The Redlingshafer barn

John G. and Isabelle Redlingshafer's barn.

My record as a photographer of endangered landmarks is fairly dismal. I look at an old building, think "yea, that's not always going to be there and I should take a picture," then don't." It's happened again, this time down in Benton Township to old Mt. Carmel Church. It doesn't do much good to get mad at the windstorm that knocked it down, so I'll be mad at myself --- and try to do better.

My cousin, Keith, told me about the church yesterday when he stopped at the museum and we got to talking about a whole lot of things. His mom was the late and much lamented Rose Marie, a Myers cousin, and talking to him is a lot like talking to her, and that's really neat. Keith's dad, David, also is a cousin, on the Miller end of things. And there's actually another family connection, too, but if I tried to explain that one, you'd just get dizzy. It's the way things sometimes work out in Lucas County. Keith is a Redlingshafer descendant, too --- twice.

His grandparents, Walter and Edna Relph, moved the old Mt. Carmel building (built in 1882) many years ago from its original location on the old Daniel Myers Sr. farm after it had been closed and abandoned for a long time and the church lot was sold out from underneath it. Daniel Myers Sr. was Edna's grandfather and my great-grandfather; Keith's great-great-grandfather.

So old Mt. Carmel was hauled around the corner northeast, across the Chariton River and to a hilltop on the Relph farm, which Keith now owns, where it stood minding its own business until that big wind came along.

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But instead of focusing on one of my failures, I'll talk a little about a landmark I actually worked up enough energy quite a few years ago to take a photo of before it was torn down --- John and Isabelle Redlingshafer's old barn at the top here, also in Benton Township.

If you click and enlarge this map from 1896, you can see where the barn once stood. Look in Section 20 and at the little black dot in the upper right hand corner of the 80-acre tract labeled "John G. Redlingshafer." You'll find Mt. Carmel Church in Section 27 if you care to look that way.

John, born during 1827 in Bavaria, came to Pennsylvania with his parents and seven siblings during 1848. He first came to Lucas County during 1856, scouting out the land perhaps at the behest of Risbeck cousins who had arrived somewhat earlier.

John liked what he saw and returned to Pennsylvania to marry Isabelle Greer that fall. During the late winter of 1856-57, they traveled by river from Pennsylvania to Burlington via St. Louis and then by train to Mt. Pleasant where they purchased a team of horses and a wagon for the overland trek to Lucas County. They arrived here in March and purchased the first 40 acres of the Section 20 farm where a log cabin already had been built.

That cabin was located a considerable distance south of where the barn and a new house eventually were built, near a spring. Their nearest neighbors were just down over the hill in the Wolf Creek valley.

When the time came to build a new house --- and its not clear when that was --- they decided to build an entirely new farmstead, including the barn, alongside the road that by that time had developed along section lines to the north to connect what now is Highway 14 and the New York Road.

Here is a photograph of John and Isabelle with Mary Maxwell, a granddaughter they raised. They probably had lived for some years in the new house when this photo was taken.

And here's the house itself, taken not long after 1894, when Isabelle died. John is seated in the rocking chair at left with Mary Maxwell standing behind him. His son, Greer, is seated to the right. Standing are Greer's wife, Fannie Augusta Arnold, and their first child, Carrie Sophia (Havner).

By this time, John and Isabelle had purchased more land and  the neighborhood had become Redlingshafer territory. John's brother, George, arrived a couple of years after 1857 and by the 1890s owned all the land on the south side of the road east of John and Isabelle --- across the Wolf Creek valley and up the hills to the New York Road. Their sister, Anna Margaret (Redlingshafer) Rosa/Wulf acquired the land west of John and Isabelle after the death in Chariton during 1867 of her first husband, John Rosa (she subsequently married Joachim Wulf). Another sister, Margaret Anna (Redlingshafer) Hupp and her husband, Aaron, lived just around the corner along the New York Road south of George.

Greer and Augusta (Arnold) Redlingshafer's wedding portrait.

Several years after Isabelle's 1894 death, John and granddaughter Mary moved into Chariton and son Greer and his family acquired the home place. He had built a new home for his family across the road north of his parents' home, however, so the old house was taken down.

As long as Greer and Augusta lived on the farm,  the old barn remained in use. By the time this photo of the barn was taken, the land south of the road had been sold at least three times since Greer and Augusta moved to town and the newest, and current, owners had no use for the old building and it was taken down.

So that's the story of the old Redlingshafer barn, so far as I know it. If I were taking its picture now, I would have photographed it from every possible angle and probably even tried to sneak inside to take a few more.

But let my Mt. Carmel lesson be one to you, too. If you've been thinking about photographing a landmark, family or otherwise, that you know isn't going to be there for ever --- go do it. Now. Well, actually you can wait until the sun comes up.

A.T. Andreas and his magnificent atlas

I spotted the latest framed Chariton page from Alfred Theodore Andreas’s magnum opus, the 1875 “Illustrated Historical Atlas of the State of Iowa,” leaning against the wall in an office during a meeting up on the square last week.

The owner told us he had received the page from his brother, who had found it in an antiques shop. Now framed, it was headed for his office wall.

That’s the way most of us see parts of that mighty atlas these days. Its pages sold separately tend to be worth more than the bound total. And I’m not implying that there’s anything in particular wrong with that, although in a way it’s sad. But the atlas is not exactly endangered --- yet. And I’m grateful when someone from Lucas County rescues an orphaned Lucas County page.

The centerpiece of what I call the Chariton page is this amazing bird’s eye view of the town as it appeared during 1874 or 1875 drawn by an unknown artist. There was no aerial photography in 1874-75 remember, no Google maps to rely upon. Despite that, it is astonishingly accurate.

Roughly 23,000 copies of the vast 600-page Andreas atlas were printed in 1875. Almost 100 years later, in 1970,The State Historical Society of Iowa, captained at the time by William J. “Steamboat Bill” Petersen, issued 12,000 reproductions, reduced in size by a third (9 by 12 inches as opposed to 14 ½ by 17 ½).

I have a copy of the reproduction and use it at least once a week if not more often. The reproduction was mailed as a membership bonus to all 10,000 society members, but mine was purchased at a used book sale in Forest City in 1975 (I’d allowed my membership to lapse while in Vietnam). To heck with the Bible. If headed for a desert island, this is a book I’d take along.

The atlas was at the time and remains in some ways the most comprehensive reference ever compiled about Iowa. In addition to full-page maps of all 99 counties (some counties in less developed parts of the state were combined in double-page spreads), it contains 220 portraits of Iowans, 198 plats of Iowa cities and towns, 587 engravings of homes, farms, businesses and churches and a wealth of statistical and other data, including brief histories of all the counties.

It is estimated that a small army of 300 or more worked full-time for more than a year and a quarter to produce it, beginning in 1874 and concluding with publication, complete by July 1, 1875. The boots-on-the-ground troops consisted of artists, cartographers, writers and salesmen who blanketed the state. The support staff, in Chicago where the Andreas Atlas Co. was headquartered, consisted of more writers, editors, engravers, typesetter, printers and Andreas himself, editor in chief.

Field troops approached the state methodically, and as soon as one section of it had been completely canvassed, information gathered, maps compiled and portraits and scenes drawn, production work began in Chicago. Sections of the atlas were printed gradually as copy became available in signatures (groups of pages) which were assembled and bound at the end. This led to the only major glitch in the atlas --- a few problems with pagination because the number of pages in some sections of the atlas had to be reduced when sales did not meet expectations.

The atlas was sold on a subscription basis with payment due upon receipt. I don’t know what the subscription price was, but 206 Lucas Countyans ordered copies. Their names, places of residence, businesses, nativities, post offices and the dates they arrived in Iowa are listed in the Patron’s Directory.

The homes of rural patrons also were located on the county map. A patron could buy additional space in the atlas for an engraving of himself, his home, his farm, his horse --- just about anything --- if he cared to do so.

Once published, the atlas worked hard for a living. It became the standard reference concerning Iowa for many years in thousands of private and public offices and other businesses. That may be why so many of the atlases are not in the greatest of shape --- in constant use, the bindings broke, covers came off, pages were torn.

The atlas was a remarkable achievement at a time when there were no speedy forms of transportation and communication was slow, too. Data could not be transmitted instantly from Des Moines to Chicago, for example, by any means other than telegraph.

A.T. Andreas himself was a New York boy, born May 29, 1839, in Amity. He arrived in Dubuque in 1857, remaining there as a clerk and teacher until 1860, when he moved to Illinois to teach. After Civil War service from Illinois, he settled in Davenport where he married Sophia Lyter.

Not long after, he went to work in Illinois for a firm that produced massive county wall maps. Andreas had the bright idea of cutting these maps into township-size bites and binding township pages with pages of engravings and other printed material into the county atlases we’re now familiar with.

After going into business for himself as an atlas publisher, he published a few county atlases as well as a Minnesota state atlas (on which he lost money) before launching the mighty Illustrated Historical Atlas of Iowa.

He continued in this line of work for many years, publishing many other county and state atlases and histories, including the vast “History of the State of Kansas” by William G. Cutler; an equally vast history of Nebraska; and a three-volume history of Chicago.

Andreas was living temporarily at New Rochelle in Westchester County, New York, when he died at age 60 on Feb. 10, 1900. His body was returned to Davenport for burial in Oakdale Cemetery.

Nearly everyone interested in cartography or local history recognizes the name “Andreas.” Few think about the fact Alfred Theodore was behind it all. That’s something that deserves to be remembered.

Note: Steamboat Bill Petersen’s introduction to the 1970 reissue of the Andreas atlas was the source for most of the detailed information here.

Parsnips in the snow

That’s the title of a University of Iowa Press (Burr Oak) book about Midwest gardening and gardeners by Mary Swander and Jane Anne Staw. It’s here somewhere, but where?

I do have at hand the parsnips (photo above) and the ground outside is covered with snow again this morning, so the combination is appropriate. Turned on the porch light to take a look. Not much. Just enough to remind us that it’s still March and we’re still in Iowa.

These parsnips came from the grocery store, coated in wax to keep them from drying out. But I cooked them the same way my mother did --- peeled, cut into halves or quarters depending upon size, parboiled, drained and then fried lightly in butter. The sweet taste is incomparable.

My mother’s parsnips for many years would have come from a trench in the garden. Because frost and cold enhance the flavor of parsnips, they were generally dug late in the fall but before the ground froze, placed in a trench, then covered with gunnysacks, a layer of hay or straw and loose dirt --- then retrieved and brought in as needed during the winter.

As a rule this worked, although I do recall that one winter --- a snowy one --- Mother lost track of the location of her parsnip trench --- until spring plowing, which was too late.

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I sometimes wonder if I could feed myself if necessary --- especially when considering the troubled times and the escalating cost of everything down at HyVee. Perhaps, although the investment in time and canning supplies would be substantial.

In all likelihood, I’d have to become a vegetarian. The bloody array in the meat case seems relatively benign; we’ve just forgotten about the grim processes required to get it there.

I like chickens, so probably could manage egg production. But turning a live chicken into dead meat is not something I’d enjoy. My mother thought nothing of it --- first the capture, then pull off the heads with a strategically placed stick held in place by both feet and mighty jerk, watch the critters flop for a while spewing blood, then scald the carcass with boilng water, pluck it, gut it, cut it into the pieces we all recognize in the freezer case. That’s a little too up close and personal for my 21st century taste.

The processes required to produce cuts of beef and pork were (and still are in places we don’t visit) equally grim --- on the farm at least involving rifles or sledgehammers, cut throats, scalding water (for hogs), sharp knives, etc. I only remember this process vaguely. For the most part, we loaded the doomed critters up and delivered them to Steinbachs. They handled the slaughter and the processing, then quick-froze neatly packaged cuts and placed them in locker drawers to be retrieved as needed during trips to town.

It’s gotten entirely too easy to be carnivorous, but I’m glad it has. If I weren’t so darned lazy, however, I'd think seriously about becoming a vegetarian.

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Vegetables are something that I probably could manage although my current efforts involve only a couple of tomato plants, some peppers and a few herbs. The back 40 here is as big as the gentle slope south of the old farm house my mother cultivated as upper garden and lower garden. So space is not the issue.

Time is an issue, however, and we’ve gotten awfully lazy by now or preoccupied with other things. My mother worked constantly at this, from spring to fall --- planting, cultivating, harvesting, processing and canning (later freezing) or storing in some other manner.

We used a root cellar, or cave, for storage --- an underground brick vault where the temperature year-around was cool and stable located a few steps north of the kitchen door. Shelves along both long walls were lined with canned green beans, peas, beets, carrots, apples, peaches, pears, strawberries, gooseberries, jellies, preserves, pickles and the like, all glowing in the light of a single bulb. Onions dried in bunches hanging from the garden shed walls were brought there when it got cold. There were boxes of potatoes, fresh carrots buried in layers in sand in stoneware jars, cases of eggs waiting to go off to town, separated cream waiting to be picked up for delivery to the creamery in Chariton to be processed and turned into Pound o’ Gold butter.

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I’m not necessarily advocating a return to the good old days, but some aspects of the newer and odder days are interesting. We were talking after church Sunday about some of the difficulties encountered at the Interchurch Council food pantry.

One is the fact the many of the younger people who come in for assistance have very little idea of what to do with unprocessed or lightly processed foodstuffs --- dried beans, for example; or flour and cornmeal. One strategy for dealing with that is to provide written instructions.

It’s easy to blame the gone-to-hell younger generation for this, but the older gone-to-hell generation taught (or didn’t teach) it all it knows. Remember that and the potential for judgment limits itself.

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I do think we spend too little time cultivating our own gardens these days, however, and too much time tromping around in the gardens of others. That may be a partial explanation for the fix we’ve gotten ourselves into lately.

Memory lane: The end

I'm doing my darndest to put off beginning a newsletter that absolutely and without question has to be done Thrusday and that's not going to be a problem --- providing I stop procrastinating. In the meantime, the last reunion photo and the biggest grin.

Before Russell Community School there was Dry Flat country school, a mile south of home. My classmates there were Barbara Seibert Chase (left), with whom I also graduated from high school, and Marilyn (Nickell) Gibbs, who graduated from Corydon High School.

We had two wonderful teachers at Dry Flat, both of whom were at the 1980s Dry Flat reunion at which this photo was taken. Louise Wright is on my right; Ethyle Cummins, on my left. It's not clear why I was hanging onto my shirt. So far as I know no one was planning to rip it off.

Sadly, Mrs. Wright, Mrs. Cummins and, most wrenchingly, Marilyn now are dead, leaving Barbara and I as the survivors. You'll find more about last summer's most recent Dry Flat reunion here.

And finally, just to prove I can grin, here's the biggest caught on camera --- also at some point during the 1980s I think. We had been up in the mountains west of Boulder, Colorado, with an experienced Colorado mountain man at the wheel and somehow managed to have three flat tires anyway.

The third occurred as we were coming back down Boulder Canyon. At that point, there was little to do other than laugh about it.

There now, I'm done.

The Class of 1964 turns 65

I'm not going to spend much time here strolling down memory lane, but do feel it fair to point out that I'm not the only one turning 65 this year. Although there's a little variance, the same thing is happening to all 16 of us who remain of the 18-member Russell High School Class of 1964.

I ran into a classmate, Pam, at HyVee the other day and said I'd try to post some of the photos from what I believe was our 20-year reunion during the fall of 1984 (I think). Or was it 25? They're not very good photos, but we waited until too late in the day to take the group shot, it was arranged a little too hurriedly and none of us were focused on taking photos anyway.

We were (from left) Nancy Allen, Gary Seibert, Pam Johnson, Linda Gartin standing directly in front of Sandy Walker, Gwen Cottingham, Steve Pierce, Barbara Seibert, Donna Edwards standing directly in front of Frank Myers, Carmen Dorsey and Dick Christensen.

Gary Seibert didn't graduate with us, but I believe had been a class member at one time and moved to Chariton to graduate. He was fighting cancer when this photo was taken and died not too long thereafter. Sandy Walker also has died. Our classmate Albert Johnson --- a victim of the great unfairness of life --- died in a car crash less than a year after we graduated. The rest of us still are around in one state of repair or another.

Class members not included in the photo were Larry Arnold, David Winsor, Jeanette Cochran, Sue Price, Mike Cremeens and Carol Dawson. Golly, I hope I've gotten this right.

Classmates Nancy Allen (left) and Gwen Cottingham.

We were an extremely close-knit class, so it's a little surprising that we've not gotten together as a group since this reunion, but the Russell Alumni Association sponsors an all-school reunion every five years anyway for those inclined to reunite, so that's probably part of the explanation.

Even then, even in Iowa, an 18-member high school graduating class was considered small --- but the quality of the education we received was very high and we managed to have a very good time while getting into remarkably little trouble.

The only real trouble we got into as a group, as I recall it, involved the small-town hobby of chasing fire trucks. We were at class play practice one evening when the town siren went off. Everyone automatically ran out of the gymnasium, piled into cars and we chased the trucks to a disappointing false alarm on the edge of the state forest northeast of town. This vanishing act distressed our drama coach, obviously not attuned to small-town life, and so we had to go as a group to his house, apologize and beg him to return.

Classmates Barbara Seibert and Pam Johnson.

Our last major outing together was a week-long class trip by chartered bus to New Orleans. Can you imagine that happening in this day and age?

Later that summer Sue Price and I sang together at Carol Dawson's wedding to Alan Lockridge at Sunnyslope Church of Christ. Sunnyslope is an a cappella Church of Christ, which presented a few challenges, but we managed it --- including a processional. There was an electrical storm during the wedding and the lights went out --- but we had plenty of candles (and no musical instrument reliant upon electricity to operate). So it all worked out --- as did the Dawson-Lockridge marriage.

Our bar tender Carl Werts (class of 1965 I think) and classmate Donna Edwards.

While I was a student at Russell, we were the Bluebirds --- not considered an aggressive enough mascot on playing fields by some. So soon thereafter, Russell teams became the Trojans --- at that time unfortunately the most widely recognized brand of condom and now a computer virus. I liked Bluebirds better.

But that's a moot point  because Russell Community School has vanished, too, fighting on in typical Russell fashion until the bitter end --- when the state stepped in a few years ago and closed it because of declining enrollment and resulting financial difficulties.

I hate that in a way and wish more young people could experience the benefits of small, now considered impractical on nearly every level.

The old man at 65

This photo, taken when I was 64-and-something, arrived last week inside a birthday card from my friend Mary Ellen, with whom I'm sharing a bench here on her front deck down along the South Chariton. I look positively benign, I think, so decided to post it. As a rule, when confronted by a camera, I look as if I planned to eat the photographer, grilled, for lunch. There's even the hint of a smile. I laugh a lot. Really.

Mary Ellen also quite effectively expressed life's greatest lesson a couple of years ago in terms that I remember. After the last in a series of deeply-felt deaths, someone asked her how in the world she had managed to cope. "I just keep breathing," she said. Ain't that the truth?

I'm told that when I was born 65 years ago today at Yocom Hospital here in Chariton, my paternal grandfather brought a bouquet of violets picked along fencerows and the margins of his timber. No violets this year, despite a moderate March. But there soon will be. There always are.

The most memorable gift so far has been a large bowl of Lenten purple jello with mixed fruit to acknowledge my rigorous insistence that the Jello served during any function at a Roman Catholic, Episcopal or Lutheran church be of the liturgically correct color for the season. We are all fundamentalist in some things.

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Sixty-five is an artifcial milestone, created by the fact one once became eligible for full retirement benefits on that birthday --- no longer the case. It still has a certain power, however.

I've spent a little time, but not an excessive amount, thinking about some who didn't make it. Vietnam was the first great epidemic that carried away people I loved; AIDS, the second; extreme old age, the third. But I'm not especially good at sensing absence so carry no particularly heavy burden of loss. I can't explain that.

I used to think I'd grow up someday, but have come to see that we never do. Vulnerable and in need, prone to tantrums and fits of temper, inclined now and then because of our own insecurities to be cruel --- there are no adults. We need to remember that more when dealing with ourselves and with each other.

Got up this morning and went to church, as I have most Sundays since I started attending regularly during college. It amazes me that I still go to church. Faith in the institution vanished during the opening years of the previously mentioned AIDS pandemic as I watched Christians in inaction, spewing hate --- as many still do. I call the inability to break my Sunday morning habit a leading.

I've spent going on two years now doing things I love to do, and still feel guilty about that sometimes. I wish I'd broken the habit of doing what I thought I should to do much sooner.

Born queer, I'm bemused when someone attempts to demonstrate my createdness by saying, "but no one would choose to be born that way." I look forward to the day when no one feels obliged to say that --- and the signs are hopeful, but we've got a ways to go.

Love is love and it's wonderful. Makes no difference whether you love someone of the opposite sex or the same sex --- or alternate. The ability to reproduce is irrelevant. Love is sufficient.

Thanks to one and all who see this and have sent greetings. You're all great!

I wish I had really good advice to give, but here's the best I can do after 65 years. Do more of what you love to do, less of what someone tells you should be done. If anyone, including me, begins a conversation by telling you he's a Christian, run like hell. Never believe anything you're told in church --- keep listening, but test it. Fall in love --- as often as necessary. You've been redeemed --- behave as if you believe it. Feed the hungry. Comfort the sick. Raise the dead. Laugh a lot --- mostly at yourself. And above all else, remember to keep breathing.

Irish soda bread

One thing I like about the Corydon Times-Republican, as opposed to the Chariton newspapers, is the Corydon recipe column. In Chariton each week we're treated to at least two preachers plus the publisher and I'd be willing to lobby for at least one less sermon and a little more useful stuff --- like recipes.

This recipe for Irish soda bread was published in the Times-Republican just before St. Patrick's Day and I've made it a couple of times since. It's a quick bread that goes well with soup. It is, however, crusty --- so don't forget to butter the top or to bolt your false teeth into place before tackling it.

4 Cups Flour

1 Tablespoon Baking Soda

1 Tablespoon Sugar

2 1/3 Teaspoons Salt

1/4 Teaspoon Cream of Tartar

2 Cups Buttermilk.

Thoroughly combine the flour, baking soda, sugar, salt and cream of tartar in a large bowl. Make a well in the dry ingredients and pour the buttermilk into it. Mix lightly and quickly with a fork. Form into a ball, place on a lightly floured surface and knead for a minute or more.

Grease a baking sheet and place the ball of dough on it before flattening into a circle about an inch and a half thick. Cut a deep cross into the circle, then bake for about 45 minutes in a preheated 450-degree oven. Brush the top with butter upon removing from oven and allow to cool a few minutes before cutting.

Christian soldiers, feet of clay

Pope Benedict XVI on homosexualilty: "A deviation, an irregularity and a wound," "a destruction of God's work."

There have been two significant reminders this week of the feet-of-clay factor and how it works sometimes within that wing of Christianity determined to demonize LGBT people.

The familiar feet-of-clay reference is taken from the Old Testament book of Daniel and the story of Daniel’s interpretation of Nebuchadneezar’s dream about a giant metal idol with feet made of potters clay. Those feet, Daniel pointed out, made the entire elaborate structure vulnerable.

The Des Moines Register is reporting this morning on the case of the Rev. Patrick Edouard, 41, former pastor of Covenant Reformed Church at Pella, charged with --- during three years of his pastorate, 2006-2008 --- raping three women who were members of his congregation, having sexual contact with a fourth and in general using his position to exploit them.

If you’re familiar with Pella, you’re probably familiar with Covenant’s lavish new building , visible just to the south of Marion County Highway G28 at Pella’s west edge as you enter town after having driven in along Lake Red Rock’s north shore or approaching from the south across Red Rock Dam. Court papers imply Edouard began to develop a pattern of exploiting vulnerable women soon after he arrived to serve the congregation during 2003.

Covenant, with an estimated membership of 700-800, is a member of the rather new United Reformed Churches in North America, organized in 1996 to promote “pure doctrine” among members of the Christian Reformed Church --- hardly a beacon of liberality, but beginning to consider such issues as biblical inerrancy, the possibility that women might hold positions of authority within the church, evolution, the subversive notion that LBGT people might somehow be eligible for grace.

"The congregation is enduring a severe trial," The Register reported the Rev. Andrew Cammenga, interim pastor of Covenant, as saying. "We ask that all Christians pray for us."

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In another part of the country --- the Pacific Northwest --- a bankruptcy settlement of $166.1 million was announced Friday between more than 500 victims of clergy and staff sexual abuse and the Northwest Province of the Roman Catholic Society of Jesus (Jesuits). The province includes Oregon, Washington, Alaska, Idaho and Montana.

Most of the 500 victims were Native American children who attended boarding schools operated by the Jesuits prior to the mid-1970s. In other words, these soldiers for Christ sexually exploited not only the most vulnerable segment of the population, children, but also one of the most vulnerable segments of the population as a whole, Native Americans.

The Jesuits of the Northwest Province previously --- in 1977 --- had reached a $50 million with 113 other Native American child victims of sexual abuse and had attempted to plead poverty to avoid the newest settlement. In addition, the Fairbanks Roman Catholic Diocese reached a bankruptcy settlement of $9.8 million in 2010 with 300 Alaska Native sex abuse victims.

This is just the latest development in the continuing saga of abuse that has turned the Roman Catholic cabal of exclusively self-protecting priests, bishops and popes into a festering wound on the body of Christ. In Iowa, sex abuse settlements among other effects to date have pushed the Diocese of Davenport into bankruptcy and brought down Lawrence Soens, ex-bishop of Sioux City.

And in New York last week, a jocular Archbishop Timothy Dolan, leading the charge there against same-sex marriage, equated it with incest.

Pray for the bastards?

Snow day

Just in case you thought Iowa's winter was over, this is the view from the back yard toward the neighbors' house this morning.

Guess I won't be sitting outside today.

St. Francis has a new cap and coat for spring.

Snow-capped coneflower seed pods.

And daffodills ready to bloom --- almost.

Not bad at all. Still shirt-sleeve weather (31 degrees). And more snow, rain, freezing rain and the like predicted for the weekend.

The hell you say ...

Rob Bell

Well, it’s been another interesting week on all sorts of fronts for those of us who spend at least a little time each day cruising the Internet and scanning headlines to see what’s up.

My favorite religion story continues to be the hooting and hollering that has followed publication of Pastor Rob Bell’s newest, “Love Wins,” subtitled “A Book about Heaven, Hell and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived.”

Bell is the founder and lead pastor of the mega Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids, Mich., part of what is called admiringly or disparagingly the emerging church.

Bell, who publishes frequently, became a candidate for baptism in especially hot water this time by challenging the very old and broadly held assumption among Christians that the billions who have never been Christian, or who aren’t, are being eternally roasted by hellfire --- or soon will be. He even went so far as to suggest that Mahatma Gandhi might not be in eternal torment. Heavens!

Down in North Carolina this week, a United Methodist preacher named Chad Holtz lost his job for agreeing with Bell. Here’s a little clip featuring Holtz that contains one of the clearer expressions regarding grace that I’ve heard recently:

Now the concept of a hell by one name or another is not unique to Christianity; just part of the universal dilemma involved in trying to explain the obvious conflict between good and evil that is part of the human condition and in trying to quantify justice in understandable terms.

But Christians have for centuries relied upon hellfire as a goad --- join us or burn. And that’s addictive. I have trouble swearing off if some days myself --- the thought of let’s say Bob Vander Plaats or Newt Gingrich being sautéed eternally in hot oil over a moderate flame just warms my heart.

Most of the folks I grew up among believed, and many still do, in a literal heaven and a literal hell. But there was a strong element of love in this --- a sincere desire to save souls from torment.

There seems to have been a shift lately, however, in a substantial portion of the church --- from the fear that multitudes will burn in hell to the fear that multitudes won’t. That’s fairly evident in the nature of the debate surrounding Bell’s new book.

What in the world, for example, would a Southern Baptist do with all us queers if there were no hellfire to cast us into?

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Iowa’s new if-it-flies-kill-it bird bill landed on old Fuzz-lip’s desk Thursday and he signed it, proving that the good old boys at the Capitol can move fast if they want to. Actually, it’s not clear a bill ever has moved through the legislative process quite this fast before, so it did take a little fancy footwork to get it done. Not ethical exactly, but sure fancy.

Public opposition has stalled all previous efforts to establish an Iowa hunting season for mourning doves. So this time, the gun crowd (Republicans and Democrats alike) just didn’t give the public an opportunity to have its say. Recent polls show that 52 percent of Iowans still oppose dove hunting, 25 percent favor it and the rest just don’t much care. Pesky public.

The bill breezed through the Senate 30-18 Tuesday after having been pulled out of thin air a while earlier in such a manner that allowed it to bypass the committee process --- and public comment.

Then Russell’s own Republican Rep. Richard Arnold (don’t it make ya proud?) introduced an amendment in the House that gutted a committee-cleared bill dealing with raccoon hunting and substituted the Senate dove bill for it. Hence no need for the committee process, or public comment, here either. Sailed right through Wednsday.

The governor signed it during a private ceremony on Thursday, noting how pleased he and the boy, Marcus, were about it. Probably going to have trouble hitting those little birds, thought, because of their dimunitive size and “erratic” flight patterns, Branstad allowed.

The whole thing kind of reminds you of how the little boys used to behave after they’d been out behind the outhouse smoking --- or worse. Kind of makes you wonder what else those old boys in Des Moines get up to in the privacy of the Capitol toilets.

Oliver Coffman's Diary: January 1863

Iowa's First Cavalry had been on the edge of combat during the Battle of Prairie Grove, fought in northwest Arkansas on Dec. 7, 1862. As 1863 began, Oliver W. Coffman and C Company still were camped at Prairie Grove awaiting orders that would take them northeasterly through rough territory and into southern Missouri.

These are the January entries made by Oliver W. Coffman, of Chariton, in a pocket diary he maintained while serving as a saddler with Co. C, First Iowa Cavalry, during the Civil War --- from Jan. 1, 1863, until he became too ill to write during December of the same year. This story does not have a happy ending, so be warned. Furloughed home because of his critical illness, Oliver died in Chariton on Dec. 26, 1863, age 32, and was buried in Douglass Cemetery, where parts of his tombstone survive. He left behind his wife, Elizabeth, a daughter named Dora and another very young child I haven’t yet identified.

Oliver was obviously intelligent and observant, expressed himself well and had a sense of humor. He also missed his family greatly. He didn’t spell especially well and I’ve tried not to correct that, but “spellcheck” keeps correcting me, unprompted, so that’s a challenge. I think we’re going to get to know Oliver fairly well by the time I’ve finished transcribing the earlier transcript of his original diary that I’m working with (which does present a few challenges). After 148 years, that’s astonishing.

As the year 1863 commenced, Oliver still was camped with the First Cav. at Prairie Grove, Arkansas. The Battle of Prairie Grove had been fought there on Dec. 7, 1862, resulting in a tactical stalemate that nonetheless effectively secured northwest Arkansas for the Union. The Union Army of the Frontier had fielded roughly 9,200 men to combat 11,000 troops of the Confederate First Corps, Trans-Mississippi Army. Because of the luck of the draw, Iowa’s First Cavalry had not been heavily involved in the battle, however. During January, the unit moved from Prairie Grove through northwest Arkansas and into Missouri.

Thursday, Jan. 1, 1863: Today I worked all day. The boys had plenty of whiskey & the artilery are making the old cannon roar. Part of the boys are on a scout. A happy new year to all.

Friday, Jan. 2, 1863: We are camped at Prairie Grove. This is a pretty place but the country around is mountains and hills covered with rocks & trees. The water is fine and pretty.

Saturday (and Sunday), Jan. 3 (and 4), 1863: But most of the farms are destroyed, the fences are burnt & the houses are torn down. Had to contemplate the honor of work. Most people rest. But there is no rest for a soldier. Be fearsley (illegible) when Sunday comes. If man is damned for misusing this day then all are bound for hell.

Monday, Jan. 5, 1863: Well at work again. I will make something extra now I think. I am glad that I have the position of sadler to keep me out of scout & gard duties which is considerable harder.

Tuesday, Jan. 6, 1863: I have been in the country some since I came to this place. I find the people quite ignorant & poor. I have seen but 2 or 3 schoolhouses in Arkansas. What a place.

Wednesday, Jan. 7, 1863: The citizens seem to no nothing about the big world outside and care less & hog & homany is all the go in Arkansas. I wouldn’t live here for the best farm I have seen in the state.

Thursday, Jan 8, 1863: Today I was in the country. I saw a picture of the Ark. Traveler. I tell you it was a nice picture. I saw some ladies that made me think of Lizz dear at home. Bless her and the babies.

Friday, Jan. 9, 1863: Well here we go for huntville (Huntsville). This is the one of 2 town of note in Ark. & is nearly all burnt down, farm and factories & houses. Luck is with us. The country is very nice and plenty of forage and water. Gen. Totter (perhaps Iowa's Gen. James M. Tuttle) takes command here now. We go bound for Careton , Mo. (The destination actually was Carrollton, Arkansas, en route to Forsyth, Missouri.)

Sunday, Jan. 11, 1863: All through this part of the country the mts. are covered with pine & cedar. The people live in little cabins & you see nothing but children.

Monday, Jan. 12, 1863: We stop at houses on the road & cook sow belley & crackers. They don’t like the looks of the feds & are much afraid.

Tuesday, Jan. 13, 1863: You see much distress along the road. Today a little girl hollered at us that (soldiers) had taken all our (their) things. Said I didn’t take your things. All laughed hearty, which is war.

Wednesday, Jan. 14, 1863: On the march still, cross a creek 75 or 80 times today. Pass some fine valley. I carried oats some 5 miles to feed my horse. Today the weather is nice and warm. Tomorrow I think we will stop.

Thursday, Jan. 15, 1863: Well on the road yet. We still follow westerly creek. Cross cross all the time. Well Lizzy, this journal is for you alone.

Friday, Jan. 16, 1863: We camped out all night laying on the ground. The night is pretty & we sleep warm. I have plenty of horse feed. But nothing but crackers for ourselves.

Saturday, Jan. 17, 1863: This morning we are drawing up in line of battle expecting a fite, but we don’t find many reble. 12 o’clock on the march over mountains and hills.

Sunday, Jan. 18, 1863: Sunday again. On the march all day. The country presents about the same face --- mountains & hills, rocks & streams.

Monday, Jan. 19, 1863: Stop at huntsvill(e). It is a small place nearly deserted. The country is fare & plenty of forage. We got up lots of oats & corn. Got to work in shop again.

Tuesday, Jan. 20, 1863: Good Lord. March at advance. Hurry, down comes the tents. Saddle up & off we go for Carlton (Carrollton). March, march along. Camp out all night. Cold but sleep warm.

Wednesday, Jan. 21, 1863: Carlton (Carrollton), hello. A little place with 2 families in it. Has been quite a little place. Nice water. Lots of Butternut (illegible) here.

Thursday, Jan. 22, 1863: About this time it snows hard --- 12 inches deep. Most of the boys are out on a scout. Dear Lizz, I wish I was with you & the babies --- no more would I rome away from home.

Friday, Jan. 23, 1863: 8 o’clock march and off we go for forging the rain & snow, ough. Hills and mountains to cross up & down. I am getting march dizzy.

Saturday, Jan. 24, 1863: Today we pass through a nice fine forace (forest). What mighty trees, 80 to 100 feet high & not a limb. All day going through. Camp in the edge of some.

Sunday, Jan. 25, 1863: Sunday again. Rain & snow all day --- on the march till come into camp on White River (in Missouri). West side. Camp on a hill. Shovel the snow away to get the tents (up). Cold.

Monday, Jan. 26, 1863: Today go to work. The weather cold. The country is hilly here. White river is a nice stream. Very high now. The roads are very muddy. We will cross the river in a few days.

Tuesday, Jan. 27, 1863: Still in camp. They are fixing up the ferry boat to cross. It is one curtus (sic) built. It had been sunk in the river some time.

Wednesday, Jan. 28, 1863: Well Lizzy we are still in camp. Some of the boys started to swim their horses over & one of them got drowned, poor fellow. He belonged to the (possibly Missouri) Cav.

Thursday, Jan. 29, 1863: Still working at the boat & have got it running. Some are crossing over. Propose to go over in a few days. The river too rapid here. Bad to cross.

Friday, Jan. 30, 1863: Today, Co. A undertook to swim over & one of the boys, a corporal, got drowned. Foolish man to run such risks.

Saturday, Jan. 31, 1863: Today we cross the river 3 miles above forest. I swam over horses & took our baggage over in a canoe all safe. Camp in town in houses. Strange to be in a house again.

Over the rainbow ...

How sad that Elizabeth Taylor died this morning in California at 79 after a long battle with ill health and a long and vivid life.

Those of us around for the opening years of the AIDS pandemic remember her grace, beauty and courage as a combatant --- one of the first --- for acknowledgement of the disease and the drive to find a cure.

The American Foundation for Aids Research, amFAR, which she helped to found, posted this tribute narrated, I believe, by Dame Maggie Smith, this morning.

But many of us might think of her in terms of this song and through the words of another great lady of the silver screen from a slightly different era:

Eternal rest grant them both, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.

More Columbia girls (plus a boy)

On a far happier note than dead doves, here are two more photos of young people from Columbia found in Aunt Emma Prentiss's battered old album. Both feature my grandmother, Jessie, who as I've said before seems to have been one of the most widely photographed young women in the West. Sadly, the emulsion on both is beginning to fade a little --- the result of careless fixing rather than exposure to the elements.

This photo was taken by R. E. Jones at Ivy, Iowa, a tiny no-place along what now is Highway 163 east of Des Moines in Polk County. I have no idea what Grandmother was doing there, but the name McCorkle is synonymous with Columbia, so I'm guessing Jessie and the two McCorkles were visiting the unidentified "cousin" in the photo when it was taken.

Jessie is standing in this photo. Immediately in front of her, identified in Grandmother's elegant handwriting, are Addie (left) and Jennie McCorkle. The woman seated in front is identified as "a cousin of Addie and Jennie."

This photo was taken at Columbia, probably by Uncle Al Love. I can't decide what the subjects are supposed to be doing --- sorting berries? Snapping green beans? Who knows.

Whatever the case, they are identified in my grandfather's less elegant hand as (from left) Adda McCorkle, A.B. Askren, Della Stone, Grandmother Jessie and Grace Russell. Note, too, that the three young women on the right are wearing dresses made from the same fabric. Do you suppose it was on sale at one of Columbia stores that year?

Whatever they were up to, isn't it neat that they got together and commissioned this photograph? In both cases, click on the image to enlarge.

On the wings of a cold, dead dove ...

Course I'd never say I told ya so, but the Iowa Senate on Tuesday authorized 30-18 a mourning dove hunting season; the House now will pass it, too; and what currently passes for a governor has said he'll sign it.

So Iowa will become the 40th state where these little birds can be used for target practice. Although a few proponents say they'll actually dress, cook and eat the doves they kill, most freely admit target practice is what it's all about --- the thrill of the kill. There's hardly enough meat on a dove to eat, especially when it's full of shot.

Like I've said before, I have no particular problem with hunters --- who stalk game with the goal of putting it on the table. Those of us who do our hunting in front of meat case at HyVee have little cause to be uppity on this score. But killing just to kill is another matter.

Can't blame the Republicans for this one either, darn it. Most of 'em still are works of the devil, but this was a bipartisan effort.

It's been illegal to hunt doves in Iowa since 1918, although a bill authorizing it passed both houses in 2001. Gov. Tom Vilsack, a Democrat, vetoed it that time.

Now we can kill the suckers --- now that's a mighty legislative achievement.

Nickel-colored skies and general gloom

Looking toward the south inlet at Red Haw at 2 p.m. Monday

We could use a little sunshine around here; blue skies, too, please. Not that the moderating temperatures aren't appreciated (of course it could be global warming). But cloud cover for the last few days has produced an odd milky light that can seem ominous at times.

Monday was a nickel-silver day, no sun to be seen at all. I took to the woods in search of green and found very little --- a bit early, although things soon will start to pop and I'm ready. Daffodils behind the house have budded, but still no color to be seen. 

The Canada geese are settling in on the big pond down at the marsh, honking and waddling on shore and strolling down the trail --- until humans show up causing them, wisely, to set sail.

By week's end, highs will descend into the 30s again and snow is a possibility. So it remains unsettled and unpredictable weatherwise, much like the situation in general these days.

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Looking at this image of an old nickel plucked off the Web, I noticed the absence of "In God We Trust" and got to wondering when that phrase, now meaningless because of its universality, had appeared. On all coins beginning in 1938, I discovered. It became the "official" U.S. motto in in 1955, a year after "under God" was added to the pledge in a fit of ceremonial deism.

I see that a bill introduced by U.S. Rep Randy Forbes (R-Virginia) reaffirming the motto and encouraging its display in all public buildings and classrooms is due to come to a vote soon in the House. I really don't care too much about this one. Even the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that the phrase has "lost through rote repetition any significant religious content."

I still have trouble for some reason with the pledge, though, rarely join in and even when, overcome by a paroxysm of something or another, I do, it's without God. Affirm allegiance to the republic? Maybe. It's messy, but all we've got. Worshipping the flag, however, seems a bit much and the sentiments of Quaker forbears opposed to oaths and other instances of taking the name of God in vain rise up and choke me.

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When deciding what to worry about, I usually take my cue from MSNBC --- so today it's that Japanese nuclear reactor rather than our newest war, in Libya.

Like many semi-Luddites, I'm uneasy about nuclear power (and genetic engineering, too), in part at least because no one's figured out yet how to defuse nuclear waste, which just sits around somewhere in a deadly state for millenia.

Although the situation in Japan has not been catastrophic (yet), it's not done much to build public confidence. I began sensibly, reading all of the "that-can't-possibly-happen" reassurances from the experts. Then, of course, much of what couldn't happen did happen and I'm left wondering what will happen next.

On the other hand, headed up to bed last night I counted as I turned off seven electrical devices in four rooms that had been switched on all evening --- it's so much trouble to turn the lights off and on, you know. So obviously the fuel needed to power my greed for illumination has to come from somewhere.

+++

I was entertained, however, by the following clip --- a British parody of "Downton Abbey," recently broadcast on PBS, as well as all other period dramas, those who produce them and those who star.  Perhaps you had to watch the series to appreciate the parody --- and actually being British and attuned to British humor might enhance enjoyment.

Belinda Christian Church: Part Two

The Belinda church bell was moved when the church closed to the grounds of First Christian Church in Chariton where it continues to ring out. The stone embedded in the bell structure is from First Christian's earlier building a block north of the square in Chariton.

Picking up the story of the English Creek/Belinda Christian Church from here, the congregation continued to meet in homes, according to Elizabeth Tuttle and others, until its pastor, the Rev. Hiram Moon, built a new house for his family and turned his old log cabin over to the congregation as a house of worship. That log church remained in use until the Civil War broke out.

A total of 109 or 110 baptized members joined the congregation during the 1850s, although it needs to be remembered that not all of these were members at the same time. South central Iowa was among other things at that time a pass-through area for those headed farther west and some early members did move on, some departing with letters confirming their membership and others without. A few members died; a few members were dismissed for “disorder.”

Here are the names of those first enrolled members. There are 110 numbers but only 109 names --- perhaps a name was skipped when the record was transcribed.

1. Hiram Moon, Received by letter, now Deceased; 2. Martha Moon, Received by letter, now Deceased; 3. Larkin Moon, Received by letter, now deceased; 4. Lavisa Moon, Received by Letter, now Deceased: 5. Jesse Atkinson, Received by letter, Dismissed by letter; 6. Elizabeth Atkinson, Received by letter, Granted letter; 7. Tabitha Asher, Received by letter, Dismissed without letter; 8. Elizabeth Asher, Received by letter, Granted a letter; 9. Matilda Asher, Received without letter, Granted a letter; 10. John Asher, Received by Confession and Baptism.

11. Isabel Asher, Received by letter; 12. Leonard B. Feagins, Received without letter, Dismissed for discord; 13. Mary Clare (Clair), Received without letter; 14. Hanner Ballard, Received by Confession and Baptism (Received good letter); 15. John Ballard, Received by Confession and Baptism, Dismissed for disorder; 16. Levi (?) Atkinson, Received by Confession and Baptism, Dismissed by Letter; 17. Sarah J. Atkinson, Received by Confession and Baptism, Dismissed by letter; 18. Joanna Crandal, Received without letter, Dismissed without letter; 19. Jemima Barker, Received without letter, Dismissed no letter; 20. Anna Barker, Received without letter, Dismissed no letter.

21. Nancy Fletcher, Received by letter; 22. Mary E. Stotts, Received by letter; 23. Susan Fletcher, Received by letter; 24. Delila Clare, Received by Confession and Baptism, Granted letter; 25. Aaron Haines, Received by letter, Dismissed no letter; 26. Mary Ann Haines, Received by letter, Dismissed no letter; 27. Esther W. Haines, Received by letter, Dismissed no letter; 28. Jesse Atkinson, Received without letter, Granted letter; 29. Hazel C. Wycuff, Received by letter, Out for disorder; 30. Margaret Wycuff, Received by letter, Out for disorder.

31. Elizabeth Stotts, Received without letter, Granted letter; 32. John Morris, Received without letter, Dismissed no letter; 33. Mary Morris, Received without letter, Deceased; 34. Elisabeth Kinsey, Received withough letter, Dismissed no letter; 35. Samuel W. Fletcher, Received without letter, Deceased; 36. Mary Stotts, Received by Confession and Baptism, Granted letter; 37. Margaret Halferty, Received without letter, Dismissed no letter; 38. Mary M. Richey, Received by Confession and Baptism, Granted letter; 39, Edward Halferty, Received without letter, Dismissed no letter; 40. John Halferty, Received by Confession and Baptism, Dismissed no letter.

41. James Atkinson, Received by Confession and Baptism, Out for disorder; 42. Elizabeth Atkinson, received by letter, Granted letter; 43. Elizabeth Kinsey, Received by Confession and Baptism, Dismissed no letter; 44. Peter N. Barker, Received no letter, Dismissed no letter; 45. Anna Barker, Received without letter, Dismissed no letter; 46. Sarah Atkinson, Received without letter, Dismissed no letter; 47. John Canada, Received without letter, Dismissed no letter; 48. James P. Foster, Received by letter, Dismissed no letter; 49. Almira Foster, Received by letter, Dismissed no letter; 50. Green P. Davis, Received by Confession and Baptism, Dismissed by Letter.

51. Polly A. Davis, Received by Confession and Baptism, Dismissed by letter; 52. Clemency Mcilvoy, Received by Confession and Baptism, Dismissed by letter; 53. Mary J. Asher, Received by Confession and Baptism, Dismissed by letter; 54. Sara C. Asher, Received by Confession and Baptism; Dismissed by letter; 55. Rebecca Harhoole, Received without letter, Dismissed by Letter; 56. Margaret E. Moon, Received by confession and baptism; 57. (blank); 58. Nancy E. Morris, Received by confession and baptism, Dismissed without letter; 59. Amanda M. Johnson, Received by confession and baptism, Dismissed without letter; 60. Permilia Hurt, Received by confession and baptism, Dismissed without letter.

61. Julia Ann Asher, Received by confession and Baptism, dismissed without letter; 62. John G. Colwell, Received by confession and baptism, Out for disorder; 63. Sarah Rowles, Received without letter; 64. Amanda Stone, Received by confession and baptism, dismissed no letter; 65. Jacob Shively, Received by confession and baptism, Letter granted; 66. Barbara Shively, Received by confession and baptism, Letter granted; 67. Sarah O. Elder, Received by letter, Letter granted; 68. William C. Johnson, Received without letter, Letter granted; 69. Eliza Johnson, Received without letter, Dismissed no letter; 70. John Wycoff, Received by confession and baptism, Deceased.

71. Hiram H. Johnson, Received by confession and baptism, Dismissed no letter; 72. Mitchel Stotts, Received by confession and baptism; 73. Elizabeth Fletcher, received by confession and baptism, Dismissed by letter; 74. Nathaniel G. Howard, received by confession and baptism, Dismissed by letter; 75. Edward Halferty, received without letter, Dismissed without letter; 76. Joann Crowly (or Crowley), Received by confession and baptism, Dismissed without letter; 77. John Laugh, Received by letter, Dismissed without letter; 78. Elizabeth Laugh, Received by letter, Dismissed without letter; 79. William Newman, Received by letter, Dismissed without letter; 80. Nancy Newman, Received by letter, Dismissed without letter.

81. David Ballard, Received by confession and baptism, Dismissed without letter; 82. Johanna Crandall, Received without letter, Dismissed without letter; 83. James Vinsonhaler, Received by confession and baptism, Dismissed without letter; 84. Nancy A. Vinsonhaler, Received by letter, Dismissed without letter; 85. Hannah Ballard, Received by letter, Dismissed without letter; 86. Jane Johnson, Received without letter, Dismissed without letter; 87. John P. Nunan, Received by letter, Dismissed without letter; 88. Letty Nunan, Received by letter, Dismissed without letter; 89. Rebecca Vinsonhaler, Received by Letter, Dismissed without letter; 90. Ellen Ballard, Received by confession and baptism, Dismissed no letter.

91. John W. Cawhoun, Received by confession and baptism; 92. Thomas Benton Reed, Received by confession and baptism; Deceased; 93. Sarah Reed, Received by confession and baptism; 94. Margaret Wycoff, Received without letter; 95. Martha E. Cohrane, Received without letter, Deceased (?); 96. Ann L. Crowley, Received without letter, Out for disorder; 97. Elizabeth Heaton, Received without letter; 98. Rachel E. Wycoff, Received by confession and baptism; 99. Eli Moon, Received by confession and baptism; 100. Charlotte Moon, Received by confession and baptism.

101. Tabitha M. Hunt, Received by confession and baptism, Dismissed no letter; 102. James H. Wycoff, Received by confession and baptism, Deceased; 103. Mary J. Caldwell, Received by letter; 104. Cynthia Ann Moon, Received by letter; 105. Hazel C. Wycoff, Received by letter, Out for disorder; 106. Sarah Ann Stuart, Received by Confession and baptism, Dismissed no letter; 107. Amanda Stone, Received no letter, Letter granted; 108. Nathaniel G. Howard, Received by letter; 109. Matilda Howard, Received by letter; 110. Sarah E. Moon, Received by confession and baptism.

Note that Hannah and John Ballard, member nos. 14 and 15, were Lucas County's first permanent settlers. Their home was nearby along English Creek in English Township. Interesting that John was dismissed for "disorder." Although Ballard descendants remain in Lucas County, John and Hannah soon moved farther west.

It’s not clear exactly why the congregation became inactive soon after 1860. The Rev. Mr. Moon died on Jan. 7, 1861, and his wife, Martha, followed on April 10, 1862, so that almost certainly was a factor. Whatever caused it, no regular worship services were held in the old log church during the Civil War years.

The English Creek/Belinda congregation seems never to have had a cemetery associated specifically with it. Hiram and Martha Moon, other members of their family and perhaps other early members were buried in what now is known as Strong Cemetery, not far southwest of the church but inaccessible at least now from it. To reach Strong, it is necessary to drive about three quarters of a mile west of the church on gravel, turn south for perhaps a third of a mile, then find the entrance to the long lane that leads back east to the cemetery out in the middle of farm fields.

This cemetery, a large and generally well-maintained pioneer cemetery, also has been known at times as the Belinda Cemetery, but that most likely is related to the nearby village rather than the church.

When charter member Mary Clair’s husband, William, died in 1853, he was buried on the highest point of land around some distance southeast of the church.

The Columbia Cemetery was begun in the neighborhood of 1853 and thereafter it became the principal burial place for English Creek/Belinda members. The congregation was always considered, more or less, a Columbia church, serving as an alternative worship site to the Methodist Episcopal church located in the town proper.

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Following the Civil War, the English Creek congregation reorganized by new covenant on Dec. 31, 1866, this time as the Church of Christ or Christian Disciples “in Pleasant township, Lucas County, Iowa, South West of Columbia, but near.”

The sixteen charter members who signed the new convenant were A. R. Byers, James A. Foster. Mitchel Stotts, Larkin Moon, Josiah Witt, Job Clevinger, David Crowley, John Sinclair, Julian Asher, Anne E.N. Crawley, Almira Foster, Lavisa Moon, Nancy Cinclair (Sinclair), Charlotte Mary Byers, Elizabeth Witt and Sarah C. Stotts.

A.R. Byers and Josiah Witt were named elders and Larkin Moon and James P. Foster, deacons.

According to Tuttle, services of the revived congregation were held for some years in the Byers home and often involved an entire weekend with worship on Saturday evening, Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon.

In June of 1871,the Belinda trustees purchased for $10 from William and Margaret Irons the land where the church building still stands. The building was commenced immediately and completed during the fall of 1872 at a cost of roughly $1,800.

The Disciples took the name Belinda, from a village that commencing in the late 1850s had developed about a mile and a half the south of it. Belinda the village, occupied by no more than 50 people at any given time, was a post office from 1858 to 1908 and a few traces of it still can be seen --- if you know where to look. Once upon a time, according to stories about it, there was a hotel, a blacksmith shop, two general stores, a mill and perhaps eight houses.

The town was founded on land owned all or in part by Alfred and Sarah Cole and was named for their daughter, Belinda, born just as the new town was being developed. Belinda Cole went on some years later to marry (disastrously) my cousin, Jones S. Clair, son of Zolomon J. and Delilah, whom she quite sensibly divorced in 1895 after he’d done a good deal of damage.

Tuttle provides a few interesting bits and pieces about the early congregation, including the fact its ministers were paid $5 per Sunday. The congregation held communion every Sunday, as the Disciples still do, but at that time insisted that real wine (not the prohibition-era grape juice still served today) was the only appropriate liquid element of the sacrament.

By 1914, the congregation had grown to the point that building improvements were needed, so the 1871 structure was expanded and a bell tower added. The bell was donated by the Frank Edwards family, which reacquired years later when Belinda closed and donated it to First Christian Church in Chariton, where it continues to serve.

Belinda prospered for many years, in nearly all cases benignly. The exception would be involvement early in the 20th century by a few of its members in the Ku Klux Klan, then very active in Lucas County --- even the county sheriff of the time was a member as were as several relatives and near-relatives of mine --- not affiliated with Belinda.

None-the-less, I nearly fell off my chair some years ago while reading the obituary of a Belinda members whose funeral had been conducted at the church “under the auspices of the knights and ladies of the Ku Klux Klan.” A complete Klan costume was found among the belongings of the former member who also had retained the membership book I’ve quoted here.

Despite that dark patch --- and a very dark patch it is --- Belinda’s impact on its members and its neighborhood generally was a positive one --- and many still remember it fondly.

By the time that old book I copied was full, the names of roughly 900 members had been recorded and I find among the names of many cousins, those of Velma and Ernest Miller, received by confession and baptism on May 18, 1941; Ernest’s wife, Leona Pierschbacher, received by confession and baptism on June 11, 1944; and Elizabeth Miller, received by confession and baptism on Aug. 10, 1948.

If I’m counting right we’re down to three country churches now --- Center Community, Goshen Baptist and Norwood United Methodist (the Assembly of God church at Norwood might be counted, too, but it’s “in town” --- sort of). The loss of all those others, including Belinda, certainly has torn the fabric of our collective life.