Relaxing in Southeast Ohio
(an Introduction)
great “road trip” movies – The Wizard of Oz, Rain Man, The Motorcycle Diaries, Thelma and Louise, Easy Rider, Bonnie & Clyde, The Grapes of Wrath, Transamerica – are really about just one thing: the transformation of the main characters as they come to understand the world they live in, and their relationship to it.
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ertainly, along the way to their intended destination, the ever-changing scenery and the colorful characters they encounter help make the film engaging. And that keeps us interested. But in the process of navigating the obstacles along their travels, the main characters undergo a change. And, deep down, that is what stirs our emotions.
Eventually, for good or for bad, they come face-to-face with the world and who they really are. And, from accepting that ugly and beautiful truth, they grow. And if they don't? Then their story ends in tragedy. With all the best “road trip” films, the allure of the story draws us in and invites us to join the characters on our own parallel journey – within. As their vicarious travel companions, we, also, can grow and change as we discover something profound about the world around us, about humanity, and about ourselves. Of course, the stories of history are but “road trips across time.” They give us an opportunity to explore the lives of others who – with what they had available – struggled against challenges in a culture that played by different rules. The stories of history allow us to step safely into fascinating worlds that are completely different – and yet exactly the same – as our own. Not surprisingly, we have an important advantage over those who lived in the past: We can see where their paths led and consider the consequences of their choices. Uncovering the paths blazed by those who lived before us – and knowing where those paths may take us – offers us two options: We can follow the same paths, or avoid them.
Hopefully, an understanding of history will provide us with the wisdom not to stumble down the wrong paths in the first place. Of course, it is best to start these explorations while young. And so, for our story, who better to usher us safely into – and back out of – those worlds of wonder than a gentle and loving grandparent? And when we return from such expeditions across time... ? Well, when we return, we may find that we possess a bit more clarity and just a little more insight into who we are. When we return, we may be surprised to find ourselves still grasping a few threads of inspiration. When we return, we may discover that our spirit is infected with wanderlust, a sudden aching to take our lives along a different path. And, we may find that, now, we possess not only the confidence to consider an alternate path but – just perhaps – the courage to step across its threshold. Yes. As a result of our pilgrimages into the past, we may very well find the boldness to change, and to transform ourselves... Our future... And, maybe, the future of our world.
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
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he ten-year-old looks forward to these occasional Saturdays. So does her grandfather.
while Louis Armstrong sings, “It’s a Wonderful World.” Once their conversation warms up, music will get in the way. He remembers to pull a $10 bill from his shirt pocket, “Put that in a safe place.”
“Thank you” she smiles excitedly, Once, sometimes twice, each knowing exactly what it’s for. month, from Southeast Ohio, “What flavor will he drives up you get today? toward Grandparents make Blackberry?” Columbus and the world... picks her up. “Nope. a little softer, Apple-Cinnamon. Then, he spoils a little kinder, I’ve been thinking her with ice a little warmer. about it all week.” cream cones, – Anonymous “Yeah, that sounds museums, and good. But, really, day-trips. Today, she seems tense. Too tense for a ten-year-old. So he takes her for one of their adventures. Outside, it's storming. But, safe and comfortable inside the car, they watch the landscape glide by
wouldn’t broccoli-marshmallow be better?” She laughs. An easy humor flows between them. They enjoy time together.
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Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
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n their drive south and east, down State Route 33, it is just below Lancaster that she notices the sudden change in landscape. “Look! The hills are here!” she exclaims. “So this is where it starts not being flat anymore.”
She laughs. From previous adventures, she has already noticed that cities in flat landscapes are usually arranged on an easy-to-navigate grid with straight, predictable streets and lots of sharp turns. The streets and roads in the Appalachian foothills, she’s noticed, follow the contour of the land, which makes them more interesting, although when they occasionally get lost on their outings, it's harder for people to give them simple directions.
She has never caught the transition before. “Yes, in northern Ohio, the last glacier scraped the earth flat, like a bulldozer. But it made it only to somewhere along here before stopping and melting itself backward to form the Great Lakes,” he tells her.
“I think the streets in hilly places are probably harder to build,” she suggests.
“When was that?” she asks. “A long time ago.”
“I’ve never thought really about it,” he admits.
“Oh, yeah. Probably 50 years or more, right? Ancient times,” she teases. “Did you get to see it?” “Absolutely. In the summer, we used to go shave ice off the glacier to make snowcones.”
“So,” her logic tells her, “that probably means they might cost more money since buying bulldozer time is probably pretty expensive.”
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Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“Maybe you could be an urban planner,” he compliments her. “Maybe,” she thinks. Later, she will learn that the glacier affected more than street patterns. For now, he's hoping the storm lets up before their first stop. It does.
“It’s one of the abutments they built back in the 1850s to support a trestle so the trains could cross this valley.” “Trains went across here?” “Yes, to the other side,” he points across the valley. “Between this abutment and one on the far side, they built those tall, stone piers to hold up the tracks.” “Where were they going?”
Just outside Cutler, Ohio, near an area called Dunbar, they park and walk a ways through a wooded area.
“Well, I think this stretch of service ran across the bottom of the state, between Marietta and Cincinnati, through Athens.”
Then, she looks up. “Grandpa! What is it?”
She looks up at the neatly-stacked blocks. “Where did they get the rocks?”
He rarely tells her ahead of time where they are going or what they may see. Jutting out from the hillside, a stone wall wraps over an arched space at its center.
“In the creek bed,” he points below. “It's sandstone. The stone masons cut them out, shaped them, and put them into place, perfectly, without any mortar.” -4-
Lifting Trains across the Sky
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
Looking out toward one of the 80-foot, free-standing piers, she asks, “But how did they get them all the way up there to the top?” “That, I don’t know,” he admits. Often, her endless supply of questions overruns his limited inventory of answers. “This afternoon, let’s go to the History Center down in Athens,” he offers. “Maybe they’ll know.” She ponders. “People sure like to build things.”
He laughs, “Says the lady who loves Legos.” “Hey! You can never have enough Legos,” she quips, calling up her best scowl. They gaze up in silence. Nearby, a bird chirps. A cicada whines. She presses her hand flat against the cool, mossy sandstone. “They’ve been here all this time.” “All this time,” he nods.
The Dunbar Piers
Each of us is carving a stone, erecting a column, or cutting a piece of stained glass in the construction of something much bigger than ourselves. – Adrienne Clarkson
(near Cutler, Ohio) One of the 80-foot high, limestone-block piers built in 1857 to support the Marietta and Cincinnati Railroad trestle across the valley. -6-
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
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ack in the car, they drive and talk and wonder about an age when professional masons, armed only with muscle and skill, built limestone supports so the railroads could open-up Southeast Ohio to the larger world. They wonder if, during the decades the train was in service, the passengers admiring their view of the valley ever gave a thought to those masons who did their part so that people could move through the sky, more than 100-feet above the creek bed below. Her tension, he notices, is beginning to thaw. These occasional outings allow her to step outside of herself, into the past, to escape and forget, if only for a bit, her overwhelming home situation. Not only is her family splintering apart but her parents had been too caught-up in their own violent
conflict to notice the signs of bullying. She wasn’t the only victim. The parents of others reported it and the school seems to have put a stop to it – but not before it undermined her sense of self and shook her confidence. While growing up, he had discovered that “wondering” was a strategy he could use to sidestep reality; a secret power he could invoke to smooth over the rough spots in his own life. And, now, it is his gift to her. “All those people who cut the stones,” she reflects, “we don’t even know their names.” “No. They were just doing their jobs.” From experience, he knows that while ice cream is a pleasant distraction, slipping into the reverie of wonder can illuminate
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Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
the darkness, give her the mental space – and the opportunity – to explore ideas, to define herself, to work out how the world works, and to understand her place in it. “Do you think people will remember our names?” “Maybe. For a while. But more likely, they’ll remember the things we leave behind and the things we did with our lives.” “Oh,” she pauses. “So what kind of things should we do?” “I don’t know. What would you like for others to remember?” “Well...” she thinks, “probably good things... maybe things that make life happier. Things that make people laugh. Or maybe just at least smile.” “Yes,” he agrees. “Good things.”
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ver the past year, during their other Saturday adventures, big themes began to emerge.
One was ‘Transportation.’ And that may be why this morning she has been thinking about the high cost of road construction in the foothills. Months ago, during a trip to Hannibal, at the eastern edge of the state, they watched the locks operating, lifting and lowering boats and barges to make the Ohio river more navigable. Standing in the wind on that beautiful sunny day, he had explained that long ago, when early settlers were opening up the Ohio frontier, thousands of explorers traveled up and down this very same river. People like Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton, and Johnny Appleseed. “Johnny Appleseed? He was a real person?!” she exclaimed. -9-
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“Yes. Just like us.”
trees, pollinated them, harvested the apples, stored them, and dried them – and maybe turned some of them into preserves, sauces, butters, vinegar, or cider – Chapman’s apples might help them bridge over starvation during the barren winter months.
She laughed. “Actually, his real name was John Chapman and he lashed together some canoes filled with bags of apple seeds and paddled along this river to find perfect spots to set up tree nurseries.”
“So he helped them stay alive.” she said. “Sort of like a hero.”
“How come?” she wanted to know. “Well, partly because he was an entrepreneur.” “So that means he did it to make money.” she clarified.
“Johnny Appleseed” John Chapman He Lived for Others 1774 - 1845
“Yes. Back then, the early settlers were scarce on food so Chapman sold them seeds and showed them how to grow them.” She listened as he went on to explain that if the settlers planted the seeds, tended them, grew the
“Yes. Back when the world had real heroes,” he comments. “He also loved animals and was a vegetarian.”
“You know what? It makes sense Johnny Appleseed would use the river for travel and that people would put their towns near the edge,” she said. “That's where everything was happening.” He told her that many of today’s transportation routes were first
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shaped by the land, as the water – motivated by gravity and steered by ‘the path of least resistance’ – found its way from the skies back to the oceans by way of streams and rivers.
“And now, our bike and walking paths follow alongside the river.” “Well, it’s easy to travel next to the river because it’s pretty flat,” she figured. “Exactly,” he said. “The water finds the easiest path.”
“When they got thirsty,” she speculated, “the animals probably just came to the river to get a drink.”
“And then everybody else just follows,” she laughed.
“Yes, and that created animal paths. Then, the hunters would follow their tracks and leave behind their own foot trails. Then horse trails,” he added.
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Wondering through Southeast Ohio
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ater that day, on the drive back from the locks, she asked him to tell her a story. So he old her several stories about the pioneer, Simon Kenton. She heard about Kenton's amazing skills in tracking, scouting, surveying, spying, and surviving. She was surprised that, for several years, Kenton – thinking he had murdered a man – changed his name to avoid capture. The stories made it clear that Kenton was largely responsible for opening up much of southern Ohio and Kentucky during the second half of the late 1700s. She was enthralled by the stories about how Kenton saved Daniel Boone's life during a Shawnee Indian attack; how he had once been captured, tortured, and then adopted by the Shawnee Indians before eventually escaping. She was impressed that he could reload his flintlock with powder
and ball and fire accurately while running at the same time. She was surprised that he also served in the Revolutionary War She was saddened to hear that in Kentucky, Kenton lost thousands of acres to lawsuits and that, later, his land claims in Missouri were swallowed up by the New Madrid earthquakes of 1811-1812 which also triggered Indian wars in Ohio. And she was distressed to hear that Simon Kenton was sued over land disputes and put into jail. Then, she was amused to learn that the townspeople liked him so much they elected him the County Jailer and moved his family into some apartments at the jailhouse. In the end, she was fascinated that this big, big-hearted, and morally-principled hero – with no officially-sanctioned superpowers – could help so many people and accomplish so much with his life.
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In Boonesboro, Kentucky (April, 1777), during a surprise attack by over 100 Shawnee warriors, Simon Kenton rescues his unconscious friend, Daniel Boone.
Simon Kenton 1755 – 1836
Skillful Pioneer. Brave Soldier. Honest Man.
In Nelsonville, a boat approaches a bridge on what is now Canal Street, near the Legion Hall.
An Excursion Packet Boat on the Hocking Canal near Rockbridge in Hocking County.
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
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hat day, on their drive back from the the Ohio river, and after making an hour disappear with Simon Kenton stories, they decided to stop and explore Nelsonville. They were curious about why some of the houses were built with their backs facing the main street. Later, someone explained it was because the houses were built to face the canal, back when it was the main form of transportation. So that was when they both discovered that life follows – and faces – the corridors of travel. “Somebody built the canals?” she wanted to know. “Yes. It was a big project in the 1840s. Streams and rivers don’t always go where you
want them to. So in the mid-1800s, they built a whole system of canals which made it easier for people to travel and to ship things like coal and salt and pork and clay products from Nelsonville up to Columbus.” “What did they do before the canals if they didn’t have a river nearby?” she had wondered. “It was pretty hard to get stuff up to the bigger markets to sell. “And most manufactured goods had to be brought in by horse or ox-cart,” he explained. “So the big and heavy items, like furniture, were made locally. Scarce items that were carted in, like sugar, were expensive luxuries.”
Promotional Material - 15 -
“Sugar was a luxury?” she worried.
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“Mules and horses walked on the towpath alongside the banks, pulling boats filled with people or mail or manufactured goods.” “So,” she says, “the canal let them bring in more stuff to buy.”
“So the trains put the canals out of business?” she asked.
“Yes. Always. More stuff to buy. “But the canal brought all kinds of things to this area. Including change,” he said. “I guess when out-of-town people come in, they bring some different ideas,” she thought. “That's good.” “Water is the most energyefficient transportation,” he said, “but it’s also pretty leisurely.” “That’s just your way of saying, ‘it’s too slow.’ Right?” she said. “Yes. I guess so. I was just being nice to the water.” “That's good. Always be nice,” she advised. He went on to explain that, eventually, the river beds and
canals would attract tracks for steam-powered railroads which could accelerate not only the importation of people and things but the exportation of timber, ores, and other natural wealth.
“Yes. Eventually. And later, when cars became popular in the 1930s, parts of the canal were filled in and paved over to create Route 33. “So we've been driving on top of the canal?” she was surprised. “In some places, yes. Now, how about if we ride the train?” “Today? Now?” she asked. “Sure. Why not?” he said. But, of course, he had planned it earlier and contrived their day's activities to match the railroad's strict departure schedule for her very first train ride. His, too. Both were excited.
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In Lancaster, warehouses along the canal. The canals opened up commerce in Southeast Ohio. Horse and mule-drawn boats exported crops, coal, clay products and other resources from the region. They returned with finished goods from the urban areas.
Three channels of transportation: In Athens, the Marietta-Cincinnati Railroad once ran alongside the old Hocking riverbed.
section of the Hocking River to prevent flooding to the Ohio University campus.
The Hocking River is a tributary of the Ohio River. Its headwaters are just a few miles northwest of Lancaster.
This train passes under the old South Bridge (now the upper Richland Avenue bridge.)
In the late 1960s / early 1970s, the Army Corps of Engineers re-channelized this
Today, the bridge crosses over Oxbow Creek, which runs along the original riverbed from where the Hocking River was re-routed.
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
S
o, they bought tickets and boarded and laughed as a nervous butterfly on an erratic flight path chased the train out of the station. The tracks, laid in 1869, carried them alongside the old canal bed and their ride on the HockingValley Scenic Railroad offered some unexpected views that go unseen by those traveling in cars. It was a scenic tour filled with beauty – an enjoyable trip to nowhere. Along the way, woven into their adventure, he told her how it was the railroads, along with the telegraph, that had eventually synched-up America into its four standardized time zones. “When was that?” “Ancient times. The 1880s, Just after the Civil War.” “What did they do before that?”
“Each town had its own time. It might be 2:40 pm in Lancaster and 3:02 in Nelsonville,” he explained. “Before the trains, when people walked or rode horses,” he told her, “it didn’t make much difference if each town had a slightly different time. “The towns just set their clocks when the sun was overhead at noon. And then people set their watches by the town clock.” “So,” she asked, “all the towns needed to have the same time so that nobody would miss the train?” “Yes. But also to avoid collisions since different trains used the same tracks,” he explained. “The telegraph, which was pretty new then, connected the towns so they could synchronize their clocks and also to let people know when the train had left the previous station.” - 19 -
Linking the world together. In 1979, a train passes through Stewart, Ohio. A legion of telephone poles march alongside the tracks. Across their wires, they transmit urgent, important, interesting, useful, timely, trivial, funny, angry, boring, confusing, pointless, and loving messages to and from neighbors... and the rest of the world.
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
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n about an hour, the train dropped them off at Robbins Crossing, a “living” pioneer village museum on the campus of Hocking College. Many of its authentic log-structures are well over a century old, and were moved from nearby sites.
heated a shaft of wrought iron until it glowed.
Then, guiding his tongs to an anvil, he created value by hammering the softened metal into a more functional shape – one that offered greater utility – before plunging it into a bucket Creating Value. of water and releasing a cloud of steam.
Wandering through the one-room school house, general store, potter's shop, miner's house, and other log-buildings, they looked on as college students and community volunteers re-enacted chores, craft-making, and other bits of everyday life from the 19th Century.
“That was pretty awesome!” she complimented him. “Thanks. Maybe you'll want to have this job some day,” he gave her a friendly wink. “Maybe,” she considers.
Using burning coals and a bellows, a brawny blacksmith - 21 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
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ater, back on the highway, she processed what they had seen.
“Oh,” she thought, with a slight nod.
“It was probably really hard when you had to make everything yourself,” she realized. “We get to just buy things.”
And so, for a while, as they drove along in comfort – traveling in just 20-minutes the distance a pioneer on horseback might cross in a full day – they thought hard about how easy modern life is.
“Yes. But maybe they didn't really know how hard it was,” he said. To make life easy, “They were just accept its difficulty. living.” – Joshua Suya Pelicano “We have it easy,” she says. “Yes,” he nodded. “Sometimes, maybe too easy.” “How come you say that?” “Well, sometimes, when life is too easy, we don’t really appreciate it.” “And,” he continued, “maybe when everything is done for us, we miss out on feeling the pride of having made something, or done something, for ourselves.”
That brought them back to thinking about the canals and the trains, which revived their conversation.
They talked about how, little by little, life really had become easier for the people living in this remote area as newer and faster means of transportation and channels of communication allowed for more commerce – and bigger conversations – with the outside world.
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Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
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ow, here in their present, on this rainy morning, driving farther into the Appalachian foothills of Southeast Ohio, they begin to talk about how the glaciated soils in northern Ohio are different from the unglaciated soils in the southeastern part of the state. They ponder how different soils – and different climates – support different plants, shrubs, trees and crops. “And probably different plants would attract different insects and the insects would attract different birds and different animals,” she reasons. “Yes,” he agrees. “The soil and the climate determine the habitat. And the habitat determines which plants and animals live here.” Now, on this drizzly drive, they wonder about how the soils and even the weather patterns – altered by the hills – can also
shape lives, the character of the people and, in turn, the local culture. They think about how the foods we eat, the recreational activities we choose, and even the jobs we have – things that help define who we are – are often determined by the regional landscape, the climate, and the people who lived here before us. “People like to hunt around here,” he says as they pass several black and orange 'NO HUNTING' signs. “Yeah? You think?” she laughs. Definitely less tense, he thinks. “Sure. During deer season, hunters come from all around the state,” he says. “Some probably just need to get away from the city and walk around in nature for a while. Anyway, it brings in tourism money which helps the region.” “Those cabins we passed probably make some money,” she says.
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Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“And there are plenty of other outdoor things to do here besides hunting. Like biking or hiking and rock-climbing, or kayaking or canoeing. The landscape here tends to challenge the body and build muscles.” “And there's fishing,” she suggests. “That's probably easier.” “And birds,” she adds. “I'll bet my friend who likes birdwatching would like it here,”
“Well, I think it’s probably... The beauty. The peacefulness. The animals. The trees. The natural landscape. The unhurried lifestyle. The people. The sense of belonging. And the community.” “Wow. That's a lot of pretty good reasons,” she agrees.
“Plus...” looking outside the “Probably,” window he agrees. “Stop by sometime. Let's catch up.” she notices, “there's sure not too much extra “Those are some of the reasons concrete around here.” people like living here.” “But why do you like living here?” she wants to know.
“No,” he looks around, “I guess there's not.”
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Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
W
inding their way around the curves, their attention turns to the steeper hillsides which, he tells her, contribute to flash floods in the spring. “These hills probably make farming pretty hard, too,” she thinks. “How could you ever get a tractor up there?”
He talks about how, throughout the mountainous Appalachian region, where travel was always more difficult and expensive, people who grew corn discovered that it could command a much higher price – and could be far more profitable – if they first converted it into hogs or whiskey so that it could be sold ‘on the hoof or in the bottle.’ “Oh, I get it. ‘On the hoof.’” she laughs. “They feed the corn to the hogs and then they make the hogs walk to the store, right?”
“Even if you could,” he says, “erosion would be a problem. Once you cut down the trees, “That’s right. instead trickling Bruce & Gay Dalzell, 1979 flood. Or, they could down into the build stills to turn ground, the heavy fermented corn mash into alcohol rains just wash downhill and and sell it in bottles,” he explains. carry away the rich topsoil.” - 27 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“Instead of carrying out bushels of corn, a horse could carry out ten times that value in moonshine.” “What’s moonshine?” she wants to know.
They made it an amendment to the Constitution.” “They made it illegal?” “Yes. For over 10 years, starting around 1920.”
“Illegal whiskey.”
“So probably everybody had to hide their stills,” she suggests.
“How come it’s called moonshine?”
“Yes. I read where one guy hid his still inside a cave that you could get to only through a secret entrance inside a hog shed. But he got caught anyway.”
“I’m not sure,” he says. “Maybe because people made it at night, when it was dark, so they wouldn’t get caught during Prohibition.” “So what’s Prohibition?”
“A hog shed?!” she laughs. “I wonder what the hogs thought about that?”
“It's a period Promoting Prohibition. when they prohibited producing, or selling, or even transporting, whiskey “Maybe they liked it since they anywhere in the United States. probably got to eat the left-over - 28 -
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corn mash after the alcohol was distilled. They were accomplices.” “So you mean the same corn could be used to make moonshine and also feed the hogs? That was pretty smart.” “Good observation,” he replies. “They needed to get as much value from the corn as possible.” “So maybe the sheriff just went around looking for fat hogs,” she speculates.
It's a survival process. Especially when you're operating outside of society's laws.” “But it seems like the laws are sorta like a game. Sometimes it's legal and sometimes it's not,” she observes.
Forbidden Agriculture. 1931, marijuana had become illegal in 29 states. Later, 'Meigs County Gold' became a legendary 'brand.'
“Yes, and later on,” he explains, “the same challenges of making a living outside-the-law would be faced by all the local marijuana growers.”
“People are pretty clever!” she figures. “They like to solve problems.”
“I guess you better be careful when you live,” she figures, “just so you don't get in too much trouble.”
“Solving problems is part of life.
“Good advice,” he laughs.
He laughs.
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Wondering through Southeast Ohio
D
riving along a stretch of new highway, she’s puzzled.
“I thought the last time we went this way there was a town here.” “It’s still there, they just built a new highway to go around it, to speed up our trip,” he explains.
Does it homogenize their already bland highway experience? Does it deprive outsiders of experiencing the local culture of these tiny towns? Does it make everyone's life a tiny bit less rich? Less interesting?
“But I liked seeing that town.” They wonder about all the small towns and villages bypassed by bypasses.
“Grandpa, I’m hungry.”
“It’s sort of like somebody just hit the ‘delete’ key and made them disappear,” she says.
“OK. Me, too. Reach back and open up that little ice chest and grab us some sandwiches.”
They pondered whether rerouting the highway also reroutes money away from the smaller communities and stifles their connection to the outside world.
“OK. First, here’s some napkins,” she offers, “just in case you’re super sloppy, as usual.”
And for travelers, does bypassing these little ‘speed-bumps’ – and eliminating the need to come off cruise-control – make the pacing of their trip more monotonous?
“It was just that one time,” he says. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you.” “Hmmm. Well, ‘Never’ is a pretty long time,” she admits. “Maybe the longest,” he guesses. - 30 -
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“Well, you’re the one who brought this big pile of napkins,” she laughs.
They eat their sandwiches without disaster while she peers through the rain-spattered window.
“Oh, look!” she exclaims, politely changing the subject. “You brought strawberries!”
Outside, it’s drizzling and the passing landscape offers plenty of invitations into the past.
“Just one for now and the rest for later,” he suggests.
She sees abandoned coal tipples and piles of coal tailings, some with weeds growing up through them.
“For on the trip back?” “Sure,” he says. “It’s nice to have something to look forward to on the way back.” So they drive and eat simple sandwiches constructed mostly from homemade bread and a few items from the farmers market.
Later, she asks about a lifeless creek that's fluorescent orange.
For Lunch: Legal Local Produce
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He tells her rainwater washing through the pile of high-sulfur coal has created sulfuric-acid.
We abuse the land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect. – Aldo Leopold
Coal-Inflicted Injuries to the Earth: Acid Streams.
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
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ater, after a sandwich and a strawberry each, and no food mishaps, the rain stops so he pulls a safe ways onto a broad shoulder of the road and parks near a wooded area. While he grabs a couple of apples from the ice chest for his jacket pocket, she jumps out to scout around the wet weeds.
“This...” holding it at arm’s length for careful appraisal, “this piece of coal... used to be... alive.” “Really??!” She’s incredulous. “Alive?” “It probably started out as plants, 300-million years ago – back when the skies had too much carbondioxide and too little oxygen for most lifeforms.”
He launches into a simple chemistry Sunlight buried for lesson, telling her 300-million-years. how, using the sunlight, the plants stole carbon-dioxide from the skies, “Here, Grandpa,” she hands him kept the carbon and released a lump of coal and keeps one the oxygen back into the air. for herself. She finds what she wants – leftovers from the fossil fuel industry.
“Thank you,” he says. Then, after a few moments, “Guess what!” “What?”
“Swapping out CO2 with oxygen slowly made the atmosphere more livable for mammals, and then humans,” he says. - 33 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
She follows some of it. “So the plants kept all the carbon?”
transformed into coal, these two lumps of 'buried sunlight' didn’t see the daylight, or the sky, or the moon, for more than 15-million-generations.”
“Yes. And also the energy from the sunlight,” he explains. “Back then, this area was covered with swamps and when the plants and some animals died, they just piled up and eventually turned the swamps into bogs filled with something like peat moss.
“Wow.” For a while, both are silent. Wondering about this length of time neither can grasp makes them feel both insignificant and excited.
“They got covered-up faster than they could decay and, eventually, over millions of years, and with lots of pressure,” he says, “the decaying material fossilized and turned into coal.”
They enjoy the moment. “So something that lived maybe back when the dinosaurs were alive can still turn out to be important millions of years later,” she ponders.
“Did this piece of coal live when the dinosaurs were alive?”
“Yes. It can change the world.”
“Maybe. In fact parts of it could be dinosaurs.”
“This coal just had to wait until somebody came and dug it up?”
“You mean there might be pieces of dinosaurs in here?” searching intently.
“That’s right. People wanted to burn it and release the energy it had trapped from the sun.”
“Maybe. But more likely it’s from plants. Either way, as they were
“Sunlight that shined on the dinosaurs.” She reminds him.
- 34 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
“Maybe,” he reminds her.
instead of manual labor, to remove the shallower seams of coal that were closer to the surface.
He explains that for more than a century, to help fuel the Industrial Revolution, coal was extracted from deep, underground mines by men with pickaxes.
“This is called strip mining or, sometimes, surface mining,” he tells her.
Then as the thick, deep, underground coal seams were depleted, the coal industry moved away from deep-mining and replaced men with machines.
“Eventually, to get at the coal, they started using more explosives for 'mountaintop removal.' ”
It became more cost-effective to cut down the trees, sell the lumber, and use large coal shovels,
“Yes. It caused lots of problems. Then the coal left the region on barges and trucks and trains.”
“Really? They just blew-up the tops of mountains?
The Surface Landing at the Sunday Creek Mine Shaft - 1930 - 35 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“Oh, yeah,” she remembers. “Transportation.”
She reflects, “We probably waste way too much energy.”
She listens carefully as he goes on to explain that the exported coal was used to power steamboats and trains; to heat homes; to smelt iron into steel; to fuel factories; to build industries; and to boil water into steam to spin turbines to generate electricity to light lights.
“We're all guilty,” he agrees. Standing away from the road, they are silent – wondering about how this remarkable substance became so essential to the progress and the growth of the nation – when, from behind them... a slight movement. They turn...
The “Big Muskie” Strip-Mining, Earth-Moving Machine. 22-stories tall – the largest single-bucket dragline ever created. Built 1967-69, it operated south and east of Zanesville until 1991. - 36 -
Chauncey (Athens County) deep miners risked (and sometimes gave) their lives to satisfy America's insatiable appetite for coal. Millfield Mine #6. Abandoned. (Athens County)
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
J
ust a few steps away, at the edge of the woods, a fawn is browsing.
Now, all three stand motionless. Watching. Waiting. It is the closest she’s ever been to any wild animal of this size. As two brown eyes meet two blue eyes, two species... connect. There, at the edge of the forest, for most of a minute... time stands still. But then... a Harley-Davidson roars around the curve and breaks the magic. They turn back but the deer is gone. “Wow. That was completely and totally amazing!” Her eyes and mouth are open wide. “Amazing,” he agrees.
Although it was just a simple event with four primary players, it was made possible by countless other, anonymous partners. He pulls the apples from his jacket pocket: one for her, one for him. She’s speechless – still immersed in amazement.
S
o they browse on their apples and he slips into the silence to ponder the universe and how many millions of events had to align in a ‘perfect storm’ for this encounter with the fawn to have occurred. With an apple in one hand, coal in the other, he first wonders what specific circumstances in each of their individual lives brought him,
- 38 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
his granddaughter, the fawn, and the motorcyclist to this place at the edge of this forest, on this day, at this particular moment.
He wonders about the legislators who allocated grants to fund the road, and about long-time residents who were forced to relocate after their property was purchased by the state’s power of eminent domain.
He wonders back to the hardships of the early settlers who displaced tribal cultures to open-up the Ohio frontier to colonists from the He wonders about the teams East Coast. of surveyors, engineers, He wonders Every day is a surprise. contractors, about his There are confirmations loggers, and ancestors from of an interconnectivity and construction long ago who, synchronicity which inspire, workers who for whatever titillate and confirm cleared and reasons, chose the inherent comedy graded the to move to this of the universe. ground and part of Ohio; – Billy Zane made the road and about their a reality; about descendants, the single worker on a bulldozer, who chose to stay. just doing his job, on a day long He wonders about the overworked ago, who leveled this inviting workers who formed unions that shoulder where they parked; and fought long and hard to create about the maintenance crews who a 40-hour workweek framed continue to keep the roadway safe. by weekends so that families And he wonders that he knows could spend time together not a single one of their names. on leisurely adventures. - 39 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
He wonders about the companies and workers who designed and built his car and the other teams of thousands who built the Harley; and about the sales people at the dealerships where each was purchased with loans from the banks. He wonders about the abandoned mining operation which prompted him to stop here for their conversation. He wonders about bigger, more cosmic issues, like the earth’s tilted axis which created the seasons and a temperate climate at this latitude so that deer, and the plants they eat, can thrive at this latitude.
the rain could stop just in time for them to pull off the road. He wonders about how the new-growth forest on this abandoned strip-mined land provides shelter and food for the wildlife. And he wonders about the unbroken lineage of countless generations of deer which, somehow, managed to survive starvation and annual hunting seasons so that, one day, this particular fawn might come to browse just a few feet from them. He likes to wonder about the near impossibility of events. It’s a practiced-habit he calls upon to enrich his life during slower moments in the present.
He wonders about how the heat of the sun lifted moisture into the sky to create this morning’s rain. He wonders about how the spin of the earth helped create the winds and weather patterns which hurried the clouds along so that
He finds it fascinating that, back through the ages, any small stumble by any single player might have caused a tiny mismatch in timing to launch a ripple of alternate consequences
- 40 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
which would certainly have erased for this fawn its only opportunity to connect through the blue eyes of his granddaughter. And yet, all these essential events did come together to create the moment they live in – a moment which they now return to as they pick back up their conversation.
in 300-million-years, it will have turned into a piece of coal.” “You think maybe I just changed the future?” “Just you? Don’t forget who brought the apples.” “Oh, yes. Thanks. You helped.” she smiles. “And we should thank whoever planted the apple tree,” he says. “And whoever picked the apple,” she plays along.
S
he throws the apple core far into the woods, away from the road. “For the animals,” she explains.“That was good.” “Maybe the seeds will grow,” he says. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll come back some day and my tree will be here. Just like Johnny Appleseed,” she grins. “Maybe,” he agrees. “And maybe
“And whoever drove it to the grocery store. And whoever put it in the produce department...” “Yeah, yeah,” she short-circuits him. “A great big ‘thank you’ to all the millions of people who helped get the apple to us.” “Whose names we don’t even know,” he reminds her. “But probably at least one of them was named... Steven,” she guesses.
- 41 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
H
er excitement over the fawn has settled now so he goes back to explaining that lumps of coal just like the ones they hold in their hands, shaped not only the character of the region, but the culture of America.
left behind pockets of poverty, devastation, and misery.
The vast reserves of coal had lured the coal mining companies to this area where they created jobs and built towns to house the workers. But like so many things, the history of these “black diamonds” they hold in their hands also has a dark side. Looking around, they can still see some of the damage this extraction industry did to the surrounding landscape, more than a century before. Along the way to becoming ‘King Coal,’ this organic mineral created great wealth but also
Coal mining tore apart families. And communities. Pitted one neighbor against another. And, eventually – by releasing back into the air the prehistoric carbon it had locked safely away for hundreds of millions of years – the burning of coal contributed to the increasing levels of carbon-dioxide in the atmosphere which became a growing threat to life across the planet. “So,” he explains, “it continues to fuel anger, tension, and conflict throughout the world. “For more than a century, it was the source of lots of violence,” he explains. “Blood was spilled. People died trying to obtain it.” “They died? How?” “Mostly mining accidents: collapses, explosions, mine train
- 42 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
wrecks, poison gas, heavy equipment accidents,” he says.
“Sometime,” he offers, “we’ll go see the coal mining town of New Straitsville where, back in 1884, striking miners set fire to an underground mine.”
“There were so many ways for deep miners to die fast. But thousands more died slowly, suffocating from ‘Black Lung Disease,’ caused by breathing coal dust for too many years.”
“They did it on purpose?” “Yes. They were sabotaging the mine,” he says.
“Couldn’t they make it safer?” she asks.
“It belonged to the mining company which also owned the whole town where the miners lived.
“Safety costs money. And that money would come out of the company’s profits.” he explains.
“New Straitsville was a 'company town,' ” he explains.
“But couldn’t the workers do something?”
“How did they put it out?” she asks.
“They tried. They formed unions and demanded safer working conditions and better wages. “Sometimes, they went on strike, refusing to work. But the owners of the mine usually just replaced them with “scabs,” non-union men who were desperate for jobs. “Many times, the strikes became violent,” he says.
“They didn’t.” He describes how the underground fire still rages on today. Unstoppable. Fed by seemingly endless seams of coal. “What?” she is astonished. “You mean they set the Earth on fire and they can’t put it out?!” “The mine had to be shut down.”
- 43 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“So they lost their jobs?”
suddenly had no income. And they had to leave the company's town.”
“That’s my guess,” he answers. “There were lots of other strikes calling for better wages and safer working conditions. But the companies had their own security force and sometimes the miners were beaten or shot.”
For several somber moments, they are silent. She reflects on how maybe her own problems are not of this magnitude.
After a dark moment she realizes, “They’re everywhere, aren’t they.”
She feels empathy.
“Who?
“Finish what?” he asks.
“Bullies.”
She looks up to meet his eyes, “Their lives.”
“Yes. Sometimes it seems that way, doesn't it,” he nods. “Unfortunately,” he continues, “just by doing their jobs to satisfy America’s addiction to energy, many thousands of men in the coal industry died violent deaths.” “When they died, what happened to their families?” She’s sensitive to families breaking up. “When they died, they often left behind orphans and widows who
“They never even got to finish.”
In her hands, now dirtied with wet soot, she examines this small remnant from the age of the dinosaurs. There is a whole world of wonder – and stories – in a simple lump of coal. He senses her conflict: She’s hoping to keep her small piece as a souvenir of what she’s just learned and her new connection with the miners and the dinosaurs.
- 44 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
And, truthfully, he, too, would like to keep his.
Occasionally, the sun finds its way through cracks in the clouds.
Even so, after a moment, he hands his piece over to her.
For now, the rain has stopped.
Then, with some reluctance, she stoops down to return them both to the weeds where she found them.
A small patch of fog casts its spell.
It is one of the simple rules of their Saturday outings.
“STOP!” she cries. “Grandpa, Stop. Stop!!”
And then...
He brakes.
T
hey drive along a ridge top on a winding two-lane road in Athens County.
John Lennon sings, ‘Imagine.'
“What?!! What is it? What’s the matter?!” “Pull over! We have to stop!” “Look!!!” she points.
- 45 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
He pulls over. They get out.
Words would be intrusive. Redundant. Irreverent.
And from the roadside, they look. Across the field, standing alone, waiting for them, is a solitary, oak tree.
This is not the time for reminding her that this hardwood is a natural outcome of latitude, climate, and soil.
They are not the first brought to a full stop by this tree. Nor will they be the last. It calls to many.
This is not the time to draw from his never-ending supply of fascinating facts from history.
Its very presence demands attention.
This is not the time to downgrade this ethereal experience to a mundane science lesson.
Its absolute strength commands respect.
Instead... It is a time to step back and let her slip comfortably – and completely – into the present moment and simply... Be.
Briefly, a shaft of sunlight works its way through the clouds to touch its crown. A light breeze ripples across its leaves. In front of it, a meadowlark wings its way low, across the field. The moment is magical. Spellbinding.
In a single instant, during her glimpse through the car window, this oak called to her. And she responded. And now, it shares generously with her its stark beauty. Its strength. Its power. Its dignity.
- 46 -
For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. – Herman Hesse
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
During this profound moment of spiritual healing, the force of its majesty sweeps across the field... To envelop her heart. To restore her confidence. To fortify her strength. To build her resolve. To make her whole.
Countless times, to help get through the turbulent decades ahead, she will find herself summoning, falling back on – and borrowing from – its endless reserves of strength. Even far ahead, on the very last day of her life, she will call upon this tree for courage.
At this juncture in time, one single, fragile life, standing at the roadside, seeks renewal from another, standing alone, across a field.
And, once again, as her loyal and lifelong companion, it will be there for her, in her heart...
And between them, a bridge is built.
To give her strength.
Both are temporary passengers on a vulnerable planet moving through the void along the outer edges of the galaxy.
To offer her comfort. To bring her peace.
And yet... from this fleeting moment forward, this tree will live in her heart, to serve as her own personal – and secret – guardian...
One last time.
Forever.
- 48 -
What are the natural features which make a township handsome?
A river, with its waterfalls and meadows, a lake, a hill,a cliff or individual rocks, a forest, and ancient trees standing singly. Such things are beautiful; they have a high use which dollars and cents never represent. – Henry David Thoreau
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
T
hey make their way back to the four-lane, continue southeast on Route 33, exit at The Plains, turn right onto Mound Street, and park. Then, as they climb the two-thousand-year-old, Adena Indian mound...
“It's probably a burial mound. But we don't know for sure. “It's never been excavated, so no one knows what stories it holds.” At the top, both are a little winded from the steep climb. There’s a breeze.
She asks, “But what's it for?”
Adena mound in a hayfield. Constructed 2000 years ago.
- 50 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
The clouds are breaking up. A buzzard rides the thermals. The mound lends them its 40-foot height for a better view of the ground below. There are houses all around. Too close. A disappointment. Through someone's tall, backyard grass, she spots a black rat snake headed for a small rabbit nearby. “NO!!” she shouts, and throws a random stick. Not quite far enough. But still, it's enough to startle the rabbit. It hops out of immediate danger. High on the mound, from their vantage point, only the sky is free from the signs of civilization. They wonder what the view would have been back in 1963. 1916. 1776. And especially back in 500 BCE – when the culture we call the Adenas went about their lives in this area.
N
ow, back in their safe, comfortable car with climate control, music of their choice, a pint of strawberries in the ice chest, and plenty of paper napkins, they continue southeast through The Plains toward Athens on State Route 682. Along the way, they wonder about daily life for those who lived back when the mound was built: Cutting down trees. Building shelter. Staying warm. Hunting food. Planting crops. Making pottery. Carrying water. Keeping clean. Making clothes. Protecting themselves. Staying alive. Curiously, as they drive past fast-food franchises, convenience stores and supermarkets, they feel a little overwhelmed; a little sad; and maybe just a little ashamed. - 51 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
T
he Hocking River runs along their left. She points up the hillside on their right. “Is that where we’re going?” “No, that’s the old state asylum. We’ll go there some other time to look at the buildings and explore the hiking trails and cemeteries.”
them north, across the river, toward downtown Athens. As they pass the football stadium, the log cabin and the round, Convocation Center on the Ohio University campus, he tells her... “This whole area used to flood back before they moved the river.”
Athens Lunatic Asylum operated 1874 -1993. Now called “The Ridges.”
“You promise?”
“They moved the river?!”
He promises. “Maybe we’ll even stay into the evening and look through their big telescope at the planets and stars and the moon.”
“Yes. Back around 1970.”
“The moon? Maybe we’ll get to see where moonbeams come from,” she giggles. Just ahead, the round-about spins
“Really? You're not kidding? They moved the river?” “They can move rivers.” “Well,” she ponders, “so much for letting water find the best path.” “Good point,” he laughs. - 52 -
In 1979, on a misty morning in Athens, the Convocation Center floats on a blanket of fog.
The 1968 Hocking River Flood. Ohio University. Athens. In the next few years, the river would be re-routed.
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
U
ptown, they park, then wander under the College Gate to admire the college green and its historic focal point, Cutler Hall. “It's one of the oldest academic buildings in the United States,” he tells her. She turns to take in the other buildings around the green. “You know what?” she states assuredly, “This place looks just exactly like a college should.” Silas Bingham House – Athens. Built in the early 1800s. Relocated from South College Street to Ohio University property on Richland Avenue across from Peden Stadium and the Convocation Center. John Newton Templeton – born into slavery in 1805 – was freed in Athens by his owner in 1813 and may have lived in this cabin when he was a student at Ohio University. Templeton was the first black college graduate in the Midwest (and America's fourth.)
He nods. “It's the classic architecture. The old buildings. “Maybe one day, if you decide college is something you want to do, you can come here to school.” “Maybe,” she considers. “It will be even a lot older then.” “That seems a long way from now, but time can move pretty quickly.” He glances at the clock tower. “We better get moving.”
- 54 -
Cutler Hall – Built 1816-1819. Fire from a lightning strike delayed completion. Currently an administrative building housing the offices of the university president and the provost, it has also served as a library, dormitory, laboratory, and museum. The cupola clock was a gift of the class of 1914.
Manasseh Cutler was one of the founders of Ohio University in 1804.
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
S
o they walk back to Court Street and head north past the courthouse and toward the armory. Looking down at the Athens bricks that make up the street, she realizes, “Look. Just like in Nelsonville! They have their name on the bricks!”
“They’ve had lots of fires here in downtown Athens,” he tells her.
“Yes. These blocks were made at a factory behind the old armory there at the end of the street and placed here, by hand, long ago.” “How long ago.” she asks. “Before the Wright brothers flew the very first airplane.” “Oh, yeah. Ancient times. Back when the stars were younger,” she laughs. “Did those guys give you a ride in their plane?”
They smell smoke and look up to see the remains of burned-out shops and upstairs apartments, an ugly reminder of a recent uptown fire. Mostly, only the brick walls remain.
“What’s going to happen to the buildings? Will they tear them down?” “No. They'll build them back. That’s what you do after fires.” “And floods, too?” remembering flood-level markings on some brick buildings in the towns they’ve visited. “Floods, too. Life throws down all kinds of unexpected setbacks and disappointments along the way.”
“Only once. We landed on top of the glacier,” he smiles.
They gaze at what remains of a blackened store-front. Tacked to the front is a handwritten sign: ‘Reopening Soon.’
“Yeah, right,” she groans.
“Soon...” he nods and wonders... - 56 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
“That may be a bit optimistic.”
“Sort of like a library. So people can find stuff,” she figures.
She's pensive. “People just keep on going,” she realizes. “That’s good.”
“Plus,” he adds, nodding toward a bronze plaque, “It’s an historic building, listed on the National Register of Historical Places.”
“Yes,” he smiles.
“Look,” she points. “What’s this?”
Then, she nods...
T
“It’s the cornerstone they placed with the date they built the building.” hey turn west, up West State Street just as the clock tower chimes.
“1916. Oh, yeah. More ancient times,” she laughs. “So you remember, of course.”
“That must be it,” she points to the massive brick History Center next to the clock. She examines the signage. “Yep. That's it OK. It looks important,” she says. “It is. It holds the memory of our region – a storehouse of facts and artifacts and stories. It contains thousands and thousands of pictures and documents and works of art. All carefully preserved and cataloged.”
He nods. “As I recall, it was just after the glacier melted.” “Oh? No more snowcones, huh?” “True, that was a big disappointment,” he admits. Overhead, they notice the sun is trying to come out. The clouds continue to break apart. Even so, it starts to sprinkle.
- 57 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“I like it when it rains when the sun is out,” she comments. “But can we go inside?” “Yes. That’s why we came. Let’s go see their museum.” He takes her hand. Then...
with a quick glance at the clouds, the clock, and the sun, to affix their present moment in time... They step across the threshold... to learn from the past.
The First Christian Church Build in 1916. Downtown Athens. A century later, in 2016, it became home to The Southeast Ohio History Center. - 58 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
I
nside... they are immediately captivated by the beauty of the building.
“It feels quiet in here,” she whispers. “And serious.” “Yes. Architecture can do that to you. It inspires a kind of reverence, doesn’t it.” “Look. Stained glass. Like a church,” she nods. “Yes,” he agrees. “Actually, this building was a church. For exactly a century. Before the History Center moved in. “What’s this?” she asks, pointing to an over-sized document in a bronze frame, near the entrance. “It’s a letter. It's to us.” “How did they know we were coming?” “Well, it’s written to anyone who happens to visit. It’s a letter to the future.”
“Well, it’s addressed to both of us,” he says. “Maybe you should read it. ” So she does. It takes her a few minutes and she asks for help with some of the words. But when she finishes, she says, “That was a really nice thing for them to do for us. How do we say thank you?” “We can't,” he replies. “All we can do is pay it forward.” Already, the History Center has begun its magic. Just the idea of reading a letter addressed to her from someone in the past has drawn her into a state of wonder and enchantment which stays with her during their short visit to the museum.
Time will explain. – Jane Austen
“So what does it say?” - 59 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
A
few steps away, they are captivated by the Center’s signature piece – a beautifully-crafted, custom-made, six-foot hourglass making visible the flow of time.
“Look!” she exclaims, pointing to grains of brick falling steadily through the narrow glass neck. “Here we are!” “Yes. In the present. Henry David Thoreau said it stands between two eternities.”
“This is sort of what it’s all about, right?” she asks.
“The past and the future?” she asks.
“What’s that?”
“Yes.”
“Time.” “Yes,” he reflects. “Time. It’s a concept that's endlessly fascinating.”
Prisoners of The Present
“It’s taller than I am,” she laughs. “How come the sand is red?” “It’s made from ground-up bricks from all around Southeast Ohio. Here's a list. Athens, Trimble, Nelsonville, Middleport. Just look at all of these places.”
She gives it a moment of thought, “But we’re always in the present. It’s kinda like we’re trapped here.”
“This is where we live our lives, in the present moment,” he offers, “and it’s the only place we can create the past.” “Well, since we're trapped here, it's probably the only place we can create the future, too,” she adds. “Exactly. You're smart!” - 65 -
The Time-Worn Bricks of Southeast Ohio A Gentle, Gravity-Powered Reminder that
Our Time Is Running Out.
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
“Thank you, Grandpa.”
“So you mean right here in this building we could maybe find out stuff about our great-great-great grandparents?”
“You must get your extreme brilliance from me,” he teases, “just like your eyes.”
“Yes. At least some of them. Parts of our family have lived in Southeast Ohio for a long time, so they should have records about them.”
“Maybe. But who did you get it from?” she asks. “Our smartness? My parents, and grandparents, I guess.” “And where did they get it from?” she presses. “Before that? I don’t know who my great-grandparents were.”
“That would be good. I’d like to know all their names,” she smiles. “And the things they did with their life.”
“Really?” “Only one. There were eight of them. But maybe someday when we have more time we can come back and find out something about who the others were since they were your relatives, too.”
In every conceivable manner, family is the link to our past, bridge to our future."
“How could we do that?” “The staff in their genealogy library can show us how to trace back through their records to put together our family tree.”
– Alex Haley
- 67 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
T
he museum is between major exhibitions but has put on display many items from its permanent collection.
When she notices him, “Look, Grandpa. It’s sewed together from lots of little pieces of cloth.”
So that she can explore and discover what interests her, alone, they separate and, for a long while, explore the building and the exhibits by themselves. Museums have impressive capabilities for distorting time.
“Yes. They didn’t waste much, did they. Things we might throw away, like scraps of worn-out clothing and bits of left-over fabric, they just pieced together into something beautiful.” “And warm, hopefully,” she adds. “Good point. Today, we look at them as art. But they were really meant to be useful.”
Wonder takes us deep inside, to a place outside of time. So, later, passing by the hourglass in the lobby, he's surprised to see that – working relentlessly – gravity has already downloaded a sizeable chunk of the future.
“But pretty, too” she comments. “This one is way too nice to put in my bedroom.”
The brick particles have steadily found their way down onto the ever-growing pile of the past.
“Each piece of fabric has its part to play,” he points to a section of the patchwork. “And each piece makes itself essential to the overall design.”
He wanders around and, eventually, finds her standing in front of a display of hanging quilts. Mesmerized.
She thinks about that for a moment, sensing a deeper meaning. “How long to you think it took to make them?” she asks. - 68 -
A Wedding Quilt - 1888 Blankets wrap you in warmth, quilts wrap you in love. – Anonymous
Quilt (noun). A coverlet for a bed made with a soft filling between two layers of fabric. All the layers are stitched together in patterns to prevent the filling from shifting.
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
“Months. Maybe years,” he says.
“It says this is a marriage quilt. Often,” he continues, “they were made for a special event. Like this marriage, or the birth of a baby.
“Really? It takes that long?” “It doesn’t have to. But these were all made by hand and it’s something they could do together as a family,” he explains.
“Lots of quilts documented something important in the family history.
“The grandmother might start it and then her daughter would add to it. And then, years later, the granddaughter might add something new.
She goes silent – maybe thinking about her own troubled family. So, to give her some space, he wanders over to look closely at the stitching of another quilt.
“And, of course, many of the scraps of fabric held some special meaning for them.” “You mean like maybe they used a piece of an old dress they liked?” “Exactly,” he replies. “Maybe some left-over scraps from a wedding gown, or a baby’s dress. A single quilt can piece together a whole lifetime of memories.” “Look at this one. It has their names on it.” She points to the embroidered names and date.
A bit later, “No, Grandpa. You have to stand back here. You’re too close to see them.” “See what?” “The big shapes. You can’t see them from that close.” “Oh,” he steps back to admire the larger design. “Thanks,” he says. “In a way,” he ponders, “that’s sort of like what learning history is all about.” “What is?”
- 71 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“Standing back to get a better view.” He explains.
“Yes, the same way we can look back at the past and spot a trend more easily.”
“Sometimes, we’re all so busy living our lives that we can’t really see what’s happening.
”Like we did with the canals and the trains and all the transportation changes,” she suggests.
“But years later, from farther away, we can look back and see a trend or a pattern take shape.”
“Yes.”
She nods. “So when we’re too close to something, we can’t see the whole thing?” “That’s right. Or maybe things are just changing too slowly to notice. Like the hands on a clock.” “Oh,” she laughs, “you mean like how my room gets messy real slow and I don’t notice.” “Yes. Bedrooms have that miraculous power, don't they. They can get messy all on their own,” he says. “So, some things will be easier to see from in the future?”
“Oh!” she realizes, “So, maybe learning about history is sort of like climbing up on a hill and being able to see more stuff from up higher. Like up on the Indian mound.” “That’s a great example,” he says. “From down on the ground, we probably wouldn’t’ve ever seen that snake,” she remembers. “Or rescued the rabbit,” he adds. “I’m sure it will be sending you a thank-you card soon.” She giggles. “Some day, you might make a great history teacher,” he suggests. “You’re already a good one now.”
- 72 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
“Thanks, Grandpa. You are too.” “What a nice thing to say. Thank you,” he replies. “Now tell me, what's the favorite thing you've found so far?” “Here, I'll show you!”
Excitedly, she leads him by the hand to a delicate, stylized, pen-and-ink drawing of an eagle.“Isn't it beautiful?” she asks. “It is. This says it was drawn several lifetimes ago by a soldier in the Civil War.”
1866 Pen and Ink Drawing by Athens County native, William W. Skinner., who served in the First West Virginia Light Artillery during the Civil War.
- 73 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
“Yes, I know. I saw that. I could never draw something this beautiful. Even my handwriting is awful,” she explains.
“Yes.” “Well. I guess the world would be a pretty ugly place without it,” she imagines. “And boring,” she adds.
“That’s OK,” he says. “You have other talents and skills. Nobody can do everything.
“And,” she guesses, “if everything was ugly, it would make me in a bad mood most of the time.”
“And besides,” he continues, “you seem to have the talent to appreciate great beauty. Not everybody seems to be able to recognize beauty.”
She wonders, “Maybe angry and mean people are that way because they can’t see beauty.”
“Really??” she asks. “That’s sad.” “I read that extreme beauty can put you into a trance and make your mind more open to new ideas.” he tells her. “Like being hypnotized, I guess.” She remembers, “Sometimes when I stare at beautiful things, I forget what time it is.”
“Maybe,” he considers her idea. “And maybe that’s why so many people are depressed. Maybe they're just starved for real beauty. She nods. “Now it’s your turn. Show me the best thing you found.” she says. “OK.” And he leads her back through the galleries to a small display about a very special pocket watch.
“Yes, me too. I wonder what we would do without it?” he asks.
“Oh, of course! More time stuff,” she laughs. “What a big surprise.”
“Without what? Beauty?”
“You like it?” he asks. - 74 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
“Sure. It’s nice. Much prettier than my watch at home. And heavier.”
measurement of time is important and should be respected.” he says.
“That’s because it was crafted a long time ago, back when the measurement of time was more rare, and precious.
“Grandfather clocks, too, were made into fine pieces of furniture, like works of art,” he explains. “And precisioncrafted pocket watches became something of a status symbol.”
“At first, not everyone could afford to carry the time around with them,” he explains.
“How come?”
“Well, since watches were “So clocks and expensive, watches that not everyone measured time could own one. were made into So, for business beautiful works men, investing of art.” in a nice pocket “One Watch to Rule Them All.” “Really?” watch was a sign she asks. of their professionalism.” “Yes. Just like the clock tower, “Why?” and the hourglass in the lobby. Because they're beautiful, they “Well, carrying a nice watch make you realize that the told others that your time was - 75 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
important to you,” he says, “much too important to waste.” She nods. “If you pulled out and displayed a beautiful, accurate pocket watch with a gold chain, people figured you were a successful person.” “Oh,” she laughs. “So they had snobs back then too, huh? “But how come this watch is so special?” she asks.
“Yes. That was so people wouldn’t miss the train,” she says. “Oh! And so the trains didn't crash into each other,” she adds quickly. “Exactly. So this watch was owned by a man named Theodore Dean who owned a stagecoach and drove people and their luggage between the Athens hotels and the Athens train depot.
Theodore Dean waits patiently at the Athens Depot.
“Well, remember when we rode the train in Nelsonville and we were talking about how the trains and the telegraph helped coordinate all the different cities so that they had the same time?” he asks.
“And because he was at the station several times a day, he would set his watch by the railroad's time. “Then, when he was parked uptown, other people would ask him for the correct time so they could set their watches.”
- 76 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
“So,” she clarifies, “everybody borrowed the time from him and this watch was kinda like the king watch in Athens, right?” “Exactly. 'One watch to rule them all.' ” he explains.
Then, she pulls out her $10 bill and smooths it out.
“Oh, you saw that movie, too!” she laughs.
“Grandpa, is it OK if maybe we skip ice cream today?”
“Of course.”
“But we get it every time.”
“Well,” she says. “I think it was nice that he would share the time with everybody.”
“I know. But just this once.”
“Yes. He was probably a nice guy. “But, I bet it probably also made him feel pretty important.” she figures. “And all the other people, probably felt good too.” she adds. “Ah, yes,” he agrees, “the good old days... back when just knowing the right time could make a man proud.”
B
ack at the entrance, just before leaving, she pauses to glance once more at the bronze-framed ‘Memo to the Future.’
“And miss out on your favorite? Beet and spinach?” She smiles. Then folds her money and pushes it through the slot, into the glass donation box. “Thank you,” she whispers quietly so he doesn't hear. It's not for him. Just above the exit, they smile at the inscription on the lintel:
He nods toward the hourglass, “We should probably be going. They’ll be closing soon.”
Re-Entering the Present. Watch Your Step.
- 77 -
Wondering through Southeast Ohio
S
o they step carefully through the door, back into the late afternoon in downtown Athens.
But, all on her own, without prompting, she chose to make an important sacrifice. And it would be unkind, and self-serving, to take that pleasure away from her.
The weather has cleared. The sun is out. The sidewalks are wet. “Looks like we missed another rainstorm,” he observes. They stand under a shade tree as their eyes adjust to the sunlight.
So, without even a flinch, they walk right on past the shop and the trio of teens out front who are laughing and licking their chosen flavors which melt down the sides of their cones.
The shadows are long. The spin of the earth has positioned the sun lower in the sky.
From an open window above, they hear someone playing guitar.
They are silent, still lost in a cascade of thoughts sparked by the exhibits.
Around them, people are coming and going, walking and talking, living their lives as they see fit.
Both look up as the clock tower chimes the three-quarter-hour.
“It can’t get much more perfecter than this, can it, Grandpa.”
Then, he takes her hand and they begin to retrace their steps back through town.
“No. Not much,” he agrees, wondering which details of this perfect day she will remember when she's his age, and he's gone.
Just ahead is the ice cream place. For a moment, he considers buying her an ice cream anyway.
A skateboarder sails by.
“Hey, let’s go finish those strawberries,” he suggests. - 78 -
Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.
A
“Do we have to go back now?”
nd so, they head back – gradually disengaging from the enchantment of the past.
“You’re not quite ready?” he asks, gently. She grasps his hand just a little more tightly and they walk along in silence.
And yet, even as the realities of their life seep back in, their world looks different...
Again, the distinctive scent of charred buildings. Once more, she pauses to consider the ruins and glances at the hand-written sign of optimism. Then, a few heartbeats later... “People just keep on going,” she whispers. He nods. “Yes, Sweetheart. Yes, they do.”
For now, they can see it more clearly, from a higher vantage point, from farther back, and with a broader perspective... One that is tempered by the wisdom, and the understanding, and the strength they have gleaned from having spent another timeless Saturday together... Just a grandfather and a granddaughter... Wondering their way through the beauty, and the treasures, and the stories of Southeast Ohio... in 2073.
- 79 -
We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all exploring will be to arrive where we started. And know the place for the first time. – T. S. Eliot
A
AUTHOR'S NOTE t the moment, both of these special individuals are at a disadvantage.
Neither has yet been born. And yet the things we and our culture choose to do today – how we live our lives – will affect how they live their lives, a half-century ahead. But before they move forward, just in case they do pause to look back and reflect on how we lived our lives, will we be proud of what they find? Will we serve as good role models for them? If they should happen to discover us, they may have questions about who we were and why we chose to do what we did (or did not do) with our own time on the planet. - 80 -
Since they cannot ask us these questions just yet, perhaps we should anticipate them, and answer them – if not for them, then for ourselves. Struggling with our answers may serve to help us find clarity and significance and purpose in our own lives. It may also affect how we decide to live what’s left of our time. And, of course, it may help us determine what we leave behind for them, and for society. Just in case our own lives are not quite lengthy enough to overlap with theirs, we should make sure our answers are somewhere to be found. Perhaps inside the Southeast Ohio History Center. Remember: Here, today – right now – at the neck of the hourglass, is the only place we can impact the future. It is here, and only here, that we can create our legacy. So, as we live our own little moment of eternity – and as we make our own futile grasp at immortality – we should be mindful of these two innocent and, as of now, unborn individuals wondering around in our future. After all, they may be our direct descendants – our personal couriers – delivering a blend of our own DNA to those who come after... On and on and on and on... throughout the centuries. JM, Athens County, Ohio - 81 -
- 82 -
Connect with the Present. Friends and Neighbors in Southeast Ohio
H
ere, in Southeast Ohio, we have something special.
So much of our relaxed lifestyle is driven by our our hills, rivers, trees, temperate climate and pastoral viewscapes. No doubt, this easy relationship with the natural environment enriches our quality of life. We are lucky not to be in the cities, boxed-in by concrete, where twice-daily traffic-snarls fuel “road-rage,” or crammed into work-cubicles or housing-units stacked skyward. It is easy to see how “too-many-people-all-the-time” might make a person yearn for a bit less social interaction. Here, in Southeast Ohio, those “people-weary” out-of-towners stand out. They’re the ones who don’t return a smile or a nod and wander among us as if they’re simply watching television. The aliens among us. Here, in our under-crowded corner of the state, we can balance solitude with time spent “being among people.” That luxury of a leisurely balance assures that sharing ourselves with others remains a thing to enjoy. - 83 -
Saturday Morning... A quick visit… to the post office for stamps to mail some thank you cards; to the Farmers Market for eggs and produce; and on to the local hardware store for some wood glue and advice before meeting a friend for lunch. Not an unusual Saturday – you’re more likely to run out of morning before you run out of fun. The actual exchanges of money for the stamps, the eggs, the produce, the glue, and the lunch will be tracked, tallied, dutifully accounted for in our nation’s economic system and churned into this year’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP). But this sum-total of everything sold during the year is for the economists, who deal mostly in nonsense. The really important transactions of the morning – the meaningful ones – are measured only indirectly by the economy, if at all: The mindless chitchat and innocent gossip. The gentle smiles we share with others. The fleeting interactions with strangers. It is these little human concurrences, not dollars, that make up the “currency of community.” Each interactive exchange builds a tiny connection, generates a spark of warmth, and – like a bead of superglue – binds us together. - 84 -
Perhaps our subconscious keeps a general balance sheet as we “pay-back” and “pay-forward” these interpersonal pleasures. And maybe it is this “running total” to which we refer when asked, “Did you have a good day?” Fortunately, these little kindnesses are an unlimited resource. There is no limit to how many times we are allowed to say “please” and “thank you.” Making friendly eye-contact and exchanging a nod with a stranger lets them know we see them. That they’re here. That we’re here. Both sharing our common space. Getting along just fine here in Southeast Ohio. Through the seasons, countless little gestures – like shoveling a neighbor’s sidewalk or watering their plants – go unmeasured and, therefore, unnoticed by the economic system. Yet all this neighborliness? Being sociable? And mingling? There is a name for it. It's called “Social Capital.” It serves as a measure of our “wealth of relationships” and is a much better barometer of our “quality of life,” our happiness, and our well-being than any dollar-based index of economic wealth. - 85 -
S
ocial capital is built from those little exchanges with other parents at the Little League game or the school play; from saying “Thank you” to the UPS driver and the person who so reliably delivers our mail. For both parties, each brief trade of pleasantries brightens the day. And, who knows? Maybe a single “thank you” to a clerk or bureaucrat will help assure friendlier and better-than-expected service – something else that, only indirectly, may find its way into the GDP. In fact, our abundance of social capital may actually lower the nation’s GDP, as reflected by fewer locks on our doors; fewer lawsuits; fewer horn honks; fewer traffic jams; fewer heart attacks; fewer sleeping pills, and fewer prescription meds for masking the symptoms of urban stress. A healthy dose of social capital is probably a good prescription for swapping out feelings of depression, isolation, and alienation with feelings of inclusion, connectedness, and belonging. At its very core, social capital is simply a measure of our feeling of “significance.” Each of us just wants to feel that we matter. Each day, without asking for permission, applying for a permit, or filing a report, each of us is free to reach out, and deliver a small dollop of significance to others – whenever we like; as often as we like. - 86 -
W
hen our communities are rich in social capital, then simple courtesy, thoughtfulness, and kindness tend to crowd-out status, snobbery, and pretense. After all, when someone holds the door for you, does it really matter if they're wearing designer shoes? Here, in Southeast Ohio, even those of us who are fiercely independent can enjoy having real neighbors, with names. If we like, we can know, by first name, our food producers, pharmacists, and politicians. In countless ways, we can share with one another our history, our traditions, our stories, our worries, our humor, our art, our food, and our music. By interacting with others, we feel acknowledged. Included. Significant. And with each stroke of significance comes the reassuring message that we belong. Banked over the years, this reserve of social capital helps to smooth over stress, softens the hard edges of life, and builds a measure of resilience into our lives. Social capital builds for us a kind of safety-net of confidence, woven from long strands of smiles, thank yous, and you’re welcomes. Deep down, we know that we have each other. - 87 -
I
t is this sense of connectedness that allows us to work individually but also together, as a community.
When so many people practice civility, we become more trusting; more open to big ideas; more likely to embrace possibilities that can make things better for us all. So when grand opportunities present themselves, we tend to work together to shape them into a reality for our common good. Regardless of how dismal the economists tell us the national or local economy may be, here in Southeast Ohio, our quality-of-life can continue to improve. Being neighborly and sharing our rural, small-town values is what brings our communities to life. It not only makes us feel significant, it anchors us to the present moment. And it makes us feel that our lives are comfortably entwined with others – our fellow passengers who, along with us, are just sharing a ride on this lonely planet as it makes its way around the sun. One of the most important things you can do on this earth is to let people know they are not alone. – Shannon L. Alder - 88 -
Social Clubs: Mark Hellenberg (no hat) with Washington County Hat Club – 1983
Wicker Wealth In town, or out in the country, it's nice to enjoy the fireflies on long-summer evenings in a leisurely, no-stress space that invites gossip, stories, laughter and chats among family and friends.
Design for Social Wealth.
T
he flow of our social capital fluctuates across the year.
During the sparkling snowbound months, we may light candles and invite a neighbor in for a warm conversation over mugs of steaming cider. But it is the warmer seasons and longer days which tempt us with outdoor opportunities to interact with others. Festivals. County fairs. Summer concerts. Baseball games. Parades. Bike paths. Sidewalks. Walking trails. Home and garden tours. Most all forms of public entertainment and recreation bring us into closer proximity with others with whom we might share common moments. So are there things we can do to build social capital into our community? To facilitate it? Nurture it? Make it happen almost automatically? Yes. When designing our houses, neighborhoods, parks, pubic buildings, and towns, we can consciously and deliberately create spaces where people can come together and interact. - 91 -
We can construct family rooms, decks, big front-porches, patios, gazebos, courtyards, plazas, town squares, playgrounds, and pedestrian malls. We can build community centers, churches, synagogues, mosques, museums, libraries, history and cultural centers – each outfitted with meeting rooms, auditoriums, and performance spaces for sharing music, theater, dance, art, and other “creative produce” from the community. With careful and smart city and county-planning, we can make it easier for people to shed their automotive cocoons and choose walking, bicycling, ride-sharing, and public transit as their preferred modes of travel. In our neighborhoods, we can maintain our yards, paint over graffiti, and pick-up litter to reassert our community standards and deepen our sense of civic pride. We can bring life to abandoned lots by turning them into little public parks with benches, tables, and swing-sets. Even classified ads, yard sales, thrift stores, and swap meets can weave together our community. By coming together to exchange the spoils of our excessive wealth, we can discover beauty and utility in cast-off items as we "timeshare" one another's belongings. Pull up a chair. Take a taste. Come join us. Life is so endlessly delicious. – Ruth Reichl - 92 -
E
ntrepreneurs and private businesses can also help increase “the magic of chance-encounters.”
Pubs with picnic tables; micro-breweries with beer gardens; restaurants with sidewalk seating; outdoor cafes; food carts; and bookstores with play areas, coffee nooks, and cozy seating areas – any one of these might spark an unexpected conversation among strangers which grows into a blazing friendship. These venues can also become places for social rituals – where we meet friends for monthly book clubs, weekly lunches, and after-work camaraderie.
Public dialogue is a good thing. In Athens, a Community Talks to Itself on Its Graffiti Wall.
Social capital can sprout from any opportunity which encourages people to express themselves, share their thoughts, voice their opinions, air their complaints, or offer suggestions for bettering our culture: - 94 -
Letters to the editor. Local call-in radio shows. Community Access Television channels. Open-houses. Community bulletin boards. Facebook pages. Graffiti walls. Neighborhood organizations. Receptions. Public forums. Lectures. Poetry readings. And Debates.
I
f we really want social capital to thrive, we need to look around occasionally and become aware of the things that may stifle it.
What Diminishes Our Social Wealth? Lots of things. A major culprit was replacing public transit with private automobiles. Before 1950, cities and towns and neighborhoods were designed for walking.
Walking Neighborhoods Promote Conversations.
Many houses had big front porches within talking distance of the sidewalk. Conversations flowed along the street as people walked through the neighborhood.
But in newer neighborhoods, the “set-back� for houses is far from the street, the sidewalks seem to have evaporated, and remote-controlled door-openers allow us to drive right - 95 -
inside the house without a glance or a nod to anyone. Is it a surprise we hardly know our neighbors? Consider... •Online banking and ATM machines. •Automated voice-tree phone systems. •Self-checkout lines and pay-at-the-pump gas stations. For the few seconds these technologies (sometimes) save us as they speed us on our way, they strip away our chance to interact with others during the business transaction. Yes, each individual human-interaction forfeited is small. And yet, they add up.
Soon, we may wonder... Why do we feel so alienated? Isolated? [Alone]? But long before that happens, we should ask ourselves: Is this downward-trend toward disconnectedness... Toward convenience over community... Toward the soulless depths of dystopia... Is it what we really want? How did we let this happen? And, can we slow its pace? Or reverse it? The answer is: Yes. Of course. “Welcome to our (secret) garden!”
(Anytime we like.) - 96 -
The Timeless Good Life in Southeast Ohio. Bait. Tackle. Minnows & Night Crawlers. The “Hotcakes” Band – not a single wristwatch among them – hangs out with Hughie Arnold in Stewart. 1979.
The more people that meet each other, the better it is for all of them. – Fletcher Pratt
The Donor's Dilemma. Too Many Choices.
A
s wealth creators, we know the importance of doing our due diligence to seek out the best investments which can safely earn us a maximum Return on Investment (ROI). But as donors and philanthropists, we often forget to apply similar standards when deciding how to disburse our wealth back into the community. We should not look at our charitable donations simply as a “tax write-off.” Nor should we think of our gifts as “giving away money.” Instead… We must see philanthropy as an opportunity (and, perhaps, as a selfish duty) to invest our amassed wealth in organizations and causes that can efficiently create additional value for our community. When distributing our monetary wealth, we should hold our major contributions to high standards. Just as we look around for the “best buy” when spending money on goods and services, we should do some comparison-shopping before deciding on which charities and non-profits to support. - 99 -
It would be shoddy practice and inefficient behavior to apply investment standards only to the wealth-acquisition stage and toss them aside during the disbursement stage. And so, because there are always competing requests for our contributions, we should ask: “What is the best way to invest this gift so that it delivers a larger ROI?” “Which organization – or cause – can best utilize this donation to deliver maximum value to the community in ways that are compatible with my personal values?” We should begin to think of charitable organizations as a “tool” – as an extension of ourselves – which can help us leverage our influence to improve the world around us.
Someone is sitting in the shade today because someone planted a tree a long time ago. – Warren Buffett
- 100 -
Establish Guidelines to Create Maximum Influence from Our Charitable Contributions.
F
or acquiring wealth, many of us have already established simple guidelines which help to narrow our investment decisions.
Often, these guidelines are aligned with our personal principles. Value-driven investment guidelines can help us navigate the vast ocean of opportunities so that our choices deliver a high ROI while remaining consistent with our core values. Maybe our chosen guidelines steer our investments toward environmentally or socially-responsible companies. Maybe our guidelines permit lower monetary-returns on some investments in exchange for knowing that they are not counter-productive to our moral code. In such cases, we may calculate “peace-of-mind” into the ROI formula by labeling it as one of the intangible “dividends” delivered by that investment. Similarly, when disbursing our wealth, it is smart to establish guidelines which serve to narrow our choices to those charitable investments which deliver a high ROI. - 101 -
Consider These Five Examples of “Philanthropic Guidelines.” 1. We may support only causes which stir our passions. Supporting research to cure a disease which has affected our family is an obvious example. Of course, occasionally, we may choose to support projects which address our passions only indirectly. For example, if we are passionate about family, community, and politics, then even if we do not personally care for outdoor music, we might choose to help fund the construction of a gazebo to host summer concerts. Why? Because regardless of how it is used, the gazebo will create a public space where the community can socialize and families can enjoy outdoor activities together. Also, by hosting events, the gazebo might draw tourists to the area which helps the local economy. And, the gazebo could be used for town meetings, debates, or political rallies. So even though the primary purpose of the gazebo — summer concerts — is not one that excites us, we can see secondary ways in which it can serve our interests. - 102 -
2. We may support only “locally-based” organizations. This guideline may be especially relevant when the source of our own personal wealth has come from the community. It assures that we “give back” to the common good and that our own community benefits from our generosity. Also, if we want to leverage our wealth for maximum ROI, it makes good sense to partner closely with organizations which are close to home. After all, when we send money to large, national “celebrity charities,” only a small percentage of our donation goes directly to the cause we want to support. With national charities, more than 70-percent of our gift may be skimmed-off to pay for expensive offices, enormous fund-raising budgets, highly-paid CEOs, and wasteful layers of bureaucracy. On the other hand, a local, home-grown-and-operated organization probably has lower overhead and less bureaucracy. Plus, it is easier to monitor. Maybe we already know and trust some of its staff or board members. And, from up-close, we can see how efficiently they’re transforming our contribution into community benefits. Best of all, when investing locally, our family and friends – and perhaps our descendants – may be able to enjoy the benefits provided by the organization. - 103 -
3. Until we have conducted proper due diligence, we may not disburse money for “Bailouts.” If an organization has endangered itself by mismanaging its funds, we do not want to engage in “enabling behavior” by allowing them to sidestep their present crisis instead of taking steps to solve their problem. Before we make any contribution to an organization in crisis, we need to understand exactly how they arrived in their present circumstances. And we want to know exactly what safeguards they have put into place to avoid the same complication in the future. 4. We will direct our gifts to benefit large numbers of people. Establishing an academic scholarship to support one promising individual each year is certainly a noble effort. Yet what if – with the same capital investment – we could establish and sustain an Academic Resource Center which provides scholars with on-line access to the cutting-edge research in the field? Over the coming decades, this investment might pay far higher dividends by serving hundreds of individuals each year – any one of whom might discover the precise puzzle piece needed to develop a major breakthrough in our field of interest. - 104 -
5. We will make fewer, but larger donations. Often, instead of allocating small amounts of money each year to a dozen organizations, we can achieve far greater impact by providing significant funding to a single organization. Over a dozen years, we can still support all twelve organizations if we like, but massively targeting one-each-year can leverage our overall impact. If the organization already has the talent, the resources, and the infrastructure in place, our more-sizable donation might provide them with greater clout, and the momentum they need to shape their vision into reality. If you give a large sum to one organization, you may want to require that they use it to “match” other donations with your contribution. Setting up a “challenge” can help attract and engage others who might not otherwise donate but who are motivated by knowing that their gift – up to a set limit – will be “matched” by you, In their mind, it doubles the size of their contribution. In this case, you will often focus on supporting campaigns for established organizations which already provide value to large numbers of individuals.
- 105 -
Use these 5 examples as a springboard to design your own “Philanthropic Guidelines” based on your own goals, passions, and personal values. Always keep in mind that your guidelines are not laws. Since you create them, you can change them. So, on occasion, you may choose to modify them, ignore them, or veto them. They are simply a tool intended to help you — not hinder you — when making decisions.
No wise pilot, no matter how great his talent and experience, fails to use his checklist.
– Charlie Munger
What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.
– Albert Pike
- 106 -
In Summary…
W
henever we face the dilemma of too many choices in life, a set of guidelines may help us choose with greater efficiency.
Guidelines can not only simplify our decision-making process but keep us on track. And, investment guidelines can help increase not only the return on our “wealth-acquisition” investments but also the return on our charitable investments. Consider establishing sets of carefully-thought-out guidelines to help you streamline your decisions and improve the ROI in all areas of your life: Your Health, Your Wealth, and, especially... Your Happiness.
Establish guidelines to simplify the decision-making process and to grow your health, your wealth, and your influence.
- 107 -
In Search of Taproot Opportunities. The Perfect Investment? Compound Your Generosity. Leverage Your Influence.
S
o many charitable opportunities presented to philanthropists are “shallow” – measured not by the amount of money requested but by the amount of value the organization can provide. There are countless small, shallow-rooted “shrub” and “sapling” organizations which need funding. One day, they may grow large enough to deliver significant value to the community. When they complement your own passions or where you feel a direct, personal and relevant connection to them – and when they meet your investment guidelines – you should consider funding them. However, when it comes to offering you a high ROI on your contribution, most “shallow opportunities” cannot compete with the benefits of “Taproot Opportunities.” Network Gives You Reach… Community Gives You Power!
– Ted Rubin - 108 -
Taproot Opportunities.
T
hese are grand and bold “high-value” projects usually mounted by respected organizations which have already created enormous social capital and are firmly-connected to the heart, spirit, and soul of the community. A taproot – the long, primary root from which smaller roots branch off – reaches deep into the earth to bring up water, minerals, and nutrients to nourish the tree and help it grow strong. It also anchors the tree into the ground to help it withstand storms over the years.
- 109 -
A
tree’s taproot sometimes reaches as far, or farther, below ground as the tree towers above ground.
It is the “Taproot Opportunities” which provide maximum leverage so your contribution can have the greatest impact. “Taproot Opportunities” appear only rarely – sometimes only once every few decades. Yet they can have a major and lasting impact on a community's economy and culture. For example... Establishing a “Business Incubation Center” – which provides shared office-space, resources, and expertise – can help to nurture vulnerable entrepreneurial start-ups during their vulnerable early years. To generate a positive ROI and be considered a success, these “incubators” need to help only a few struggling entrepreneurs become successful in creating new jobs and bringing economic resources into the region. Where do you find “Taproot Opportunities”? Often, they are sizable projects spearheaded by existing organizations which are expanding or developing new services. The additional value they hope to offer may create vast wealth and benefits which reach far into the future.
- 110 -
When Examining a “Taproot Opportunity” (or any charitable investment opportunity)...
Ask Yourself: How many people might this project benefit? For how long? A year? A decade? A century? Will it produce positive ripple-effects which may spill-over to influence others? Will it help to avoid (or prevent) toxic social problems? Will it help to grow our social capital which glues the community together? If the Opportunity Is a Cultural, Historic, or Arts-Based Endeavor, You Might Ask: • Will this project enrich the community? • Will it promote tourism and help the area economically? • Will it attract outside funding or grant opportunities? • Will it bring more beauty into the community? • Will it help individuals better-understand themselves or feel the profound nature of the world around them? • Will it provoke their curiosity, spark their imagination, or invite them to wonder? - 111 -
• Will it inspire them to be a better person and reaffirm their personal values? • Will it provide them with insight and meaning which can help them experience life more fully? • Will it leave them feeling more strong? More centered? More complete? More confident? • Will it make them feel more connected to our culture, our community, and to our region? • Will it challenge them to live a more vibrant life? Ask – and Answer – These Questions for Yourself, for Your Children, and for Your Grandchildren: 1. Will funding this organization benefit me and my own descendants? 2. Will it significantly enrich their lives? 3. Will it open-up new possibilities for them? 4. Will it make their community stronger, richer, and more resilient in the coming decades? Remember: True Taproot Opportunities Are Rare...
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So when we are lucky enough to discover them, we should seize the opportunity to invest in them heavily. Why? Because partnering with an organization that has a solid track-record, an enthusiastic board, and a talented and creative staff who have a solid goal and a bold dream allows us to plug directly into their accumulated assets, their social capital, their expertise, and their proven ability to create substantial value for society. And, by helping us reach deep, to touch the heart of the community, “Taproot Opportunities” enable us to leverage our impact and our influence in ways – and in magnitudes – far beyond what we could ever achieve on our own.
Quite Simply: “Taproot Opportunities” Are the “Gold Standard” of Charitable Investments.
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Philanthropy (noun)
altruistic concern for human welfare
The most useful and influential people in America are those who take the deepest interest in institutions that exist for the purpose of making the world better. – Booker T. Washington The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history. – George Orwell - 114 -
The Essential Beauty of Capital Campaigns. Leverage.
O
ne advantage of launching a “capital campaign” to collect large sums of wealth for a specific purpose is that it can combine our own resources with those of others in order to achieve a “critical mass” – a tipping point – which creates substantial benefits for society. Capital campaigns have the power to fund significant projects that can rarely be funded by a single individual. By drawing together resources from a large number of people, capital campaigns can build social capital by bringing together a large segment of the public and engaging them in a common endeavor. The more individuals who contribute, then the more people there will be to appreciate – and utilize – the benefits made possible by their collective wealth; the more pride they can share in their common effort; and the more vested the community will be in the outcome. Like a “barn raising,” the capital campaign, itself, can create a sense of community. Through an organized campaign, a large number of people – working in harmony – can quickly amass the wealth needed to hammer their common dream into reality. - 115 -
All buildings have a psychological as well as a purely visual effect on the landscape. – Elisabeth Beazley
We shape our buildings; thereafter they shape us. – Winston Churchill
Monday Morning 8:37 am, 2016
Dear Fellow Philanthropist, Deep, Enduring Satisfaction. Do you know those “heart-centered opportunities” that so rarely come along? The ones that give us a deep and enduring sense of satisfaction? The ones that contribute extraordinary value to the community? The ones that create something positive, lasting, and truly worthwhile? Let me tell you about one of them: It is a “Taproot Opportunity” rooted deeply in this region of the state we call “home.” - 117 -
During our Capital Campaign, we are inviting you and other influential individuals to partner with us to establish a cultural treasure for our region –
The Southeast Ohio History Center. We, our children, and theirs, can be proud that we took part in this particular opportunity to strengthen our regional commons.
At the center of this endeavor is... The Restoration and Re-Purposing of the Historic First Christian Church in Downtown Athens.
T
his dignified, century-old structure – already listed on the National Register of Historic Places – radiates a quiet, confident presence.
As the new home for our area's history and culture, it will serve as... • an archive for documenting the unfolding history of the region; • a genealogical research library for tracing the continuity of our lineage; • a storehouse and vault for preserving our growing collections of regional artifacts; and... - 118 -
• a museum, gallery, and exhibition hall for sharing the enlightening and inspiring stories, ideas and values which define our regional culture. Also, this Southeast Ohio History Center will serve as a public space so that we – as a community – can come together to take part in civic discussions, debates, lectures, presentations, concerts, dinners, and other forms of social engagement. Those who forge this vision into reality will feel contentment in knowing that every future educational, entertainment, or social event hosted in this Center will help weave together more tightly – in so many ways – the fabric of our community.
In doing so... Each event will serve to compound and leverage the value of our own investment. Far beyond our own lifetime, our gift of this History Center, its archives, and its collections will encourage others to...
“Pause. Look Back. Reflect. Move Forward.” - 119 -
It will offer anyone the opportunity to step back across time... and wonder! In distant years, it will help individuals gain a better understanding of who we were and – more importantly – who they are. Each artifact, each story, each exhibition will help someone discover more about themselves – and their place in the world. We invite you to become one of our major partners in this bold and ambitious venture. By example, your participation will inspire others to contribute so that they, too, can see – and experience – what things can be accomplished through the “collective power” of philanthropy.
Please consider becoming a leading part of this effort. This is an opportunity, once again, to feel that deep satisfaction which comes from applying our generosity to something far bigger than ourselves. Together – from right here in 2016 – we will leverage our influence well into the Twenty-Second Century.
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By gifting this History Center to the shared commons, we can inspire friends, family, distant descendants, and complete strangers to begin – or deepen – their own enduring love affair with Athens County and Southeast Ohio.
And please know that... For our community and our region, (and for the untold future generations not yet able to voice their gratitude) we want to say “Thank You” – again – for all the things you already do for our area and for your generous support in helping us turn this promising vision into an enduring reality.
Tom O’Grady, Executive Director Athens County Historical Society & Museum The Board of Trustees The Capital Campaign Committee
P.S. This particular philanthropic gift is one which all of our families and friends can enjoy on a regular basis. Please Continue... - 121 -
It is a gift we can share proudly with our colleagues, clients, and even our out-of-town guests. With each lecture, presentation, discussion, concert, dinner or exhibition they attend; with each genealogical puzzle-piece they discover in our research library; and with each glance they take at our clock-tower to ground themselves in the present moment, they will experience – again and again – the very real benefits of our heart-centered generosity. Maximize Your Generosity. Leverage Your Influence. Touch – and Inspire – Future Generations.
AthensHistory.org Please Come Visit Our New History Center. 24 W State, Athens, OH 45701
Or Call Us @ 740-592-2280 - 122 -
The falls at
Old Man's Cave in the Hocking Hills State Park. It is named for Richard Rowe, a hermit who lived in the recess cave after coming to Ohio from Tennessee in 1796. Today, this and other nearby caves provide outdoor recreational opportunities for residents and visitors to Southeast Ohio.
The End of Yet Another Perfect Day in Southeast Ohio. As seen from just across the Ohio River, in West Virginia.
There are many ways to salvation, and one of them is to follow a river. – David R. Brower
One of the pleasant things about small town life is that everyone...has some kind of a role and place in the community. – Edward Abbey