicuous and had neither training nor formal education. In infancy He startled a king; in childhood He puzzled doctors of the law; in manhood He ruled the course of nature, walked upon the waves as if pavements, and hushed the sea to sleep.

He healed the multitudes without medicine and made no charge for the service.

He never wrote a book, and yet all the libraries of the world could not hold the books that have been written about Him.

He never wrote a song, and yet He has furnished the theme for more songs than all the songwriters combined.

He never founded a college, but all the schools put together cannot boast of having as many students.

He never marshaled an army, nor drafted a soldier, nor fired a gun; and yet no leader ever had more volunteers who have, under His orders, made more rebels stack arms and surrender without a shot fired.

He never practiced psychiatry, and yet He has healed more broken hearts than all the doctors far and near.

Once each week, the wheels of commerce cease their turning and multitudes wend their way to worship in assemblies to pay homage and respect to Him. The names of the past proud statesmen of Greece and Rome have come and gone. The names of past scientists, philosophers and theologians have come and gone, but the name of this man abounds more and more.

Though time has spread two thousand years between the people of this generation and the scene of His crucifixion, He yet still lives. Herod could not destroy Him, and the grave could not hold Him.

He stands forth upon the highest pinnacle of heavenly glory, proclaimed of God, acknowledged by angels, adored by saints, and feared by devils, and is the living, personal Christ, the Savior, Son of God--the Incomparable Christ.

--Author Unknown

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Bill and Jean Venrick wish you a Blessed Merry Christmas and the Best Wishes for a Happy New Year. Get ready to use the numbers 2010 in your checks and other notes.

At our house were two books that stand out in my mind: a book about the life and death of Will Rogers and Moby Dick. I only looked through the whale story book but spent a lot of time leafing through and reading about Will Rogers. Here are some bits of wisdom that have been attributed to Will. In case you are unaware of Will Rogers, he was probably the greatest political sage this country has ever known. Enjoy the following:

1. Never slap a man who's chewing tobacco.
2. Never kick a cow chip on a hot day.
3. There are 2 theories to arguing with a woman...neither works.
4. Never miss a good chance to shut up.
5. Always drink upstream from the herd.
6. If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.
7. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it and put it back in your pocket.
8. There are three kinds of men: The ones that learn by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence and find out for themselves.
9. Good judgment comes from experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.
10. If you're riding' ahead of the herd, take a look back every now and then to make sure it's still there.
11. Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier'n puttin' it back.
12. After eating an entire bull, a mountain lion felt so good he started roaring. He kept it up until a hunter came along and shot him. The moral: When you're full of bull, keep your mouth shut.

### There you go --- hope you got a smile or two out of this. Please forgive me for not editing Number 8, but then again, there might be others that could be offensive that I simply overlooked. So, keep the "forgiveness" spirit open as needed. LIFE is really not a great mystery to most of us. I did say it was Will Rogers that was supposed to have written these, not Bill Venrick, so that may be a little help in getting me "off the hook".