Tombs with a View II: Stoneking

Nearly everyone is related at Stoneking Cemetery, back in hills bordering the Cedar Creek valley's south side in Pleasant Township --- one reason why it has at least three names: Stoneking, for the founding family; Stoneking-Darrah, because it is home ground for both of these related families; and Oak Hill because of its location atop a hill crowned by oaks.

The views here are not as dramatic as those at the Newbern Cemetery, several miles west above the White Breast, but it is a lovely, peaceful place --- most of the time.

Circumstances have led to disturbances now and then, related primarily to its remote location.  It became a popular late-night party location some years ago, has sustained considerable vandalism and also has fired the imaginations of fairly dim people who declare it haunted. You can find "haunted places" blather about Stoneking elsewhere on the Web, but its hard to imagine a less haunted place when actually standing up here and looking around.

Although family associations are strong here, this is a public cemetery maintained by the Pleasant Township trustees. If you're in the market for a tomb with a view, burial plots are available.

The legendary mine and mining town, both called Tiperrary, are a couple of miles due west of Stoneking's hilltop; and the road out here from Williamson will take you past the site of Big Ben, the last of Lucas County's coal mines to close. To get here, take the side road turning south just before the curve down in Coal Glen, then cross the Cedar and twist sharply up the big hill.

The approach used to be a little more interesting. The original rickety Iron bridge got to be a little too rickety for heavier vehicles several years ago, so was supplemented by a Missouri crossing that plunged into and then arose from the creek bed, presenting an option (until the bridge was closed entirely). I usually opted for that crossing, figuring it was better to drive through the creek than come crashing down into it. That also was a good way to scare visitors to southern Iowa not familiar with Missouri crossings. But by now, the remains of both the old bridge and the crossing have been swept away and a new bridge installed. Practical, but boring. I'm sure anyone needing to maneuver heavy equipment --- or a hearse --- in and out appreciate it, however.

Beyond the cemetery, where the graveled surface ends, a "level B" minimum-maintenance road meanders off into the Cedar Creek Unit of Stephens State Forest. There's lots to see back in there, but not when its muddy.

Quite a bit has been done recently at Stoneking --- a new gateway, new fences and this sign (below), apparently favored for target practice by local sportsmen. These guys shoot at tombstones, too, sometimes.

The patriarch of the Stoneking family, Adam, who died March 19, 1865, at the age of 51, was among the first to be buried here. His tombstone has fallen, or been knocked, flat on its back.

 But the patriarch of the cemetery is Joseph Park --- father of Adam Stoneking's wife, Sarah --- who died Nov. 23, 1882, at the age of 86.

Delilah Stoneking, daughter of Adam and Sarah, married Soloman Darrah, which is the principal family connection between all of the Stonekings and Darrahs buried here.

One of the most interesting tombstones is shared by Adam's and Sarah's son, Joseph Stoneking, and his wife, Lucinda. The verse carved onto is is an old favorite that appears on countless tombstones from coast to coast, but rarely on one this recent:

Dear children as you pass by,

as you are now, so once was I.

As I am now, so soon you'll be.

Prepare for death and follow me.

This harmless reminder of our mortality seems to be one of the factors leading to poor Stoneking's haunted reputation. Some with limited intelligence have interpreted this as a curse.

But Meg's Larry told the other day what now is my favorite Stoneking story as we were sitting around talking about the cemetery. Larry knew a former deputy sheriff who, during a period of intense partying and general mischief near Stoneking years ago, was dispatched late at night to see if he could nab any of the youthful perpetrators.

He pulled into the driveway north of the cemetery, drove around behind some of the trees (since removed) that once surrounded it, and parked to wait, but no mischief-makers showed up.

Eventually, the deputy nodded off. Awaking as the sun rose, he discovered that he had parked in a patch of morel musrooms. So he gathered as many as he could carry --- and drove home. That's about as haunted as Stoneking gets.

Trivial pursuits

Did I mention that I won "Trivial Pursuit" last night? It's hard to drop that casually into a conversation  without sounding prideful. Let's not talk about the fact it was necessary to cheat in order to end the game. But if we hadn't, we'd probably still be there sitting there bleary-eyed around a table rolling the die, trying to get someone with all six wedges filled in into the center space for the ultimate question.

We were playing a vintage version, probably manufactured not long after 1982, when the game was introduced. Wikipedia says 88 million have been sold since in 26 countries and 17 languages. At least the box and related gear looked exactly like that pictured above (harvested online) --- except our box was in better shape.

Many of the questions linked to popular culture were hopelessly obsolete --- but then some of us are approaching that point, too. That made it more fun.

And some of the questions served to remind that history marches on. Like, "What four countries contain a fourth of the world's population?" China, India, the United States --- so far so good. But who remembers the Soviet Union? I wonder what the right answer would be now.

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I've been taking the week between Christmas and New Year's off --- kind of, engaged in other trivial pursuits: Reading a little, cleaning house a little, cooking a little, watching the birds. Not composing lists of new year resolutions (why bother?). This always has been one of my favorite weeks of the year. Three days left. There's a lot to be said for trivial.

Isaac C. Cain: By T.M. Dunshee

Isaac C. Cain and his wife, Elizabeth, share this tombstone at Spring Hill Cemetery, three miles south of Newbern. A Presbyterian church sometimes called the Cain Church had been built nearby during 1875 and this cemetery served its members and their neighbors. Isaac died Aug. 1, 1908, at age 82. His wife, Elizabeth, had died 20 years earlier, on June 2, 1888.

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This is the fourteenth in a series of biographical sketches and articles written or edited by Thomas M. Dunshee between 1903, when he began collecting the material, and 1910, when he finished entering the sketches in a small blue "tablet" notebook now in the Lucas County Historical Society collection. The subjects all were fellow pioneers in the Newbern neighborhood of English Township, Lucas County. This entry is in two parts --- the text of a brief letter dated 1904 from Isaac C. Cain within the main text and a printed version of an expanded letter, dated 1905, pasted into the back of the notebook.

ISAAC CAIN

By Isaac Cain

February 1904

My grandparents on my father's side (were) Abijah Cain, Irish, and Martha Cain, (of) Englilsh descent; on my mother's side, Charles Mcglothlin, Scotch, and Jane Davis, French, all of whom immigrated from North Carolina to Kentucky, then to Ohio, then to Fountain County, Indiana.

There George Cain and Rebecca Mcglothlin, my parents, were married and I was born December, 1825. There I lived to the age of 16 years. In 1841, I moved to Monroe County, Iowa, where I was married to Elizabeth Leeper in November 1848 at the age of 23 years. (Monroe County did not open to Euro-American settlers until the spring of 1843, so the date "1841" is not accurate.)

Our first child, C.J. Cain, was born Dec. 20th, 18149. We moved to Lucas County (during) November, 1850.

The year 1851 was the year of the flood disabling all mills. All got out of bread stuff. I and my family had to boil corn in the ear until soft, then grate it, making meal. Thus we got our bread stuff for some three weeks.

The year 1847 to 1848 were the dryest I ever saw. In Iowa, the prairie grass dried in August until it burned readily. The ground cracked open until we could run stucks down four to six feet, these cracks running east and west across the divides.

Myself and Pleasant Williams built the first sawmill in Lucas County, a water mill on White Breast.

Ransom Davis, Joseph Stuart and myself built a steam mill in Newbern when I first came to the country. Old Tommy Wilson was the first store keeper. About this time, Wescoat & Waynick came and located in Chariton.

I built a cabin in Lucas county at Newbern; moved into it when only half floored, no chimney, no daubing and no door. It snowed within two days. The floor was hewed puncheons.

The farm which I owned contained 160 acres situated in Sections 5 and 6 (and) was afterward known as the Michael Fry place. I fenced 60 acres the first winter and the next summer broke out 125 acres.

We bought most of our merchandise at Eddyville and made two trips to the Mississippi river, one to Keokuk and one to Burlington. Later, I made two trips down into Missouri, a distance of 200 miles, for apples, selling them at $2 per bushel.

See letter from Isaac Cain to T.M. Dunshee taken from Chariton Leader/back part of this book.

BACK TO THE PIONEER DAYS

Isaac Cain Writes of his Early Experiences

There Were Privations and Hardships to Be Endured But It Makes a Happy Retrospect

Taken from Chariton Leader, June 15th, 1905

The local society of English township is collecting early history and sketches of pioneer settlers. Isaac C. Cain, who is perhaps the oldest settler in Lucas county, now temporarily in Washington, contributes the following which is handed us by Marshall Dunshee:

Manor, Washington, June 10, 1905.

In accordance wtih my promise to give some facts in connection with the early days of English township and my family parentage, I write you. My grandfather, Chas. W. McGlothlin, was of Scottish origin, and Jane Davis, his wife, French; and my grandparents on the other side were Abijah Cain, Irish, and Martha Cain, his wife, English. This forms a cosmopolitan parentage. They all emigranted from North Carolina to Kentucky, thence to Ohio and from there to Fountain county, Indiana. There George Cain and Rebecca McGlothlin, my parents were married, and there I was born in Dec. 1825, and emigrated to Iowa with my parents in 1841, settling in Monroe County, where I was married to Elizabeth J. Leeper in Nov. 1848. Our first child, C.J. Cain, was born in said county Dec. 20, 1849.

I came to Lucas county and pre-empted land in August, 1850, and moved there in September of the same year. There were only four families living between Knoxville and Chariton and none between Newbern and Chariton at that time --- a distance of 38 miles.

The land which I had pre-empted joined Newbern on the south and east and my house was built of logs. We moved into it before it was completed. The puncheon floor was only half laid, no chinking between the logs and no door when a severe snow storm caught us. Besides we had no stove; no chimney. It also found us without a stable for my team. My cabin was the first house where the town of Newbern now stands.

Ransom Davis laid out the town of Newbern and built the first house after mine. Rev. Joseph Howard was the first minister of the gospel in the township and settled on land adjoining mine on the west. This was in the same year we came. He was the first postmaster. The first church built in Newbern was by the Methodists. Then came the Cumberland Presbyterians and after them the United Brethren.

My first crop of winter wheat in the county made eighteen bushels per acre and was cut with a cradle. William Stuart and Sanford Smith cut ten acres of wheat in one day. This was near Newbern.

Pleasant Williams and myself built the first mill in Lucas county --- a saw mill on the Big White Breast; later it was changed into a grist mill. I burned the first lime in the county, on Long Branch in English township. The first potters ware made in the county was by Nelson Cain, on English Creek.

The year 1851 has been designated as the year of the flood. It began to rain on the 8th day of May and continued until all streams were impassable, there being no bridges. Our family loaned present supply of flour and meal as none could get any ground. We then boiled corn grown the year before, grated it and thus made our bread for six weeks.

Martin Willis and myself made sugar on White Breast two seasons --- 1854 and 1855.

I think I sowed the first timothy seed in the county. It was thought by some that it would not be a success, yet I got a good crop.

Wolves were very plenty. I have seen as many as five together in the month of February in the early fifties.

Settlers were very sociable and if a log cabin was ready to be raised the neighbors would turn out and help, often without invitation.

Dr. Chas. Fitch began the practice of medicine in Lucas county and as bridges and fords weres scarce he traveled much on horse back, stopping at cabins when hungry for milk and corn bread. If the folks were not at home he would help himself and feed his horse anyway. The doctor loved to tell of those days and laugh. He came to my house one very hot day and found no one at home. He was very sick, and had tied his horse and laid down in the shade and when I came home (I) found him trying to vomit but it seemed he could not. I fixed him a pallet and advised him to take a vomit, saying "that is what you would do with me." "Yes," he replied, "I could give it to you but it would make me so sick. Give me some warm water." He had lost his hat in tying his horse, which I found for him, and after he had recovered from his sun stroke he started for his home in Chariton.

I have spoken of the Rev. Joseph Howard. He was a zealous Cumberland Presbyterian and did not like to baptize by immersion. At a protracted meeting he had previously held one of the converts desired to be baptized by immersion. This meant to either comply or lose a member, so the time was set and the place, a neighboring stream, selected and a goodly number of people were present to witness the ceremony, partly on account of the adverse sentiments of the preacher and for other reasons. The minister waded out into the stream with the convert and proceeded to administer the sacrament, but in some unaccountable manner the subject got away from the old man and made his way to the nearest shore, while the preacher was assisted up the opposite slope, remarking as he reached terra-firma: "I didn't believe much in it, nowhow." Thus unceremoneously terminated a meeting that failed of its original purpose.

We bought most of our store goods at Eddyville. I made two trips to the Mississippi River --- to Burlington and Keokuk. Later two trips to Missouri, 200 miles, for applies which I sold at $2.00 a bushel.

The years 1847 and 1848 were the dryest I ever saw in Iowa. The prairie grass dried in August until it burned readily. The ground cracked open until we could run sticks from four to six feet. These crevices ran east and west across the divide.

Ransom Davis, Joseph Stuart and myself built a steam mill in Newbern. Old Tommy Wilson was the first store keeper and about this time Wescoat & Waynick located in Chariton.

Yours truly,

Isaac C. Cain

Macerated fruit & more cornbread

The decision to become a domestic diva was not a conscious one, but started with fruitcake --- or the absense thereof this year on the shelves of a retailer I always thought could be depended upon.

So that's the fruit, which as been macerating for roughly 18 hours in a half cup of rum. And this will be, among other things, fruitcake day. The lovely thing about fruitcake is that there's no rush. Once baked, it becomes eternal. So with any luck, this will become next year's fruitcake, too.

If you doubt that, the world's oldest known fruitcake, baked in 1878 by Fidelia Bates, remains in her family today, carefully maintained as of 2003 by a great-grandson, Morgan Ford, of Tecumseh, Michigan.

According to a news report I saw just before Christmas, the consumer demand for fruitcake is declining at a rate of about five percent per year, the only truly worrisome sign I've seen lately that America is going to the dogs. This may be why that retailer heretofore favored dropped the offering this year.

This does not bode well for Claxton, Georgia, which advertises itself as the fruitcake capital of the world (Claxton's other claim to fame is the fact that on Dec. 10, 1984, a meteorite fell from the sky above Claxton and struck a mailbox --- the only known direct hit a mailbox ever has taken from a meteorite). Corsicana, Texas, too, where the Collin Street Bakery continues to crank out cake for a nationwide market.

Again, I don't care if you wish me "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas." But I do expect to be served fruitcake.

I have a freezer full of chicken soup, enough to carry me thorough lunch well into January. But soup calls for cornbread, which like fine wine comes in several varieties, each suited for differing purposes. The skillet cornbread recipe that you'll find indexed in the sidebar here works beautifully with vegetable-beef soup.

Chicken, however, calls for something a little lighter, more finely textured and with just a touch of sweetness. So here's the recipe for that. 

1 stick (half cup) butter

2/3 cup white sugar

2 eggs

1 cup buttermilk

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 cup cornmeal

1 cup flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

Melt butter over low heat in a good sized sauce pan and remove from heat. Immediately whisk in sugar, then the two eggs. Add baking soda to buttermilk, then that combination to the sauce pan, and whisk to combine with butter, sugar and eggs. Add salt, cornmeal and flour and stir until thoroughly blended --- but don't overdo it. Pour into buttered 8-inch square baking dish and bake in a pre-heated 375 degree oven for rougly 35 minuetes. All done. 

French pressed

So here I am at 5 a.m. trying to figure out why I whole-heartedly embraced another French press coffee maker after it fell into my arms in the aisles of a bigger-city department store Wednesday. Besides, who knew Mr. Coffee made French presses? Here's the long version of how and why it happened.

When condensing two living spaces at opposite ends of the state into one some years ago, five coffee makers turned up: (1) The big red Cuisinart --- still the main machine (never buy a brightly colored appliance; it will be the one that goes on forever); (2) a Mr. Coffee of comparable size now out on loan; (3) an espresso maker not used often enough to justify shelf space and therefore given away; (4) a nicely made French press, also given away because French presses are so darned fiddly; and (5) a four-cup Mr. Coffee, used for afternoon brews.

I need two coffee makers --- a big one for mornings when caffeine is the principal consideration and taste isn't. The big cans of HyVee or Folgers work fine, since half of that pot gets poured down the drain as the morning progresses. And a smaller one for late afternoon, when something more tasteful is needed but in lesser quantity.

As the years passed, the little Mr. Coffee began to make sizzling and crackling noises. When electrocution or a counter-top fire seemed possible, it went to the landfill --- shortly before Christmas.

So I set out Wednesday to find an afternoon replacement, thinking a one-cup maker would be nice. Keurigs are trendy now and I looked at the absurdly overpriced things and eventually decided that for that amount I could boil water and pour it through grounds myself. Besides, who wants to invest in K-cup packs, too? Yes, I know adapters are available to allow use of regular grind. But the whole Keurig concept, while popular now, probably won't have a long shelf life.

Maybe another four-cup Mr. Coffee? Nah. Then I spotted the cheap Mr. Coffee French presses --- and was smitten --- again. Besides, French presses are green --- sort of: minimal plastic, no paper filters. Years had dimmed the memory of just how fiddly the darned things are.

Here's the deal: A French press produces what probably is the best cup of coffee that can be made. But in order to get there, you have to start with coffee of a coarse enough grind (preferably freshly ground) to alleviate the sludge issue. Pour that into the carafe. Carefully measure and bring almost to a boil an appropriate amount of water and pour over the grounds. Allow to steep. Then press down gently on the filter press plunger, trapping grounds at the bottom and leaving the fresh brew ready for cups at the top. Wonderful!

But this is a ceremonial process, tricky for those not fully awake and therefore more likely to scald themselves. Plus there's no way to keep the fresh coffee hot, so it needs to be consumed promptly. Then there's cleanup, which involves disassembling everything and washing the parts with some care. I also like to save coffee grounds for the garden, which requires another step, this one involving a sieve.

I'm not sure how long this French press is going to last. I'll try it again this afternoon.

But for now, having brewed a mug and a half for photographic purposes, I'm going to fire up the Cuisinart and get those caffeine levels back where they need to be. The quality blend, unfortunately, is now cold and contained in a mug with a gold rim that cannot be microwaved. Down the drain it goes.

On the feast of Stephen ...

"You don't have Boxing Day in the states," said the bishop's mother --- not to drop names or anything --- with mild disapproval as we shared lunch on Sunday. The senior Mrs. Scarfe is spending the holidays in Iowa this year, far from home in Bradford, West Yorkshire, where this the second day of Christmas also is Boxing Day, as throughout the UK.

While we in the States, having exhausted ourselves during the pagan prelude, are ready to rip down the decor, forget this peace-on-earth-good-will business for another year and get back to hollering and shooting at each other, the British are enjoying a second public holiday.

Boxing Day also is one of Britain's biggest shopping days, what with Dec. 26 sales and all, kind of a counterpart to our Black Thursday --- also known in more traditional circles as Thanksgiving.

My Christmas spirit generally revives about Dec. 24 and by the 25th it's time to start listening to carols and enjoying the bright lights. But just when the urge to acquire a poinsettia of my own develops, the florists have stopped watering and are tossing out tattered rejects.  Then the bright lights start going out one by one.

As Scrooge reportedly said, however, I will try at least for a few more days to "honor Christmas in my heart," and may even make more of an effort "to keep it all the year."

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This also is the feast day of St. Stephen, the protomartyr of Christianity, reportedly dispatched with stones hurled by an enraged mob egged on by cranky old Saul of Tarsus, later cranky old St. Paul. See The Acts of The Apostles for details.

I bring this up, because the feast day of St. Stephen is the setting for a favorite carol, "Good King Wenceslas."

 Like an indifferently trained dog, I have very few tricks --- but one of them always has been the ability to sing without reference all the verses of "Good King Wenceslas." I traditionally perform this trick --- without prompting --- at least once a year during the season, at a party, at the office, wherever the spirit moves. I enjoy this hugely; others, not so much.

For those who missed the performance this year --- here's second best: The Irish Rovers:

"Carol"

By Thomas Merton

Flocks feed by darkness with a noise of whispers,

In the dry grass of pastures,

And lull the solemn night with their weak bells.

The little towns upon the rocky hills

Look down as meek as children:

Because they have seen come this holy time.

God's glory, now, is kindled gentler than low candlelight

Under the rafters of a barn:

Eternal Peace is sleeping in the hay,

And Wisdom's born in secret in a straw-roofed stable.

And O! Make holy music in the stars, you happy angels.

You shepherds, gather on the hill.

Look up, you timid flocks, where the three kings

Are coming through the wintry trees;

While we unnumbered children of the wicked centuries

Come after with our penances and prayers,

And lay them down in the sweet-smelling hay

Beside the wise men's golden jars.

Ghosts of Christmas past

I picked a few cards out of the Christmas desk last night, not because they were the prettiest or the best preserved --- just because they interested me. If you want to read more about the Christmas desk and its contents, follow this link.

Look at the telephone in the card at the top. Imagine that the next time you pull out your cell phone. The card was sent to my grandmother, Jessie, by her niece and best friend, Ida (Brown) Rogers, then living on a farm near Miller, South Dakota. The postmark reads, "Dec. 24, 1912." Obviously, my grandmother was a little late getting her Christmas cards out.

The message reads, "Dearest Auntie --- Have been expecting to hear from you; feel very anxious. I am feeling better. Lulu (Corder) and husband (from Cincinnati, Iowa) and three children are here to spend Xmas with us. We're going to have a Xmas tree. Wishing you a Merry Xmas and a Happy N.Y. --- and love, from Ida." The photo below is of my grandmother (left) and Ida, taken a few years earlier.

Here's another card from Ida, this one not postmarked. It must have been mailed inside an envelope. In the spot allocated for a stamp, Ida has written "anxious to hear from you." Grandmother, most likely, was late with her cards again. Here's the remainder of the message:

"My Dearest Auntie: How I wish our families could spend Xmas together. I haven't gotten over the disappointment of your not coming. I sure would come back there to spend Xmas if I could, but it's too cold and too hard a trip in winter with 3 little ones. They all have bad colds now, especially Esther. Were are having real winter weather --- zero to 15 or 20 below of mornings. The ground is covered with snow, but Garrett, Archie, Vera & Grace haven't missed a day of school! Lette (James Galette Rogers)  got them a dandy $10 foot warmer for the buggy. Hope you are all well. I haven't been well since summer. Am so thin. I wanted to get you a letter before Xmas but won't now. Children are on program at Xmas tree. That means new dresses! Lovingly, Ida."

The next card was sent to Grandmother Jessie by her sister-in-law, Elizabeth (Miller) Mason, some time after 1915 but before 1920. My grandparents lived in English Township. Lizzie and Albert Mason and their children, in Benton Township --- south of Brush College school. Here's the message:

"Dear Sister: I'd like to be with you Chrismas day, but don't see how I can. I hope you are all well and will enjoy Christmas. I suppose we'll be at home that day. We are mighty glad to be at home these cold days. It takes lots of coal to keep us from freezing. Ray is cold nearly all day long, (except) while he is in bed asleep. We are all reasonably well. Ustel is going to have to go to Des Moines to get a growth taken out of his ear. Lizzie to Jessie."

The final card was sent to my Uncle Joe Miller by his cousins, Vera, Grace and Esther Rogers --- daughters of Ida and Lette, above, again some time between 1910 and 1920. It's as effective now as then in conveying a message, "To greet You at Christmas with all good wishes!"

American song: I wonder as I wander ....

A simple melody is the magic in this lovely Appalachian carol as it effortlessly communicates the action described in its opening lyric, "I wonder as I wander out under the sky ...."

A memory also comes to mind every time I hear it. When in fourth or fifth grade at Russell, our teacher arranged a Christmas exchange with a class of counterparts somewhere in the hills of Kentucky. Our parents had some money; their parents, less. So we sent toys and warm clothing south. In return, the Kentucky children sent north a big cardboard box filled with fragrant greens unfamiliar in southern Iowa, including holly and mistletoe.

The words and melody were composed by John Jacob Niles, a folklorist and singer, who collected three lines of verse and a melodic fragment upon which it is based from a young girl named Annie Morgan during 1933 in Murphy, North Carolina.

I especially like this arrangement of the melody for hammered dulcimer and guitar.

I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die
For poor on'ry people like you and like I;
I wonder as I wander out under the sky

When Mary birthed Jesus 'twas in a cow's stall
With wise men and farmers and shepherds and all
But high from God's heaven, a star's light did fall
And the promise of ages it then did recall.

If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing
A star in the sky or a bird on the wing
Or all of God's Angels in heaven to sing
He surely could have it, 'cause he was the King

I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die
For poor on'ry people like you and like I;
I wonder as I wander out under the sky

Granola bars & exploding Pyrex

Granola bars were crisping at 350 degrees in a favorite Pyrex 9x13 Friday when I sat down to read the article behind this MSNBC headline: "Kitchen calamity: Reports of shattering cookwear on the rise." Holy chocolate chip! As if there weren't enough to worry about.

The story opens with an exploding egg casserole at a Michigan Grandma's Christmas brunch and goes on from there. The long and the short of it is, manufacturers of glass cookware no longer use the type of glass that made Grandma's Pyrex pie plate safe as cast iron. The new type of glass is prone to breakage if mishandled. Doesn't happen often, but it does.

So when the timer went off, I put on welding goggles and body armor, donned elbow-length potholder gauntlets and threw a thick towel over the bars before lifting them gently from the oven. Not.

But I did place the hot pan on two potholders, as advised in the article, rather than plopping it down on the cold stone cutting board where it usually goes. An abrupt shift from hot surface to cold is believed to result now and then in Pyrex or Anchor Hocking shrapnel.

So I'm eating a homemade granola bar right now, with orange juice --- the alternative when not up to preparing Mother Nature's most perfect breakfast: Oatmeal with honey and peanut butter. Here's the recipe:

3 cups old-fashioned Quaker Oats

1 cup flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

2/3 cup butter

2 teaspoons vanilla

1/2 cup honey

1/3 cup brown sugar

1 cup miniature M&Ms or miniature chocolate chips

1 cup chopped nuts

1/2 cup dried cranberries

1/2 cup chopped dates

1/2 cup chopped dried pineapple

1. Mix the oats, flour and baking soda thoroughly in a large bowl.

2. Add the M&Ms, nuts, cranberries, dates, pineapple or any other combination that appeals to you and mix well.

3. Melt the butter with vanilla, honey and brown sugar in a sauce pan and blend well. Add liquid to the dry ingredients and mix well.

4. Place the mixture into a buttered 9x13 baking dish and press firmly to even out. Place in pre-heated 325-degree oven and bake 20-25 minutes.

5. Remove from oven (carefully), place pan on potholders or a thick towel, wait about 10 minutes before cutting into bars (I use a pizza cutter), then allow to cool thoroughly before removing from pan.

Peace on earth

The snow lays on the ground here this morning. Nash was backing the pickup out into the street, headed for work, when I opened the front door; the McFarland Christmas tree, brightly lighted; and the season has turned into winter --- but most significantly, toward spring.

Church bells will ring out here and there this morning in memory of those slain a week ago in Newtown, Connecticut.

This lovely remembrance, performed Dec. 15, is a collaboration between the Los Angeles Gay Men's Chorus and children of the Creative Planet School of Arts. It incorporates the 1941 carol "The Little Drummer Boy" and a counterpoint, "Peace on Earth." The combination was introduced during 1977 for joint performance by the late Bing Crosby and David Bowie.

Here are the lyrics:

Chorus

Come they told me pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
A new-born king to see pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Our finest gifts we bring pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Rum-pum-pum-pum, rum-pum-pum-pum

Children: Peace on Earth, can it be
Chorus: Come they told me pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Children: Years from now, perhaps we'll see
Chorus: A new-born king to see pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Children: See the day of glory
Chorus: Our finest gifts we bring pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Children: See the day, when men of good will
Chorus: To lay before the king pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Children: Live in peace, live in peace again
Chorus: Rum-pum-pum-pum, rum-pum-pum-pum
Children: Peace on Earth,
Chorus: So to honour him pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Children: Can it be
Chorus: When we come

Children & Chorus: Every child must be made aware
Every child must be made to care
Care enough for his fellow man
To give all the love that he can

Children: I pray my wish will come true
Chorus: Little baby pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Children: For my child and your child too
Chorus: I stood beside him there pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Children: He'll see the day of glory
Choir: I played my drum for him pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Children: See the day when men of good will
Choir: I played my best for him pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
David: Live in peace, live in peace again
Children: Rum-pum-pum-pum, rum-pum-pum-pum
Choir: Peace on Earth,
Children: And he smiled at me pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
Choir: Can it be

Now, can all of God's children --- of countless colors and cultures, many faiths and none, gay and straight, all around this wonderful world of ours, say, "Amen"?

American song: Huron Carol

One of the loveliest American carols also is perhaps the earliest: "Jesous Ahatonhia" in the Huron/Wendat language, "Twas in the Moon of Wintertime" in its adapted English version --- or simply "Huron Carol." It is very familiar in Canada, not so familiar in the United States.

The lyrics were written during 1643 in the Huron/Wendat language by Fr. Jean de Brebeuf, Jesuit missionary among Canada's First Nations people for nearly a quarter century, who set it to the tune of a French folk song.

The English lyrics, written in 1926 by Jesse Edgar Middleton, are based upon De Brebeuf's original but are not an exact translation. Middleton blended De Brebeuf's telling of the nativity story with Huron religious concepts, the Algonquian term for God, Gitchi Manitou, and imagery familiar to speakers of English. Jesus is born, for example, in a lodge of broken bark and wrapped in a robe of rabbit skin.

De Brebeuf was widely respected among the Huron, but not so much by the Iroquois, who dispatched him rather dramatically during March of 1649. He was canonized St. Jean de Brebouf in 1930 and now is considered one of Canada's patrons.

The carol is performed here by First Nations activist Tom Jackson. Jackson, widely known as actor, performer and activist in Canada, is little known in the more insular United States. This clip provides insights into his life and work.

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A blizzard was forecast yesterday for the south of Iowa and a modest blizzard we have this early morning, atlhough the snow total down here so far is about an inch (rain turned to snow late). But the wind is roaring and much of that is in the air.

The threat of snow brings out the pioneer in us: Everyone drives to the grocery store. I went twice, in late morning for milk (always buy milk when a blizzard is predicted, whether you drink it or not) and in late afternoon for Windex. One would not want to be cut off by a storm without Windex --- and an adequate supply of paper towels.

Although the big Hy-Vee construction project has caused minimal disruption of traditional parking practices in the big lot, we behave as if it has. It was a dangerous place to be Wednesday.

Inside, folks who hadn't see each other for hours stood blocking traffic in narrowed aisles surrounded by sheets of black plastic speculating about how bad it was going to be. I may connect the front-step rail and the bird feeder ash tree with a rope just in case livestock needs feeding.

Tombs with a view I: Newbern Cemetery

On the one hand, it doesn't seem fair that the dead live with one of Lucas County's best views. On the other, if this high point above the White Breast Creek valley weren't occupied by a cemetery, it most likely would be occupied by a rural McMansion, fenced, screened and restricted. As it is, anyone can unlatch the Newbern Cemetery's east gate, walk back to its northwest corner, take a deep breath and just look.

According to local lore, the Rev. Joseph Howard, farmer and Cumberland Presbyterian preacher who arrived in the Newbern vicinity in 1850 and was the first EuroAmerican to claim this spot, allowed a traveler to be buried on the highest spot of his farm, starting the cemetery. He deeded the land to the public in 1871 and additions have been made since. He died during 1875 and is buried here, too.

The cemetery straddles the Lucas/Warren county line a mile and a half west of Newbern village, but the road from one to the other is not straight, so a few twists and turns are required. That's the county line road cutting due west across the White Breast and into the distant hills between two tombstones at the top here.

And two views to the northwest. The town of Lacona is visible in the distance to the far left and the White Breast Pottery, visited on this fall's Farm Crawl, closer --- in the valley just to the right.

The oldest sections of the Newbern Cemetery are for the most part full, so an annex guarded by a sentinel oak has been added to the east, on the Warren County side of the line.

The White Breast and its tributaries have carved some of Lucas County's deepest and most beautiful valleys and, if truth be told, the creek itself is more photogenic than our namesake Chariton River. Some ask why then White Breast is "just" a creek then and the Chariton, grandly designated a river.

This probably has something to do with length. The Chariton, which rises in Clarke County just to the west of Lucas, stretches 218 miles before entering the Missouri River deep in its namesake state. The White Breast rises in eastern Union County, also to Lucas County's west, but has only 91 miles to cut its way down to the Des Moines River to our northeast. As a result, the cuts are deeper and more scenic.

Most of our EuroAmerican pioneers came into Lucas County overland from the east. But their predecessors here followed the courses of streams and because of its size and proximity to the broad Des Moines, the White Breast valley may have been the most popular route in and out.

So if you walk out to the Newbern Cemetery overlook to enjoy the view, you're probably following in footsteps that stretch back thousands of years and standing where countless others have stood as the centuries passed.

American song: Corn, Water & Wood

I'm shopping around for American Christmas songs this year, mostly because it's fun to do that. But also because I have this not-very-well-developed theory that many American expressions of Christianity, despite their apparent strengths, aren't rooted deeply enough in the American landscape to be sustainable and therefore are susceptible to being swept away by the next spring twister. I'll work more on this line of thought.

But I really like this not especially old song that lifts the legend of the three magi out of Mideast mythology and resettles it gently in America's arid Southwest, replacing the grandiosity of gold, frankincense and myrrh with corn, water and wood. It's a uniquely American retelling expressed in a uniquely American musical genre.

The song was co-written by Wendy Waldman and Carol Elliot not long before this performance was recorded. Riders in the Sky (how about them costumes?) perform it here. Michael Martin Murphey may have been first to do so. For those who follow such things, it's a song that also earned the Wrangler Award from the National Cowboy Hall of Fame.

The chicken soup cure

Chicken soup reportedly is good for what ails us, and considering the circumstances of the last week a massive infusion is called for. I have issues with canned soup, however --- too little flavor; too much salt. This recipe makes me happy. I call it Mexican Chicken Soup, but doubt a Mexican cook would recognize it. It has a lot of flavor, but only a modest bite. It also has very little salt, which is a good thing.

This also fits into my feeding strategy, adopted (a) because I live alone, (b) because I don't like frozen entrees and (c) because I'm not that fond of slabs of meat. So once a week or so I make a big casserole and a big pot of soup, divide same into containers big enough to hold a serving or two, freeze much of it and then eat essentially the same thing all week: Soup or casserole for lunch or supper along with salad, bread and fresh fruit. Those who like hotter may add pepper sauce or otherwise fiddle with the ingredients. Here's the recipe:

INGREDIENTS

2 whole boneless, skinless chicken breasts

4 cups water

1 tablespoon canola oil

1 medium onion chopped

2 or more celery stalks chopped

4 or more cloves garlic minced or pressed

2 14-and-a-half ounce cans chopped tomatoes (flavored if you like)

1 8-ounce can tomato sauce

1 cup salsa of whatever strength you prefer

3 smallish zucchini halved and sliced

2 large carrots sliced

1 cup white corn

1 4-ounce can chopped green chilies

3 teaspoons ground cumin

2 teaspoons chili powder

1 teaspoon dried basil

METHOD

1. Place chicken breasts in soup pot or big dutch oven, add 4 cups of water, bring to a boil, reduce heat to simmer, cover and cook 20 minutes or so until done through.

2. Remove chicken and set aside to cool slightly. Reserve broth in another container.

3. Add canola oil, onions, celery and garlic to the soup pot and cook over medium heat until translucent and tender.

4. Cut chicken into half-inch cubes and return to soup pot along with reserved broth. Add the remaining 10 ingredients.

5. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover pot and simmer for half an hour or so until carrots are tender and flavors are blended.

6. This can be served with sour cream, tortilla chips and shredded cheese --- if you like. The soup also freezes well.

Thomas M. Dunshee: By T.M. Dunshee

Thomas Marshall Dunshee, his wife, Susan, their daughter, Luie Evalee (Dunshee) Williamson and T. M. Dunshee's brother, James Allen Dunshee, are buried at Spring Hill Cemetery in English Township. Their son, James "Jimmy" Bonar, who died in 1873, is buried at nearby Brownlee Cemetery, the first English Township buriying ground.
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This is the thirteenth in a series of biographical sketches and articles written or edited by Thomas M. Dunshee between 1903, when he began collecting the material, and 1910, when he finished entering the sketches in a small blue "tablet" notebook now in the Lucas County Historical Society collection. The subjects all were fellow pioneers in the Newbern neighborhood of English Township, Lucas County.

THOMAS MARSHALL DUNSHEE

By T.M. Dunshee

Soon after the war of the thirteen colonies with England, there came to the United States two Irish boys, William & Thomas Dunshee, of age of eighteen and twenty, from County Down, Ireland, landing in New York City. They sought employment in the metropolis; failing in this, they turned their steps westward, William going out into the unsettled regions of York State; Thomas pushing out to the frontier of western Pennsylvania. (He) settled in Washington county, twelve miles from the city of Pittsburgh. The brothers never met afterward.

Thomas Dunshee was able to purchase a piece of land which he improved. After a time he married Mary McLoney, of Irish descent. They had six children: William, Luke, James, Thomas, John and Margaret. James Dunshee was born in Washington County, Penn., May 26, 1813. When he was eighteen years old his parents emigrated to Richland Couty, Ohio, and bought a farm near Lexington on the clear fork Mohican. Here they lived until their deaths.

James Dunshee, their son, at the age of thirty years was married to Mary Moore Marshall, whose age was twenty years, a daughter of James and Janet Marshall of Richland or Knox county, Ohio. James Dunshee and wife lived on the home place near Lexington for several years. Here Thomas Marshall was born Feb. 2, 1845.

In the fall of 1853 they sold their place and moved to Iowa by covered wagon, a distance of 600 miles, where they landed in Washington County, Iowa, late one evening in October, remaining over winter. The next spring, in May, they moved to Davis County, Iowa, on a farm of 160 acres purchased of James Gass one mile east of Troy. Here James lived for thirty-two years and died April 19, 1886. He was a prominent figure among the early settlers of Davis County. Thomas Marshall lived on the home place until he was twenty-three years of age excepting four years spent as clerk in a drygooods house in Troy.

He was married February 20, 1868, to Susan Bonar of Richland County, Ohio. She was born September 23, 1843, of Irish and German descent. They moved by covered wagon to Lucas County where they landed the 14th day of March 1868 and settled on land purchased of Calvin Alexander in section seventeen of English Township.

On coming to the township, they placed their letters of membership with the Presbyterian Church of Chariton, but in the fall of 1869 at the organization of the First Presbyterian Church of English they were among the charter members of that church. In politics he is a Democrat.

English Township was comparatively new when the Dunshee family in the spring of 1868 sought a home within her borders. Must of the land was still covered with the native prairie grass. Very few of the old settlers of forty-two years ago are to be seen today. Their familiar faces are gone, many rest under the sod in the neighborhood where their presence used to be a plasure to their friends.

Mr. and Mrs. Dunshee have had seven children born to them: Luie Evalee, James Bonar, Charley Allen, William Barnett, Fred, Frank and Mable. James Bonar died in infancy.

Thomas Hall: By T.M. Dunshee

This is the twelfth in a series of biographical sketches and articles written or edited by Thomas M. Dunshee between 1903, when he began collecting the material, and 1910, when he finished entering the sketches in a small blue "tablet" notebook now in the Lucas County Historical Society collection. The subjects all were fellow pioneers in the Newbern neighborhood of English Township, Lucas County. Thomas Hall is the only one of the pioneers not buried in Lucas County.

THOMAS HALL

By His Daughter

January 1904

Thomas Hall was born in Jefferson county, Tennessee, April 29, 1818. He came to Iowa in 1856, and settled in Ottercreek Township, Lucas County. Then moved to English Township in 1858, and resided there untill 1881. He then moved to Page county, Iowa, and lived there until 1886.

At that time he determined to try the South once more. So him and his wife started to move by covered wagon to Arkansas. He was taken sick on the road and after an illness of a few days died Sept. 24th, 1886, and was buried at Mountain View Cemetery, Missouri. His wife returned to Clarinda, Page county, and lived with her daughter until her death, which occurred March 20th, 1889. She was buried there.

Uncle Tommy Hall, as he was known to many of the old settlers thirty-five and forty years ago, was a member of the Christian Union church, was a Democrat, a man of kind disposition and pleasant manners, inclined to look on the bright side of many crosses of life. His early years and on up to middle life were spent in his native state. He lived twenty-three years in English township, mostly on Sections 16 and 20.

Santa and the south of Iowa

The orignal came from Alan Jackson & The Chipmunks. Performers here are from Alamo, Tennessee. But it looks and sounds like the south of Iowa to me. Christmas Eve's a week away --- no snow in sight.

Ogees, stars & my BFCF in Newbern

The purity of its simple exterior, an amazing ogee roofline on the bell tower and to cap it all that unexpected star of David skewered by the turret's finial add up to make this my current BFCF (best favorite church forever). Contributing are the building's ability to survive in such good shape although its congregation officially departed in 1993 --- and its location in Newbern, a ghost town that really isn't.

Newbern Community Church from the northwest.

This is the Newbern Community Church and it has survived federation, renovation, being knocked off its foundation by a tornado and the diaspora by death and other factors of its people.

Newbern itself is very old by southern Iowa standards, only two years younger than Chariton. It was surveyed for Ransom Davis on Sept. 9, 1851 --- 24 blocks around a town square that later became the location of the school, then a ball diamond. It is as close as it can be to Lucas County without actually being in it --- Newbern's south limit is the Lucas/Marion county line road.

Streets were named from north to south Water, Poplar, Main and Washington; and from east to west, First through Sixth. Although only a few houses, the church and the first floor of the old brick Stierwalt Store remain, a significant portion of the street grid is evident --- and usable.

The remaining first floor of the Stierwalt Store, under a new pitched roof, is in the middle distance here.

When founded, Newbern was located on high, level, unbroken tallgrass prairie. But just to the west, settlers hit timber first, then a sharp descent into the beautiful White Breast Creek valley. Bricks for the Stierwalt store reportedly were burned from clay gathered along White Breast Creek.

The Newbern Road snaked south from the village to Chariton and a similar early track connected Newbern and Knoxville, the Marion County seat.

Although it developed into a lively trading center for a tri-county neighborhood (Warren County is just to the west), failure to attract a rail line caused its eventual decline. The Stierwalt Store was the last business in town. Now its remains are part of a workshop.

The church from the southwest.

The church, serving one of three congregations in Newbern at the time, was built by Methodists during the winter of 1908 and spring of 1909 at a cost of $3,112. It was dedicated on May 9, 1909, during services at 10 a.m. and 7:30 p.m. with a former pastor, the Rev. E.O. Douglas of Madrid, as dedicatory preacher.

A newspaper account of the dedication declared the church building to be "a well built and attractive structure, a gem of beauty in its exterior and a joy to Methodism and the community." The building looks much as it did when dedicated, although a tall arched window once was located where the exterior chimney now stands on the west facade.

I'd like to know who commissioned the ogee roofline of the bell tower, unique so far as I know in southern Iowa. It remains as built, clad in pressed metal. The star of David is fascinating. Many protestants of this era were skittish about displaying crosses --- lest they be mistaken for Catholic --- but stars were not usual either. Perhaps it's just the remnant of a weathervane. Should have been carrying binoculars.

According to notes compiled by Evalee Hunerdosse, the last active member of the congregation, Newbern's three congregations united to form one federated congregation during 1920. The other congregations were Cumberland Presbyterian and United Brethren. The Methodist Church building, in the best shape, became the new congregation's worship center; the Presbyterian building, a meeting place for young people; and the United Brethren building, a meeting place for women.

The church was furnished with pews from both the Presbyterian and Methodist congregations, the Methodist communion table and the United Brethren altar rail, pulpit and chairs, according to Evalee. It became the Newbern Community Church in 1943.

The church from the southeast with its unisex restroom.

The exterior door now located midway along the south front was installed as a safety measure after a fire involving a gas lantern in the vestibule during 1929. In order to escape that fire, several had exited through windows.

In 1943, the building was knocked off its foundations by a tornado, but moved back into place. Electricity, according to Evalee, was added in 1948.

The church from the northeast.

The building continued to serve its congregation until 1993 when the supply of people simply ran out. Evalee and Jesse Hunerdosse maintained the building until his death and her move to Newton. As of 2005, according to Evalee's notes, my cousin Colene Greubel had assumed responsibilty for administering the building and maintaining it as a museum and site for an annual reunion. I do not know what its current status is, although it seems to be in a very good state of repair.