Lifted up

Is it rare to come away from a funeral uplifted? I’m not sure, but uplifting certainly is an accurate way to describe Marilyn (Nickell) Gibbs’ funeral Saturday morning at the United Methodist Church in Corydon.

Marilyn, with whom I attend school at both Dry Flat and in Russell, died early Tuesday in Gainesville, Florida, of injuries sustained in a car-pedestrian accident Monday evening in Ocala.

It’s usually possible to tell a good deal about the deceased from those who gather to say goodbye, and that was the case Saturday. A crowd of about 500 filled the good-sized church, then overflowed into and filled to bursting the parish hall behind it, separated by a glass wall. Every age and approach to funeral attire was represented, from young to old, boots and jeans to suits, ties, heels and Sunday-go-to-meeting dresses.

I’m still a little worried about the women of the little United Methodist Church in Millerton, just north of Corydon, which Marilyn and her husband of 45 years, Floyd, attended. As we left after the service, they were preparing in the Corydon church kitchen to feed the multitude after graveside rites at the Corydon Cemetery.

Co-officiants were the Rev. Diane Olson Schroeder, just assigned last year as associate pastor in a parish that includes Corydon, Millerton, Sewal and New Zion, a country church west of Corydon, and the Rev. Leroy Perkins, Marilyn’s senior-year classmate at Corydon High School and pastor of United Methodist Churches in Allerton, Clio and Lineville.

It was remarkable, to me at least, how all elements of the service combined to reflect Marilyn as she was --- someone who had lived each of her 63 years fully and enjoyed every minute. “She just loved everybody,” a family member said as the service closed, and that love was returned.

+++

There always are southern Iowa moments, including at funerals. I had parked on the west side of the square, as close as it was possible to get the church, and walked up the street with two sisters, dressed identically in black trousers and black jackets. The younger was 78.

We introduced ourselves, not by name but by starting to visit, at a patch of ice near the Wayne Theater. “This is the year I learned the old-lady shuffle,” the younger sister said as we negotiated a crossing.

The conversation continued about this and that, as if we’d known each other for years, all the way to the church, where we parted in the narthex. I didn’t get their names, nor did they get mine. But that wasn’t the point.

Redemption and the Winter Games

So many great stories covered so well, in most cases live by NBC, during the Vancouver Winter Games. Darn it, they’re almost over. Brace for the return of banality, obscenity and general silliness. If memory serves, it’s been two weeks since I last saw a commercial for products designed to deal with erectile dysfunction or feminine hygiene issues (although they probably were out there somewhere; just not among the Olympics sponsors).

It’s been interesting to be reminded that competitive athletes of Olympic proportions are the major celebrities in other nations --- skiers in Scandinavia, speed skaters in the Netherlands, multiple sports in China and, in South Korea, the incomparable Kim Yu-na, who performed her way to gold Thursday night in women’s figure skating. Wonder if we should reconsider who we look up to or are obsessed by in this sprawling disjointed country of ours.

What a performance Kim Yu-na turned in! Isn’t it neat that talent combined with training and presence of mind can sometimes still result in perfection?


The night probably belonged to Joannie Rochette, who skated to bronze borne up by her own guts, the legacy of her late mother’s love and an amazing display of Olympics-wide (certainly Canada-wide and most likely world-wide, too) support. “Feel the love” is treated as a joke nowadays, but in this instance you really could and it was amazing.

I kept thinking about how pleased her mother. Therese, who died Sunday of an apparent heart attack after arriving in Vancouver from Quebec to watch her daughter skate, would be. Maybe we all need to remember when confronted by our own griefs that Joannie had the right idea. Those we mourn certainly wouldn’t want to be forgotten, but neither would they want us to wallow in mourning as we’re prone to do. They would want us to redeem the day, in our modest ways, as Joannie did so spectacularly.


And how about that Jeret “Speedy” Peterson who pulled off his “hurricane” and nailed the landing to take silver in men’s freestyle aerials? Here’s a case of redemption brilliantly capped and the rest of us taken along for the ride.

Just think of all he’s overcome --- depression, the death of a sister killed by a drunk driver, watching a roommate kill himself in 2005, alcoholism, suicide attempts, ejection from the athletes’ village at the 2006 Torino Olympics after slugging a friend, bankruptcy and more. Brilliant!

Then there was Bill Demong’s gold and Johnny Spillane’s silver in Nordic Combined, capping the best Olympics ever for U.S. skiers in Nordic events. And still a few more days and a few more events to go.

The Summer Games, slated for London, are two years away now; and Russia will host the next Winter Games in 2014. If somehow we could manage the Olympics every year, rather than every other, the world might be a more hopeful place.

+++

Prolonged exposure to Canada and Canadians has been a major pleasure of the Winter Games, too.

So far as broadcasting is concerned, I’ve gotten the biggest kick out of Mary Carillo’s brief features from just about everywhere in Canada as coverage has continued. She’s great and willing to try, it seems, just about anything.

It’s been a pleasure, too, to cheer for our neighbors when they win big. In addition to Rochette, there were unforgettable images of moguls gold medalist Alexandre Bilodeau greeting his brother, Frederic, born with cerebral palsy; the perfect ice dancing performance of gold medalists Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir --- and much more..

So what if Canada didn’t own the podium, as it had hoped. Quality counts.

Canada obvious is a territory as diversely beautiful as the United States, and seems to have a substantially greater commitment to the environment. Although there have been issues up there, too (a once-strident separatist movement in Quebec comes to mind), Canadians seem more mannerly and, perhaps, just plain nicer than we are on the average. And besides, they have a health system that works.

+++

One of the bummers of the week was watching (briefly) the continuing health care reform debate in this country, including that odd “summit” at Blair House.

Sadly, the Republicans probably are right in stalling the current confused and confusing general overhaul legislation, but probably for the wrong reasons.

I wonder if most lawmakers, deep down inside, realize that the only long-term way to keep the U.S. health care system from choking as costs rise and the number of those able to afford or even find insurance declines is a single-payer government-run system much like Canada’s or our own Medicare/Medicaid. That sort of system is of course easier to operate when the population is 34 rather than 300 million. And the for-profit (often wearing non-profit status) health-care and health insurance industries stridently oppose it.

Politicians from top to bottom just haven’t got the guts even to talk about it.

+++

Speaking of commercials, three have been getting on my nerves lately. Two are by Qwest, one featuring a guy who always came in second until he got a good deal from the advertiser, and the other, a thick-headed oaf who invades a French classroom in order to use WiFi and concludes the teacher is pursuing a relationship. Both commercials seem demeaning, the latter especially so as it targets both oafs and women.

The other is brought to us by one of trade schools in Des Moines (they’re calling themselves universities these days, heaven help us), but I can’t remember if it’s Kaplan or Vatterott. The commercial is all about how quick and easy it is to become a medical technologist. I doubt that. But if it is true, I’m not sure I want to get involved in a health care system where the technologists go to work after two weeks’ training in a strip mall, as the commercial implies.

Cabin Fever

What with the cold, the snow and all, it’s been good winter down this way for cabin fever, a vague disorder brought on by too much time spent cooped up inside. This despite the fact the simplest of our cabins these days is equipped with electricity, central heating and plumbing and located only a 3- to 30-minute drive from the nearest grocery store. Television, telephones and all these computers connect us to the world --- so long as the lights stay on.

This is a fairly recent development.. Only 150 years ago, a snap of the fingers where time is concerned, the cabins really were cabins and those walls we’ve been staring at beyond the computer screens would have been made of logs, some dressed but others with bark intact.

If you’d like to see an example, look (above) on the Lucas County Historical Society Museum campus where a cabin dating perhaps from the 1850s was reassembled in 2000 after having been moved log by log some years earlier from where it was built near Newbern Cemetery.

The single room with loft is more spacious than you might think, looking at the exterior, but considering the size of families and the number of generations expected to remain under one roof back on those days, it must have been awfully crowded on cold winter days when many people were confined inside, the door had to remain closed and a wooden shutter often was the only covering for a glassless window.

THE McDERMOTT CABIN

We have a fairly good idea of what one of the first cabins in Lucas County --- that of William and Nancy McDermott built in the fall of 1847 out near what now is Bethel Cemetery --- looked like thanks to the 1881 history of Lucas County. McDermott, in Cedar Township, and John Ballard, in English, generally are recognized as Lucas County’s first permanent settlers. Ballard moved on while McDermott lived here until his death and is buried Bethel --- you can’t get much more permanent than that. Because he was illiterate, old Bill wrote no memoir. He was a good story-teller, however, and those stories probably are the source of the following paragraphs, found on pages 380-81 of the 1881 history:

“William McDermit (sic), a native of the green Isle of Erin, (arrived) in September, 1847, near the eastern limit of the county, some ten miles from Chariton, in what is now Cedar township. He was accompanied with his wife Nancy, and four children of tender years. He gave to his settlement the name of ‘Ireland,’ the land of his nativity. He came from Illinois and first settled near Pella, Marion county, but the “Dutch” were crowding too closely, and he sold his claim there for $1,000, and pushed out to a new locality. With his capital thus acquired, two yoke of cattle, a wagon, his household effects and family, he started for Monroe county, where he reached the house of Henry Harter in August, 1847, with whom he left his family while he made a prospecting tour for a new home. He came into Lucas county, some fifteen miles distant, and he was so pleased with the country that he laid claim to one hundred and sixty acres in section sixteen, of its virgin soil, upon which to make his future home and rear his family. He then returned over to Monroe county, where he had left his family and worldly effects, and with them he at once returned to his claim in Lucas, which he reached early in September, bringing with him some men --- Henry Herter, John Bell, Sam Richmond and Charles Reynolds, of that settlement, to aid him in the construction of his cabin. It was sixteen feet square, built of round oak logs, and covered (roofed) with clapboards. This accomplished, his friends, who thus aided him, returned to their settlement in Monroe county.

“This accomplished, he found that winter was approaching and he must provide supplies for it. He made every arrangement for his family he could by making a log heap in front of the new shanty, upon which his wife could cook their food, as he had not yet built a chimney in it. The next morning he was to start to Oskaloosa, forty-five miles away, to mill, for his groceries and other supplies for the winter, and to his surprise he found his oxen were missing. Concluding that they had gone back to Harter’s, which was on the route, he gathered up his sacks and started out on foot. Finding his cattle there he borrowed a wagon and proceeded on his journey. He was gone some ten days. During this period Mrs. McDermit with her four children --- the eldest but nine, and the youngest short of a year old --- as her sole companions, remained at the cabin in her solitude. The cabin had yet no door, no window, nor floor, though places were cut for the former. She cooked upon the log heap in front and slept alone in the open cabin at night, as her only shelter.

“Not a white being, save her children, nearer than fifteen miles away; and a band of Pottawattamie Indians were camped on the Cedar creek not far away, who, in their hunting ranges, would occasionally call at the cabin in the day. However, they were friendly, and did not molest her. There were a few who lingered behind after their surrender of the territory under the treaty of 1843, and the final exodus of the tribes beyond in the Missouri in the spring of 1846. They found abudance of deer and turkeys to hunt at that time. During those ten days that McDermit was absent, the wolves broke the solitude of the nights and made them hideous with their howls; and not infrequently they would surround the cabin and attack the faithful watch dog, who would keep them at bay until they retired and their howls were lost in the distance. Here was bravery exemplified, vividly illustrating the courage, dangers and privations of the pioneer. How many women of Lucas county would to-day exercise the nerve and fortitude which Mrs. McDermit did during those ten days --- yea, during her whole pioneer life?

“When McDermit returned he at once finished his cabin, placed in it condition for comfortable occupance by building a chimney, putting in a window, making a door and floor. The latter was made of basswood logs, with one side hewn smooth and edged, and laid down so they made a comfortable surface. The openings between the logs were filled with prairie mud. It is said that he made the floor the next Sunday after his return for his winter’s supplies, which he probably regarded a work of necessity.”

This cabin with additions continued to serve the McDermotts as home until the early 1870s, when a family dispute broke out. Some of the children wanted to move farther west to Kansas, as did their mother. William was determined to remain in Lucas County. A separation was agreed upon, The Cedar Township farm was sold. Nancy moved west and William, into Chariton, where he died on Aug. 1, 1875. He is buried beside his son, Daniel, in Bethel Cemetery.

ELLEN BERRY BADGER REMEMBERS

Some of the most thorough descriptions of the earliest Lucas County homes were written in 1923 by Ellen (Berry) Badger, who arrived in Chariton just before her 13th birthday during October of 1853. The party she traveled with had left Lawrence County, Indiana, on Sept. 15, 1853, in six wagons and two buggies.

Ellen, youngest surviving daughter of John Marr and Anna (East) Berry, born Oct. 13, 1840, had been left motherless at age two when Anna died on Jan. 3, 1843, in childbirth complicated by the measles. At age 12, Ellen was living with her elder sister, Lucretia, and Lucretia’s husband, Isaac Julian.

Another of Ellen’s sisters, Susannah, had married James Mitchell some years earlier and they had moved about 1850 with his father, Joe, to Lucas County, where Joe took up land that later was occupied by the Lucas County County Home (now site of the HyVee cold storage warehouse), just northwest of Chariton. James and Susannah lived a mile and a half north of Joe.

It was the presence of the Mitchells as well as Berry cousins Jesse Wells and Elizabeth Wells (Mrs. Aaron) Scott, that drew the Julian/Berry party to Lucas County in the fall of 1853, traveling as many did then in the fall in order to be prepared to plant in a new location the following spring.

The prairie schooner in which Ellen had traveled from Indiana with Isaac and Lucretia as well as her brother, Alexander, called Alec, then 20, arrived at the James Mitchell cabin on Sunday, Oct. 9. That night, the first killing frost of the season occurred.

James and Susannah Mitchell and their two children, Joe and Eliza, invited the Isaac Julians as well as Ellen and Alec to stay with them until housing could be built or located. The meant eight people, five of them adults, shared one room. Here is Ellen’s 1923 recollection of that cabin:

“It was built of round logs with bark on, cracks chinked with pieces of wood cut as nearly to fit as possible, then put into place and daubed with mud. There were few singles to be had as they had to be made by hand, and most of the cabins were covered with clapboards. To make them they would hunt a tree that would split straight, then saw off cuts about three feet long; then split off boards with a hand tool called a frow. They shed rain fairly well, but the snow would come under them in case of a storm of wind and snow, and we could not have much fire or the snow would melt and we would be all wet. The floors were made of puncheons, roughly dressed with axe and foot adz, which left many cracks. There was one door and we could see plenty of daylight between the boards. It hung on wooden hinges that squeaked every time it opened or shut. It fastened with a wooden latch that worked with a string. A hole was bored in the door and the string passed through the hole, so all we had to do was pull the string inside when we wanted to lock our door. The window, like most all of the other neighbors’, was a hole about two feed square cut in the logs and a board shutter made for it that fastened with a peg, and it was almost always too cold in winter to have either the door or window open. Heating was done by a fireplace, also the cooking. To make one they would hunt for stone enough to build the fire chamber against the wooden wall, then the rest of the way they would build it with prairie sod cut in blocks. These often would get loose and crumble down, then, oh, how they would smoke when the wind would blow! Sister had a better outfit for housekeeping than most of the neighbors. One high post bedstead and one homemade one, a nice big chest to keep things dry and safe from mice, also handy for a seat, some trunks, five chairs and a good fall leaf table.

"Well, they took in the four uf us for about a month until Isaac could find a place to winter. They had no shelter outside of the house except a little log stabling covered with prairie straw. In daytime we piled the bedding all on the bedsteads and at night those that slept in the bedsteads had to go to bed first and get out of the way so we could make down the beds for the ones that slept on the floor. The first one up in the morning had to start a good fire so there would be coals on which to cook our breakfast, which was generally corn pone or buckwheat cakes and Orleans molasses. Boots and shoe were made of cowhide. Overshoes had not yet been heard of. Women, most of all, wore the cowhide, as walking in the grass so much quickly spoiled leather. The roads were not traveled enough to make much mud or dust."

After a few weeks with the Mitchells, four more members of the Julian family arrived in Chaariton --- Isaac’s brother, Jacob; his wife, Amanda; their baby, Willie; and “Uncle” Rene Julian, father of Isaac and Jacob. They had traveled earlier with the Julian/Berry party almost to Lucas County, but then headed up into Marion County to visit Leannah (Julian) Woody and her husband, Thompson, Leannah was a sister of Isaac and Jacob, daughter of Rene, and had settled in Marion County three years earlier.

Isaac and Rene Julian set out immediately to find a permanent home for the winter and located in the same neighborhood Jacob Phillips, anxious to sell his place, which had two cabins on it, and return to Illinois. The Jacob Julians settled into one cabin; Isaac and Lucretia, Ellen, Alec and Rene, into the other.

“This cabin was built of hewn logs,” Ellen wrote, “had two doors, a six-pane glass window, a plank floor, and dressed plank the doors were made of. A lean-to or shed room was on the north side, and sod chimney.

“Now we were all nicely located for the winter. It was less than a mile to Mitchells, about a mile to cousin Jesse Wells and about two miles to Uncle Joe (Mitchell). We had three chairs. Uncle Renne got two bedsteads, and a good homemade cupboard that we could shut the mice out of our food. Table about four feed square, and we had some boxes we brought our goods in that we used for seats. The boys made a trundle bed for Uncle Renne that we shoved under one of the other beds in daytime, and at night was pulled near the fire.”

After a winter and summer in this new cabin, other family members --- Sally (Julian) Sullivan and her husband --- arrived in Lucas County. It was decided that they would move in with Rene into the cabin the family had occupied . Isaac, Lucretia and Ellen would move to a new 160-acre claim about a mile and a half southeast of what now is Oakley.

“They made a tent out of the wagon sheets and bed clothes,” Ellen wrote, “until the men could get logs and lumber for the cabin. By this time there was a saw mill on the creek north of Oakley, so we had some native boards for doors and floor, but there was no planning of lumber for this building. We got into it before it got cold. Got some pole and log pens made and covered with prairie straw for the stock. We lived pretty snug and warm that winter. It was now two miles to the nearest neighbor. We now had a cookstove which we put in the middle of the room; one end was the kitchen while the other was the bedroom.”

And with that, Ellen ends the descriptions of her early Lucas County homes.

Prior to 1860, the Sullivans moved on and Isaac and Lucretia bought and moved back with their children and Ellen to the cabin where Rene Julian now was living alone, remaining there five years. During those years, Rene died (on March 16, 1861, age 77) as did Isaac (on 21 January 1865, age 36). All are now buried in the Chariton Cemetery, although Rene at least was buried first at Douglass. Upon Isaac’s death, Lucretia sold the farm and moved with her four children and Ellen into Chariton, ending the family’s log cabin days.

Ellen married Samuel Badger on Dec. 25, 1866, in Chariton, and lived the remainder of her life on farms in the Chariton Point neighborhood, just southeast of town. She died in 1934, some 10 years after writing her memoirs.

Further reading: Copies of Lucas County’s 1881 history may be found in the Lucas County Genealogical Society library at the Chariton Public Library. A complete transcript of Ellen (Berry) Badger’s memoirs may be found here.

Sunshine and shadow ...

... on the Feast Day of St. Matthias.

I got up this morning thinking of my long-ago classmate and friend, Marilyn (Nickell) Gibbs, who we learned at church last night had died early Tuesday after being struck Monday night in a crosswalk on a busy street in Ocala, Florida. Marilyn and her husband, Floyd, of Corydon, had delivered a recreational vehicle to Ocala and had just had supper before the accident occurred.

I had always thought of Marilyn in terms of sunshine because of her disposition --- as I remember it --- and had been thinking of her and those old days just the week before after being reminded forcefully that I was mispronouncing “Nodyroc,” the name the Gibbs gave to the old Grismore Motel in Corydon after taking it over a good many years ago. It’s pronounced NoddyRock, by the way --- as good a way as any to speak “Corydon” spelled backwards.

Marilyn and I attended school together first at Dry Flat, a mile south of the farm. I was whisked away to begin third grade in Russell but a few years later, after country schools were consolidated and we all were sent to school in town, Marilyn and some of my other Dry Flat schoolmates were sent to Russell, too. That was a gerrymandering plunge into Wayne County by the Russell school district that also scooped up the Wrights (then living on what I still think of as the old Wishmeyer place), the Nichols, the late and much lamented Linda Allard, and others.

Marilyn did not graduate with us in Russell, since her family established a café and motel (was it the Sharon Motel, called after Marilyn’s younger sister?) at the then-intersection of Highways 2 and 65 south of Humeston and west of Corydon and moved there. But we considered her an honorary classmate and were happy when she came to class reunions.

In those last days of innocence shortly before and after graduation, in a time when it still was possible to be remarkably innocent at age 18, several of us who belonged to that exceptionally close-knit Class of 1964 piled into cars and drove down to that restaurant to have supper with Marilyn.

This has been a hard year so far for that tiny class, 18 in all. Our classmate Sandy Walker died earlier after a long struggle with illness and a spring memorial service in Russell is anticipated. The sadness among those of us now on the remote edges of the lives of these long-ago friends is nothing, of course, when compared to the present grief of those who loved them now. God rest and bless them all.

+++

This is one of the Lenten Ember days (along with Friday and Saturday), an ancient establishment of the western church of obscure origin set aside for prayer and fasting, and also, in the Episcopal Church still, the feast day of St. Matthias, whom the Acts of the Apostles tells us was chosen by lot (after prayer) to be an apostle to replace Judas Iscariot after his betrayal of Jesus and suicide.

Here’s the Lenten meditation for today, taken from this year’s booklet distributed by Episcopal Relief and Development, a benevolent arm of the Episcopal Church. This year’s meditations were written by Sr. Claire Joy of the Community of the Holy Spirit.

“St. Matthias won the toss. He got to be a disciple because the eleven gambled. I know how easy it is to throw seven farkles out of ten; this was quite a feat. (Of course, we’re told, the disciples prayed first.)

“Okay. But that’s all we know about Matthias, nothing else. He’s one of those unsung heroes; his fifteen minutes of fame boiled down to a throw of the dice.

“If he was martyred, it’s not mentioned; if he gave up the faith, it’s certainly not mentioned. Whatever his accomplishments, they are known only to God.

“We don’t want to be remembered like that. We want to leave a legacy. But, like so much of life, our human legacy will be determined by the whims of those who come after us. Our spiritual legacy … that will be remembered by God.”

Good news for Lucas County researchers

The Lucas County Genealogical Society has launched two online projects, one in cooperation with the Chariton Public Library, that will be welcomed by anyone interested in Lucas County research.

First, Darlene Arnold’s index to vital records found in all existing issues of Lucas County newspapers published at Chariton is now available online. I’ve written about Darlene’s index before; it’s amazing.

Over the course of several years, Darlene (above) read on microfilm every page of every surviving issue of every newspaper ever published at Chariton, noting reports of deaths, births and marriages and a variety of other articles related to family history. She compiled the results of her work into a huge index that has been available for several years to users of the LCGS library at the Chariton Public Library and on CD at a few other repositories.

Quite recently, the Chariton Public Library offered its Web site as a launching platform for the index and it now is available there as a series of PDF files arranged alphabetically by surname and given name. The library’s genealogy launch page may be found by clicking here. Once there, you’ll find two links to “Chariton Newspaper Index 1867-2005.” You also may access the launch page by clicking on “Lucas County Genealogy” in the sidebar to this blog.

Using the index is one of the best ways to prepare for a personal research visit to the genealogical library. Society volunteers also will provide copies of individual articles for a minimal per-item fee to those unable to visit the library personally. Contact information is on the launch page.

This is a spectacular resource of a sort that so far as I know is not available elsewhere for so extensive a collection of newspapers. Personally, I’d advise a little restraint on the part of researchers since in some cases several hundred records are indexed for surnames. It’s probably best not to place an order for “everything” and be a little more selective. Not that you’ll bankrupt yourself, but you easily could overburden the limited number of researchers available to assist you.

+++

The other development is a new Lucas County Genealogical Society blog launched on behalf of the society by Russell’s Lynne Wilson. You’ll also find a link to the blog on the library’s launch page or may go directly to it by clicking here.

The selection of material posted by Lynne in just a few weeks is remarkable and if you’re interested in Lucas County genealogy or local history, I think you’ll want to become a regular visitor.

Don’t miss in the blog sidebar under the header “My Blog List” a series of links to sub-blogs to the main blog, each devoted to a specific topic.

You’ll also find in the sidebar information about upcoming meetings, contact information for society officers and updates on new additions to the library shelves.

So in the course of a few weeks, the LCGS has gone from a minimal Web presence to a mighty one. Thanks to all involved!

+++

Also available to researchers is the USGenWeb Lucas County page that may be accessed here. Several hard-working coordinators have posted a wealth of information here over the years, but at present the site is available for “adoption” and little new has been added recently.

The USGenWeb site is not affiliated with LCGS. Management of the site has changed often over the years in part because coordinating it is a heavy burden for a volunteer and conflicts with the USGenWeb management personnel occur with some frequency. None of that diminishes the value of what you’ll find here, however.

A few changes here

Quite frankly, I'm tired of looking at snow and had gotten tired of looking at the Blogger template used to power this blog. I can't do much about the snow, but I can change the template, which is what I've done. The advantage to the new template is that I can use a photo of my own in the header and these will change from time to time. The disadvantage: the text is scrunched into a narrower column width. I expect I'll get used to that.

I've also made a few changes in the sidebar. The Lucas County Arts Council link is gone because the council no longer maintains a Web site. I've changed the Lucas County Genealogy link to reflect a new day for research opportunities offered by the wonderful Lucas County Genealogical Society. I'll have more to say about that tomorrow. And under "Episcopaliania" I've substitued a link to my current church home, St. Andrew's of Chariton, to replace the old, St. John's of Mason City.

There is a great deal of material related to regional genealogy and local history buried in this blog, which has been maintained for several years now. It's difficult to find unless you know exactly what you're looking for and can do a search. So I've begun an effort to index this material in the sidebar, starting with "Astray in the Chariton Cemetery." This feature will expand and change as time passes, but at least it's started.

There will be more changes, improvements I hope, as the time passes. I remain opinionated and somewhat cranky. That is unlikely to change.

Jesus was purple and other stuff

I was ready to start complaining about shoveling the driveway again after a Sunday afternoon and evening snowfall, then here came the neighbor with a big snow blower to finish off the job I’d started at 7. I’ve nothing to complain about now. It’s a beautiful, sunny, very cold morning and a great day to be alive.

It looked to me like about four inches as I shoveled the drive to the point where the house-paralleling sidewalk joins it, then the sidewalk, before coming inside for coffee. The amount increased as you got closer to the Missouri state line, I understand, and schools here and to the south are out for the day again.

+++

How about that Bode Miller (above), now redeemed after disappointment in Torino; the U.S. hockey team (didn’t you feel kind of sorry for Canada, though?); spectacular U.S. and Canadian ice dancing teams; and Apollo Anton Ohno, always fun to watch? I’m looking forward to women’s figure skating. Without serious U.S. contenders it’ll be easier to root for entries from other nations.

Best enjoy the Olympics while we can, since lesser fare will return after the weekend and I can send the television into semi-retirement again. Already there have been adverts featuring a smirking Jay Leno tooling along a highway somewhere in one of his Corvettes, reminding us he’ll be back to late night come next week. Sort of reminded me of the words spoken in church last Wednesday as the priest made the sign of a cross in ashes on our foreheads, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you will return.”

+++

Sir Elton John made news in some religious circles recently by stating in an interview with Parade magazine (who knew Parade was still around?) that he envisioned Jesus as a “compassionate, super intelligent gay man who understood human problems.” After that remark bit him on the ass, he hastened to explain that he was not suggesting Jesus was gay, merely that as a gay man that was how he experienced Him. We create God in our own or other peculiar images all the time, after all, and so long as it’s done respectfully I doubt Jesus minds.

I started out in life thinking Jesus was purple, for example. The fault lay with a large framed lithograph my parents received as a wedding gift that depicted a rather glamorous long-haired, bearded and berobed Jesus sitting in the Garden of Gethsemane, all executed in shades of rich plum. I have a Catholic friend similarly misinformed and actually traumatized by a similarly pretty and romantic European vision of Jesus, only with his chest ripped open to display His sacred heart.

Out of deference to the givers, my parents displayed that picture on a living room wall when I was very small, then transferred it to a bedroom and finally to the storeroom, where it reposed until my mother dispatched it to an undisclosed location (she never would tell).

As the years passed, I saw other depictions --- all similar to the wedding gift version, similarly pretty with European features --- but without the purple skin. Someone finally broke the news that we hadn’t a clue as to what Jesus really looked like, other than the facts He probably resembled other raggedy, poor orthodox Jews of his time and place but had a commanding enough physical presence to facilitate his efforts to draw a crowd. I’ve since seen Jesus portrayed as black, as Asian and even with a cigarette and beer in hand. Again, I doubt Jesus minds.

And it’s possible to understand, beyond the “own image” factor, why some might suggest Jesus was gay --- a single man in his 30s who associated for the most part with other men, but occasionally in a respectful, non-sexual way with strong women. But if you think it through and contrast the way it was then with the way it is now, it becomes evident that this theory is as unlikely as the competing heterosexual proposal that Jesus married (perhaps Mary Magdalene) and had children. That old notion got its most recent airing in the wildly popular “Da Vinci Code.”

And so it goes. We have a terrible time with the nature of Jesus, which as Christians we confess is both fully human and fully divine --- not dual, but fused. Nonplussed by the vision of our Saviour taking a leak among the bushes along the road to Jerusalem, we want a Jesus fully divine who understands the human condition but who floats above it and certainly never was troubled by an overflowing bladder. And that misses the point. It’s also useful to remember we serve a risen Savior, and not one stuck somewhere in the clouds 2,000 years ago or so, still dressed in sandals and robes.

Interesting stuff to think about. My Jesus is neither obviously heterosexual or homosexual, but does wear bluejeans and, since this is southern Iowa, Carhart and now and then cowboy boots even though he has neither a horse nor a cow and wouldn’t know what to do with either if one or the other appeared.

Good guys finish first; finding the Buddha

Stayed up past my bed time again last night to watch Evan Lysacek skate flawlessly to Olympic gold, proving that at least sometimes the good guy does finish first. It wasn’t luck --- as commentators pointed out many times, Lysacek had probably worked the hardest of all the competitors to perfect his technique and routine.

It became a slightly guilty pleasure to watch Russian Yevgeny Plushenko lose. Ordinarily you’d want to feel a little compassion for the old man (age 27, I believe, as compared to Lysacek’s 24), but he behaved so badly that his humiliation became a positive joy to behold.

It was obvious even to an uneducated observer like me that Plushenko had neglected the details of his routine, resulting in sloppiness, and was remarkably overconfident. Pride goeth before, ya know. And after the event, all he had to say were snarky things about Lysacek in particular and about all male skaters unwilling to undertake his almighty quad in general.

Lysacek came across as joyful and as humble as the top male skater in the world at the moment could possibly be expected to be --- acknowledging his family and friends and fans, but especially his coaches. I hope he’s as classy an act as he seems to be.

It’s interesting to watch the Olympic “losers” become winners by letting loose of their frustrations and disappointments when things don’t work and being happy for the medalists. That’s a big part of the real Olympic spirit. Too bad Plushenko turned out to be the sore-loser exception.

+++

At the other end of the sports spectrum today we had the spectacle of Tiger Woods apologizing for his sexual escapades during a public appearance down in Florida. I tried not to watch, but was dragged there anyway while awaiting a weather report during the noon news.

You’ve got to give the guy some credit for the course he’s taken since his enthusiastic sexual exploits became public, withdrawing for therapy and thought. He was operating in an area where it seems likely a majority of his fans, males at least, were as envious as outraged or just didn't care, so he easily could have ploughed ahead, taken his lumps on the family front, kept competing and it would all have blown over eventually. But he didn’t.

Most sinners on the celebrity circuit find Jesus, but Tiger has found the Buddha (not that surprising; his mother is Thai) and I thought that especially refreshing.

+++

Marilyn invited me to run down to the Pioneer Trails Museum at Corydon with her Thursday to do some consulting about issues at the museum in Chariton --- and also to do a little snooping, since most major museum projects are undertaken during the winter off-season when few guests are present and it’s interesting to see what others are up to. We found Brenda, the director, and Bill, a board member and friend, painting walls in what will become a tribute to the Wayne Theater, still operating up on the square.

When all is said and done, old seats from the uptown theater will have been installed, vintage projection equipment installed as a display piece only, the huge popcorn machine tucked away in its own corner, a color scheme matching the Wayne’s pastel hues added and Pioneer Trails will have a small functioning theater where films can be shown (using modern equipment) and small meetings held.

This is taking place in the museum’s vast northwest gallery, virtually emptied several years ago when ag-related displays and equipment were moved to a newly-constructed barn next door. Since then, it’s been worth regular visits just to see the succession of excellent displays as they are installed.

My favorite is the fire station in the northwest corner of the gallery, which incorporates a full-size photo-on-vinyl replica of the WPA mural installed when the Corydon post office was built. It’s in the fire station display because the mural depicts Corydon volunteer firefighters battling a house fire using the vintage fire engine that now sits in front of the reproduced mural in the museum. The mural itself is a lovely piece of work in a 1930s Grant-Woodish style featuring the facades of several well-known Corydon homes as well as a lively assortment of firefighters and onlookers.

This gallery also has become a venue for public events that draws rave reviews, including last fall’s Wayne County Hospital rededication gala and the more recent Christmas tree and gingerbread house contest and display.

So it was a worthwhile visit on two fronts --- a useful visit with Brenda and a hands-on update of what will be new next season at the museum. Pioneer Trails, as I’ve probably written before, is THE class act among Iowa’s rural historical society museums.

+++

Our three-day allotment of sunshine has expired and it’s snowing heavily. I’ve filled the bird feeders, sworn at the squirrel that tipped one of them, dusted off the snow shovel and here we go again.

High-flyers

Now into our second consecutive day of sunshine but with more snow in the forecast, it doesn’t do any harm to point out the advantage of all that white stuff for those of us who watch and feed the birds. Nothing like a good snow to bring them in droves to the feeders.

The tree from which feeders hang looked as if it had been decorated by nature for Christmas when I turned into the drive as snow fell Sunday after church. After getting inside, I stood at the kitchen window as the congregation regrouped and counted three pair of cardinals, three red-bellied woodpeckers, four bluejays and a couple of white-breasted nuthatches in addition to the more numerous juncos, chickadees, goldfinches and assorted sparrows.

The seed feeder is not designed for those long and lean woodpeckers, so watching them adjust themselves into sidesaddle position with tail providing extra support before digging in is a good show, too.

I swiped the cardinal photo from elsewhere on the Web, by the way. My camera is not designed for wildlife photography.

+++

In the Iowa goes to hell in a handbasket department, it now appears that our leading candidates for governor are a pair of losers. The most recent Iowa Poll (a Des Moines Register media event) shows Democrat incumbent Chet Culver with an approval rating of 34 percent --- lowest in polling history for a governor. Republican favorite and former Gov. Terry Branstad, while in office years ago, had the second-lowest rating (in far better economic times) --- 37 percent.

Granted, “approval rating” does not necessarily reflect competence, but you’ve got to wonder.

Wouldn’t it be interesting if all the declared candidates from both parties could be made to disappear and a fresh crop of candidates with less baggage found? Never happen.

+++

It’s going to be a great day for Team USA Olympic junkies --- the highly-hyped Lindsey Vonn in the downhill, Shaun White in the halfpipe and Shani Davis in the men’s 1000-meter. A triple-gold day? We’ll see.

The fascinating thing about the Olympics is how true they are to life --- a slight slip, a moment of inattention, an unexpected flaw in the course can bring disaster after years of preparation and meticulous attention to training. Take Lindsey Jacobellis in yesterday’s women’s snowboard cross, for example, who fell short of redemption.

+++

I’m a big fan of figure skating events. Surely the pairs must be the most challenging since partners have to focus both on their own performances and those of their partners. That must require incredible concentration and can result in wonderful displays of teamwork. On the other hand, this year’s short and long programs seemed to include an unusual number of slips and falls.

It was fun to see Team USA’s Evan Lysacek wow the crowd with a combination of artistry and technical precision to come within a fraction of a point of the favorite, that evil Russian Evgeni Plushenko, heavily reliant on athleticism in last night's short program.

Swiss Stephane Lambeil was the most fun to watch, I thought, even though difficulty with a jump cost him points. I’ve never seen anyone else come close to his level of perfection on footwork and spins.


An added bonus in the sporting end of figure skating for those of us who amuse easily is watching the subtle and not-so-subtle whiffs of homophobia emerge among commentators (the fact that male figure skaters wear costumes rather than uniforms and are expected to interpret the music they are skating to contribute to the underlying assumption that real men don’t dance on ice and so therefore all male figure skaters are queer). That of course is not true. Some are but most probably aren’t, as in all other sports.

Even macho-man Matt and sidekick Meredith had a “be-nice” and “aw-shucks” moment Wednesday morning on “Today” about the feathers on Lysacek’s costume (he was skating to Stravinsky’s “Firebird,” hence the feathers). Earlier, in a feature on Lysacek, an aging NBC News icon who should have known better dredged up the gay factor and made a special point of emphasizing the skater’s “carefully cultivated” masculine image. Golly, you know guys, he really could be straight.


And Tuesday night, as flamboyant and outspoken Johnny Weir skated a technically proficient although slightly uninspired program, the commentators spent most of their time discussing his flamboyance and outspokenness rather than his skill, which they finally acknowledged somewhat grudgingly was OK. Weir has a big mouth and can be remarkably offensive and carefully cultivates a gay image. Wouldn’t it be a hoot if he were straight, too?

And so it goes.

+++

Here it is, Ash Wednesday. I’ve promised to bake bread, since we’ll be sharing soup after this evening’s service. I’ve cheated and bought frozen dough. Want to make something of it?

On a positive note, some of our snow is beginning to melt, which is good. Three of us arrived in separate vehicles at the museum this morning and without paying attention drove into the long circle drive around the Stevens House from opposite ends, resulting in an impasse. The lane is only one vehicle wide and with banked snow on either side, there's no place to pull off. Fortunately, the guy who drove in from the south is an experienced driver (and backer) of trucks, who cleared the way forward for those of who back less joyfully when lunch time came.

Hallelujah!

The incomparable k.d. lang’s performance of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” was another aspect of Olympic opening ceremonies that blew me away Friday night. What a song, a meditation based upon the Old Testament story of David and Bathsheba, and what a performance!

The Youtube version above is obviously not from the Olympics, but an earlier performance by k.d. at the Juno Awards during 2006 in Winnipeg, but you’ll get the idea. The Juno Awards are an annual celebration of Canadian musicians and music.

K.d, is a native of the Canadian prairie and both a gay rights and animal rights activist (as well as a militant vegetarian) --- factors that have been used against her --- and Cohen, a Canadian composer and performer.



The first Cohen song that became a part of my life was “Suzanne,” performed above not that long ago by Judy Collins, although the version we listened to way back when was recorded by her in the 1960s. Hearing it takes me back to smoky, boozy places in Saigon and those I ran with then --- war-induced loneliness, homesickness, regret and longing. Powerful then and now, at least for me.

And the third in this trinity of Cohen songs, “Bird on a Wire.” The version here, not the best graphically, features Willie Nelson’s perfect voice and interpretation.

Chuc Mung Nam Moi!

Or happy new year --- lunar new year that is. In Vietnam, and the greeting here is in Vietnamese, it is called Tet; in other cultures, largely Buddhist, other things. If you’re a speaker of Mandarin, the appropriate greeting is “Gung Hay Fat Choi!” which in general means “may you have great happiness and prosperity.” If you’re going to use “Gung Hay Fat Choi!” try repeating it three times, each time with a respectful bow, to incorporate the past, the present and the future.

This is the eve of Tet 2010 and Sunday, the first day of celebration, although like the western new year, festivities generally begin the night before.

A principal pleasure of my time in Vietnam was the fact that my job and its setting involved being a rare American in a sea of Vietnamese civilians, some of whom became close friends. I was invited to celebrate Tet once among friends in those uncertain and ultimately disastrous times and still remember the joy of it and have tried since to keep track of Tet when it rolls around.

This will be the Year of the Tiger, an auspicious symbol in troublesome times offering courage and inviting bold action and risk-taking. We’ll see how that works out.

+++

There’s a lot of joy converging around this sorrowful old world this weekend --- a perfect storm as someone put it this morning. The Chinese new year (Tet) in its various incarnations for one; Valentine’s Day for another --- a rare celebration of human love romantic and otherwise. Festivities leading up to Mardi Gras (or Fat Tuesday) next week are under way in various places, a celebration of joyful excess before Ash Wednesday and the austere and penitential season of Lent.

+++

And then the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver and nearby venues. I stayed up past my bedtime last night to watch the entire opening ceremony plus lighting of not one but two Olympic torches.

The ceremony was spectacular, I thought, but then I’m easily amused by bright and shiny stuff. The prominent place given to First Nations people --- welcome from the peoples in whose territory Vancouver and other venues are located then introduction of the First Nations of the northwest, north, northeast and prairie. Talk about athletes. Those guys and gals danced nonstop throughout the long parade of nations and still had plenty of energy left for a fairly spectacular show introducing the cultural part of the program. I loved the Celtic fiddles and dancing and the young man who flew above the prairie was incredibly graceful and other-worldly. The tragic death earlier in the day of a Georgian athlete was handled beautifully. It was the sort of thing that makes you proud to be a neighbor of Canadians, First Nations and otherwise.

I’m a hopeless fan of the Olympics, summer and winter, unusual for someone who is not in any other way a sports fan, so I’ll be spending quite a bit of time in front of the television for the next couple of weeks. Once every four years, at least, it seems that there’s still hope for the world and its people.

Cemetery Walk No. 4: Traveling Bones

It’s often possible to date a cemetery fairly accurately by locating the earliest year of death on a tombstone within it, but anyone who tries that at the Chariton Cemetery is going to be misled.

That’s in part because the first burials at Chariton occurred during the late 1840s and early 1850s at Douglass Cemetery, southeast of town along the Blue Grass Road, and in a small cemetery located at the current site of Columbus School, half a block from where I’m typing now.

The current Chariton Cemetery dates from June of 1864 when 19 investors organized the Chariton Cemetery Co. Soon thereafter all graves were moved to the new cemetery from the Columbus School site and families began to transfer bodies from Douglass, a process that continued for many years. In many instances, tombstones accompanied remains and now are scattered across older portions of the newer cemetery.

The oldest bones (if dated from year of death) buried in the Chariton Cemetery, however, traveled considerably farther. They are those of Leonard Gibbon, a newspaper editor shot dead in the streets of Smithland, Kentucky, in 1844, two days shy of his 33rd birthday, by an angry reader. That was two years before the first permanent white settlers arrived in Lucas County.

While we often become angry these days at newspaper editors, we rarely shoot them. So Leonard’s death and postmortem travels make for an interesting story.

+++

Leonard was born Sept. 12, 1811, in New Jersey, where his ancestors had settled during the 18th century, one of 11 children of Leonard Sr. and Rachel (Keasby) Gibbon. Leonard Jr. had an elder brother, Mason Seeley Gibbon (married Mary Brooks), whose son, William Henry Gibbon, a pioneer Chariton physician, also will have a part in this story.

Leonard Jr. launched a career as a newspaperman that took him west into Ohio and Kentucky and prior to 1837 he married Sarah Ardery. They had one child, Laura R., born Oct. 28, 1837, in Cincinnati, according to her obituary (The Chariton Patriot, Dec. 30, 1915).

From Cincinnati, the Gibbons moved to Louisville, Kentucky, where he was editor of the Louisville Dime, and then ca. 1844 to Smithland, Kentucky, where he became the editor and publisher of the Smithland Bee.

Brenda Joyce Jerome picks up the story at this point in an Oct. 2, 2008, posting to her excellent local history blog, Western Kentucky Genealogical Blog (http://wkygenealogy.blogspot.com). If you wish to read her account in its original setting go here. Otherwise, continue:

"James K. Polk of Tennessee, a Democrat, and his running mate, George M. Dallas, were engaged in a close battle for president and vice president of the United States in 1844. Running against Polk and Dallas were Henry Clay and his running mate, Theodore Frelinghuysen, Whigs. The big issue was the annexation of Texas and a claim to the whole of Oregon. The Democrats favored it --- the Whigs did not. These issues were hotly debated, even in small towns of western Kentucky. Those who opposed the annexation of Texas feared Kentuckians would all migrate to the new state.

"Leonard Gibbon and his wife, Sarah, and daughter left their home in Louisville, where Gibbon had been editor of the Louisville Dime, and settled in Smithland, Kentucky, where he planned to publish the Smithland Bee, a Whig newspaper. They arrived in Smithland by July of 1844 --- right in the middle of the presidential campaign --- and settled in to start a new life, with Gibbon signing several promissory notes and mortgaging the printing press and equipment in order to acquire money to print the Bee.

"Said to have been a mild, peaceable, quiet and inoffensive man, Gibbon, nevertheless, voiced --- perhaps recklessly --- his opinions of the presidential candidate favored by the Democrats. His comments offended at least one reader --- Dr. Samuel C. Snyder, another recent arrival in Smithland. Not long after the article appeared in the Bee, Dr. Snyder happened to meet Gibbon walking down the street, holding the hand of his little daughter. A fight took place, pistols were discharged and Leonard Gibbon fell dead in the street.

"The widow, Sarah Gibbon, was faced with no way to support herself and a young child to rear. Her only resource was the printing press and equipment. Sarah took another mortgage on the press and equipment and continued to operate the newspaper herself.

"In the meantime, Samuel Snyder had been arrested, placed in jail and was indicted for the murder of Leonard Gibbon. There was a change of venue to Crittenden County, where the evidence was heard on the 29-30 of April and 1 May 1845 by a jury composed of the following men: Mickelberry Bristow, Jeremiah Lucas, Alfred Moore, William Ditterline, Thomas H. Wallace, William Clement, Lewis Saxton, Conrod Crayne, Robert Hale, John W. Jenkings, James Fowler and William Molsber. On the 2nd day of May, after all the evidence had been heard, Snyder was led to the bar in custody of the jailor to await his sentence. Finally, it was announced. “We the jury find the prisoner Not Guilty!” Samuel C. Snyder was acquitted and left the court as a free man.

"Sarah Gibbon struggled on, trying to run the newspaper and care for her child. The last record of her in Livingston County was when she took out a mortgage in August in 1847. She also appeared on the 1847 Livingston County tax list with 1 town lot worth $50 and one child between the ages of 5 and 16. According to Through the Canebrake, a book on the Gibbon family and which fictionalizes the story of the murder in Smithland, Laura, the young child of Leonard Gibbon, was motherless when her father died and she went to live with relatives in Iowa.

"Samuel C. Snyder owned property in Smithland also, does not appear on the Livingston County tax lists after 1846.

"Even though Sarah B. Gibbon was still mortgaging the printing press and equipment as late as August 1847, a new editor had moved to Smithland. In September 1845, William Scott Haynes conveyed unto John W. Ross and Ezekiel Green all his right and title in the printing press, stands, types and all other fixtures belonging to the office of the Smithland Bee, his interest being an undivided interest in 3/4 of press, types, stands & fixtures belonging to said office. It was understood that Haynes had plans to print a newspaper called the Jackson Republican. I have three issues of the Jackson Republican from 1846 and was interested to see there was very little local news, but a fair amount of national news and quite a few advertisements for local businesses.

"A couple of things have been noticed while researching and writing these articles on the early residents and events of Smithland. There were a lot of doctors for a small town and there were a lot of murders. In at least two cases, the murders involved doctors."

The book “Through the Canebrake,” published in 2002 and cited by Jerome, was written by William McCollough, a descendant of Leonard’s and Sarah’s daughter, Laura. Sarah Gibbon, contrary to McCollough’s account, however, was very much alive and Laura did not arrive in Chariton until several years after her father’s murder.

At some point after 1847, Sarah Gibbon married another newspaperman, Carr Huntington, and by 1860 Carr, Sarah and Laura were living in Beaver Dam, Wisconsin, where he was editing the Beaver Dam Democrat, which he had established in 1858.

On the 4th of September, 1861, Leonard’s and Sarah’s daughter, Laura, then just short of her 24th birthday, married at Beaver Dam her first-cousin, William Henry Gibbon, son of Mason Seeley and Mary (Brooks) Gibbon, and they moved to Chariton. William had established his medical practice in Lucas County in 1858.

William Gibbon served as a surgeon during the Civil War and their only child, Anna, was born Dec. 5, 1864, while William was serving and Laura was visiting family in Cincinnati. They returned to Chariton after the war and settled down.
William established a drug store, too, and the building he erected to house it still stands at the northeast corner of the square. Just before his death in 1895, he and Laura built one of Chariton’s grandest homes on South Grand Street. It also survives in good repair although long since divided into apartments.

At some point prior to 1870, perhaps after the war, Carr and Sarah Huntington moved to Blue Earth, Minn., where he established another newspaper, the Bee.

I do not know what became of Carr Huntington, but suspect that he died at Blue Earth between 1885, when he was enumerated in a special Minnesota state census, and 1888, by which year Sarah Gibbon Huntington was living in Chariton with her daughter and son-in-law. She died at their home on September 11, 1888, and was buried in the Chariton Cemetery, the first grave on a family lot now containing nine.

At some point, and it is not clear from cemetery records when --- nor was any mention made of it in Chariton newspapers --- Leondard Gibbon’s body was removed from its first burial place, perhaps at Smithland, and reburied beside Sarah in the Chariton Cemetery, a considerable distance from where one would expect to find him.

His only grandchild, Anna, married twice in Chariton, first to Ralph F. McCollough and following his death, to Josiah C. Copeland. The Gibbons, the McColloughs and the Copelands all were among Chariton’s wealthiest and most influential citizens although by now, as tends to happen, all have vanished and few current Chariton residents would recognize their names.

Because of their prominence, the Gibbons are featured in various county histories and biographical compilations of their time. Upon death, lengthy obituaries were published. But the passing of Sarah Gibbon Huntington was noted only briefly in 1888 and no mention ever is made of Leonard, her first husband, Laura’s father and William’s uncle. Nor is it possible to discover from material available in Lucas County that William H. and Laura Gibbon were first-cousins as well as husband and wife.

The snow’s a little too deep right now for a visit to the Gibbon graves, but come spring you’ll find them in the northwest corner of the Chariton Cemetery. Enter the main gates and drive west until the long straight drive curves south. The Gibbon-Copeland lot will be on your left. The lot contains three rows of graves marked by individual stones and a massive gray granite monument inscribed “Gibbon” on one side and “Copeland” on the other.

The Gibbons are buried in the row the greatest distance from the driveway, from north to south as follows:

SARAH GIBBON
HUNTINGTON
OCTOBER 6, 1813
SEPTEMBER 11, 1888

LEONARD GIBBON
SEPTEMBER 12, 1811
SEPTEMBER 10, 1844


LAURA R. GIBBON
OCTOBER 28, 1837
DECEMBER 24, 1915


WILLIAM HENRY GIBBON
SURGEON
15TH IOWA VOLUNTEERS
JANUARY 31, 1832
OCTOBER 2, 1895

For more information on the graves of Anna (Gibbon) McCollough, her two husbands, a son and a grandson, click here.

A death in the (Lucas County) family

Law enforcement officials (trailing Des Moines Register reporters by a few hours) have identified the victim of a fatal shooting that occurred just east of Chariton early last evening as Todd Peek, 37, shot in the chest by his 12-year-old stepson, Jacen Pearson. Five-year-old Cheyanne Peek, in the house with her mother, Sarah Peek, and another sister when the shooting occurred, somehow sustained a leg wound and remains hospitalized. Jacen, who reportedly ran from the house after the shooting and was found nearby a half hour later, is in custody in Des Moines, but has not been charged.

So this sad event has been the major topic of conversation around town today and many details remain unknown. The Register, which does an excellent job of covering small-town disasters but rarely pays any attention to us on the good days, is reporting two instances of alleged domestic abuse involving Todd Peek. Sarah Peek made the call in October of 2006 and abuse charges were filed against Todd, but later dropped. Jacen placed the call in 2008, but no charges were filed. So there’s an implication here, but no facts at least yet to back it.

It’s odd how many of us don’t know of each other any more in a place that is as sparsely populated as Lucas County. I’ve heard the name “Peek” but can’t place the family. I do know the neighborhood where they live, a quiet gravel route that with U.S. Highway 34 closing the “U” on the north forms a half-section loop just south of the airport.

Visiting this afternoon with a retired educator and former Chariton mayor who at one time “knew everybody,” it turned out he hadn’t heard of the family either. Neither had the third party involved in that conversation, also widely acquainted. Perhaps some of it has to do with age, but it does seem as if the ties that once bound rural places and the people who live in them together have become badly frayed.

There haven’t been that many killings in Lucas County as the years have passed. My cousin, the other Frank, in writing a new county history was able to confine the victims to one chapter. But I’m accustomed to knowing the victims --- an elderly acquaintance of my parents killed because an intruder thought he was rich (he wasn’t), the son of one of my dad’s close friends shot after a testosterone-fueled dispute, the young niece of a high school classmate inexplicably murdered by an equally young friend and most recently, a distant cousin shot down near Marshalltown with a companion by her estranged husband whom they were fleeing.

Known or not, all have been and continue to be heart-breaking and this latest killing is especially dreadful because children were involved. Pray for them, count your blessings if, like me, you were raised in a home where voices were rarely raised and violence was unknown and if tempted to violence, knock the temptation --- not the person --- down.

Legislative lightweights and gay marriage

Iowa’s Republican lawmakers failed Tuesday in procedural efforts that would have brought a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage before the Legislature for debate this term.

This means, providing the issue remains a legislative one, a possible public vote on such an amendment, if passed by the Legislature as required during two consecutive sessions, still requires a GOP legislative majority and remains several years down the road.

So for the time being, gay men and lesbians can continue to marry at will in Iowa. I need be in no hurry to announce my engagement or order invitations.

Since the Democrat majority in both the House and Senate already had made it perfectly clear that the amendment would not be considered this year, Tuesday’s maneuvering was a GOP stunt.

Republicans know full well that if a vote on such an amendment could be held this fall, in all likelihood it would pass. This has nothing in particular to do with a bigoted majority, merely that many Iowans who bear gays and lesbians no ill will still are not comfortable with same-sex marriage, feel civil union are more appropriate or some combination of the above. Add this fluid group to the hard-line anti-gay minority and you have a majority.

Republicans also know that as time passes what seemed novel at first comes to seem ordinary, so the more time that passes the less likely success.

None of the horrors predicted by the GOP and its allegedly Christian allies after the April 2009 court decision that legalized gay marriage have developed. Most of the same-sex marriages that have occurred involved ordinary people, most of whom had been in committed relationships for years. Although some out-of-state couples have come here to marry, the numbers have been insufficient to bail out the state economy.

The majority of Iowans, too, seem remarkably unconcerned about the issue. A weekend Des Moines Register Iowa Poll, for example, found that roughly 62 percent did not consider gay marriage an issue worth legislative time. Poll participants were more concerned with texting while driving, puppy mills and other issues.

+++

Republicans dd not help themselves in this effort by allowing jackasses like Rep. Jason Schultz, Schleswig, and Matt Windschill, Missouri Valley, off their leashes to target Iowa kids.

These two great minds proposed a bill that would have removed language from Iowa’s Safe Schools Act that protects gay, lesbian and transgender students from bullying in public schools.

According to Schultz, the two meant no harm to gay or transgender youngsters, merely wanted to spur debate on gay marriage. He argued such language wasn’t needed since school administrators already were protecting students. But curiously the dynamic duo did not propos removing language that protects heterosexual students or rescinding the Safe Schools Act entirely.

+++

So Republican lawmakers, including Chariton’s own Paul McKinley, now are encouraging Iowans to vote “yes” to a constitutional convention, a ballot question that automatically appears on the state’s general election ballot every 10 years. The reasoning is, the convention could pass an amendment banning gay marriage that could go to voters much sooner, say in 2011.

The difficulty is, a constitutional convention involves far more than a bunch of anti-gay-marriage activists getting together, forging an amendment they like, then going home and waiting for the election.

If a convention is called, the entire constitution is opened for amendment (although not to rewriting). Each amendment that emerged would be voted upon separately.

The Legislature would have to come up with a way to select representative delegates to the convention from across the state that could withstand court challenge in order to be legitimate. Since urban areas have gained and continue to gain rapidly in proportional representative strength, such a convention automatically would be pro-urban and anti-rural.

All sorts of interesting amendments are possible --- combining Iowa counties, for example, to promote more efficient administration (goodbye to those courthouses in or near 99 county seat squares), statewide zoning to squeeze livestock confinement operations out of existence, mandatory consolidation of school districts into let’s say county units, redirecting road funds from rural areas to city streets, etc. There’s not even any guarantee delegates would approve an anti-gay-marriage amendment.

Sounds like it could be fun and it certainly would be interesting to watch the dust fly. But I’m not sure we can afford that kind of entertainment.

Fire and ice

Brilliantly clear and cold here at first this morning, clouds have arrived and light snow is falling again --- although not in the forecast. It's been a perfect morning if you don't mind below-zero temperatures. Not sure what the overnight low was, but it's minus-4 now.

Headed out to shovel the drive again (did that three times yesterday to avoid packing snow when driving over it), I counted layers. Two of socks (one wool-blend and the other cotton), insulated pants (but no long underwear since I didn't plan to be out for long), three layers of shirt topped off by my warmest winter coat, a knit cap and gloves advertised as ideal for these temps. Everything worked except the new-fangled globes, so came back in and got an old lined leather pair that worked just fine.

One of the frustrations of winter life is devoting all that time to bundling up, then discover once outside shoveling that you've forgotten to take your glasses off and blind yourself with every breath.

The dark-eyed juncos along with goldfinches (who prefer the thistle seed feeder) kept me company. They're my most loyal customers at the feeders, although the juncos are ground feeders by nature and while they'll experiment with thistle seed and the seed feeder prefer to scratch around on the sidewalk, where I feed them.

Other visitors this morning have included red-bellied woodpeckers, an extremely calm mourning dove, white-breasted nuthatches and the usual dive-bombing bluejays and cardinals.

According to my favorite bird book (Stan Tekiela's "Birds of Iowa") dark-eyed juncos are Canadian snowbirds who head south to Iowa for the winter (actually, according to the book, female juncos head farther south; I've only noticed one or two females among the flocks of males here). They're fun to watch, always squabbling, and feed now matter how bad the weather.

No school here today and both of my meetings canceled. So it looks like it's going to be just me and the birds.

Books and birds

Books are on the move here again, hopefully into some degree of order. Not that I mind disorder --- until the need to find a book arises and after an hour of wasted time searching it turns up in the row I’d forgotten about concealed behind a modest display of pottery and the DVD player at the back of low twin tables that support the television. Then there are the double rows of books, one behind the other, in the big bookcases upstairs. Under everything here there is something else, usually a book. There’s got to be a better way.

There are thousands of books in this small house, but whether it’s a couple of thousand or a few thousand I can’t say, never having counted. Many more were given away when I merged houses, mostly contemporary autobiography. It’s astonishing how many dull people of modest accomplishment at best find a publisher (or are found by one); more astonishing that I’ve thought some interesting enough at times to buy.

Acquiring all these books is based upon two tenets of faith: (1.) The answer to everything is somewhere --- in a book; and (2) one day the plug will be pulled on the power grid, disabling all things electronic. But with daylight and firelight, I’ll still be able to read. And yes, I do re-read books; that’s why I have them.

There are those who argue there’s no need to acquire books because libraries have them. Think again. There are so many books and public libraries are under so much pressure to be trendy that massive deaccession drives, usually at least annual, are par for the library course nowadays. I’ve watched my life in literature sold for nickels and dimes, for example, as the Chariton library’s annual sales.

Some of this is necessary, of course, and many will be retained somewhere, available through interlibrary loan. But when the lights go out, interlibrary loan isn’t going to work very effectively either.

+++

The best show in the neighborhood this week has involved a squirrel determined to sample the contents of the seed bird feeder hanging across the sidewalk from my kitchen window --- a plastic device suspended from the tree by a short loop of cable and selected in part because squirrels can’t get a foothold on it.

Most of the squirrels have been happy among the sunflower seeds and corn on the ground near the feeder, but one was determined and after a lot of thought and a few experiments discovered it could skitter down the flimsy branch from which the feeder hangs, hang by its back feet from the branch, brace against the feeder and just barely get its nose into the seed tray. By the time it got tired of hanging enough seed has been knocked loose to make it worth while to drop to the ground and clean it up.

That’s one smart squirrel. Maybe he should run for political office.

The window over the kitchen sink offers the best view of the feeders and since I'm fascinated by the antics of the birds and squirrels this means I'm actually getting the dishes done in a timely manner these days. I don't mind cooking; hate cleaning up after myself.

Today's count included the usual suspects --- goldfinches, dark-eyed juncos, house finches, cardinals, bluejays, a flock of starlings (dispersed rapidly by an angry squirrel protecting its turf) plus downy woodpeckers. Bluejays rule the roost, of course, sending even the larger squirrels skittering up the tree.

+++

The trains are running again on the Burlington Northern & Santa Fe tracks and have been since Sunday, but work continues on rebuilding the stretch of line from the Court Avenue overpass north to the crossing where the derailment ended early last Saturday. I don’t envy the workers, dealing with the cold and the snow and dodging trains on these busy tracks.

We’ve had so many storms that in any other year would be memorable that this year, they aren’t. It all runs together. I believe it was Monday that the surprise, unpredicted blizzard arrived, more or less paralyzing traffic flow across the state. Another system moved in Friday, but temperatures remained moderate so there were few problems. Another storm is anticipated overnight Sunday.

It's nice to sit by the television and watch footage of blizzards somewhere else --- this weekend in the Mid-Atlantic states.

I ran out to the church at 5 p.m. yesterday to light the “big six” candles that march across the top of the altar in preparation for a 6 p.m. wedding, another nail-biter of an event because of weather conditions. Why do people with the time to plan weddings months in advance plan them for winter in this part of the country? At least it worked out this time.

The big six, although grand and beautiful, are so tall and so high off the ground that wedding acolytes, any acolyte for that matter, can’t deal with them. I’d planned to do the lighting without an audience, but failed to anticipate the fact wedding photos were running about 45 minutes behind schedule. So perhaps 30 were present as I elegantly pulled out the parish cigarette lighter, hauled the sticks down off the altar, lighted the candles and put them back. Quite a performance, but I was glad to do my bit to entertain the wedding party.