Roadkill Crossing

Back to the 60s, if only for an evening

By Bruce Stambaugh

My wife, Neva, and I had been asked to host the dessert portion of a progressive supper for our church’s small youth group. Given her gift of hospitality, Neva quickly accepted the offer.

The group had been to two other homes before arriving at our place for the 1960s themed desserts. Neva made finger Jell-O, Rice Krispies bars and pistachio cake baked in an authentic bunt pan. We added some 60s era candies that I found in a local store, and had Kool Aid to drink.

We wanted to get the kids in the 60s tempo as best we could by making the house look cool, you know. Neva loves to decorate, and she did a groovy job this time. In fact, I don’t know where she came up with all the 60s stuff she displayed.

Peace signs drawn on paper plates dangled from the dining room light fixture. Party balloons, secured in a paper bag festooned with smiley faces, and a smiley face Pez dispenser adorned the dining room table.

I found a magazine completely dedicated to Bobby Kennedy that I had sequestered. I also brought out an old black and white 8 x 10 photo that my late father had framed for me. It was a shot of a fellow Plain Dealer intern and myself dressed as hippies. That’s a 1969 story for another time.

Neva hung a few clothes we had saved from the 60s, including a lacy dress and a checkered sports jacket. I also resurrected my senior year high school letter jacket. It still looked like new, while I don’t. But I can still fit into it.

Neva also exhibited a variety of purses she had from the 60s along with a few pieces of china. She also found an old dress pattern in its original package.

The center of attention in the living room was a treasure trove timeline of 60s items. Included were some Archie and the Gang comic books, popular children’s books from the era, a Winnie the Pooh bear, and of course a small collection of Beatles record albums. It was a shame we no longer had a record player on which to play them.

The real treat came when the 10 teenagers arrived. Most were dressed in cool clothing from the 60s obtained at thrift stores. Psychedelic T-shirts and paisley dresses and shirts were suddenly back in vogue, if only for the evening. One savvy dude somehow found a brown checked suit that perfectly fit him.

We briefly explained the reason for the dessert offerings, and the food was quickly consumed. Other Baby Boomer adults also attended to help share their growing up experiences.

It was during that time that the real spirit of the turbulent 60s was revealed. The kids seemed spellbound by the personal stories. And well they should. The 1960s were a tumultuous, passionate time of change, drama and societal conflict. Reliving those long forgotten moments seemed to energize everyone in attendance.

Of course, one of the adults, no names mentioned, went a little long. Nevertheless, the kids courteously listened to what was said, and their attire certainly helped everyone feel in the mood.

Oh, yes, I forgot to mention my skinny knit tie, white shirt, white socks, mohair sweater, and rolled up blue jeans that I wore. Other than the hippie outfit, it may have been the only other time in my life that I was considered cool. Or were they just being kind?

Peace, baby!

High school jackets by Bruce Stambaugh — My high school letter jacket and my late father's state championship baseball jacket. Dad coached the team.

Timing is everything, especially when birding

By Bruce Stambaugh

The weather was dreary and cold, with occasional snow flurries. It was just another winter’s day in Holmes County, Ohio as far as I was concerned. But it turned out to be so much more than that.

I drove the nine miles east to check on my mother, who lives in a local nursing home. I kept my visit short as usual, making sure I had refilled Mom’s bowl of jellybeans before I said goodbye.

As I was driving home a flash of white caught my attention to the right just east of Berlin, center of the world’s largest Amish population. Besides the color, the bird’s large wings, small head and short tail were all instantly noticeable.

I checked traffic and slowed my vehicle. The bird’s rapid, steady flight cut directly across my path right to left, giving me a full, close view for nearly a minute.

By its distinctive wingbeats, its size and color, I reckoned it was a Snowy Owl. Given my situation, I had no other choice. I had to keep alert driving, yet I tried to keep my eyes on this rare bird.

Ospreys at Corolla NC by Bruce Stambaugh — While vacationing in Corolla, NC, I happened upon this pair of Ospreys building a nest on a rooftop.

I didn’t have either my binoculars or camera along. The only thing to do was to keep driving and hope that I could spot it again as I made my way west through town.

Snowy Owls recently had been reported all across the midwestern part of the country, including Ohio. This was far south of their normal winter range. Experts speculated that the owls came in search of food. Normally nocturnal, Snowy Owls will hunt in the daytime when stressed by hunger.

As I motored through two signal lights and the usual clog of traffic in the busy unincorporated village, I kept looking south. I spotted the bird off and on, and saw it gliding as if it was going to land southwest of town.

Once I reached the open area west of Berlin, I again found the white owl, this time flapping its large wings. As I headed down the hill colloquially dubbed Joe T. hill, I lost sight of this magnificent bird. I didn’t know if it had landed or flown out of sight.

My only option had been to observe every detail of the bird that I could while driving. In the birding world, that process is called reckoning, meaning noting the birds shape, size, flight pattern, and behavior.

To be sure of my sighting, I consulted several bird books when I got home. They confirmed what I had seen. I reported the sighting to the rare bird alert. That way others in the area might see the owl, too.

That’s the way birders are. Half the joy of watching birds is sharing what is seen with others.

Amish boys biking by Bruce Stambaugh — Young Amish boys like these young men often will bike miles to go birding.

Ohio’s Amish country is blessed with an abundance of excellent birders, many of them in their early teens. It is not uncommon for them to get a group together, and bike for miles to go birding for a day.

They keep track of what they see, species, numbers and locations. And if they happen to spot an unusual bird, the word gets spread quickly so others may enjoy the opportunity as well.

In this case, I couldn’t believe my good fortune to be at just the right place at just the right time to see a Snowy Owl. I considered myself extremely fortunate to have seen this rare bird.

When birding, like so many other situations in life, timing is everything.

Fireplaces provide benefits far beyond warmth

By Bruce Stambaugh

When I asked if anyone wanted to help bring in wood for the fireplace, only one person volunteered. Our two-year old granddaughter said she wanted to help.

On went her hat, coat, mittens, and the mini-muck boots that her older brothers wore when they were her age. Maren followed me around like a miniature shadow, constantly asking questions.

To play along, I asked questions too, like what color the blue wheelbarrow was. “Yellow,” she said without hesitation. I wheeled it behind the shed to the winter’s stacked wood supply.

I carefully tossed the split hardwood into the wheelbarrow. Of course, Maren wanted to imitate her Poppy. I handed her the kindling pieces. Now and then I gave her a weightier one, and the sharp little blonde quickly let me know that it was “too heavy.”

Maren hung in there like a trooper despite the cold. The tip of her nose turned red within minutes, quickly followed by her cheeks. She never complained, just kept helping to load and unload the wood from pile to wheelbarrow to garage. She even learned where the “little ones” went and correctly deposited them all on her own, while Poppy stacked the heavy pieces just outside the door to the family room.

Gathering wood is just one of the satisfying rituals of having a fireplace. The effort reaps more than needed wood. I enjoy the exercise, and find the aromatic discharge from the chimney invigorating as it mingles with the cold air. I even gain a certain satisfaction in watching the light smoke swirl from the top of the stubby brick chimney. Altogether it spells contentment.

Indeed, having a fireplace is really all about enjoyment. A fireplace may be inefficient. But I savor the all-inclusive ambiance of a blazing fire, its fragrance, its crackling sounds, the penetrating warmth and the simple beauty of a dancing fire.

There is nothing quite like the pure warmth of a fireplace fire to take the chill off of a frosty fall evening, to enhance the beauty of a snowbound day in Amish country, or to free you from the numbness of a damp and miserable spring day. In each situation, I sit in front of the fire until my bones are warmed.

Watching the fire flicker away in multiple colors, constantly changing shape and posture, and occasionally spraying golden sparks warms both body and soul. When family is home, like they were at the holidays, the fireplace becomes the center of activity except at mealtime, unless roasted hotdogs and toasted marshmallows are on the menu.

I think I got this affection for fireplaces from my father. On rare occasion, he would light a fire in the living room fireplace at home. When that happened, it was truly a special family time.

Each home we have owned has had a fireplace for all of the aforementioned reasons. Even our cottage, which my parents built, has two fireplaces, one on the main floor, and one in the walk out basement.

At home I buy my firewood each year, usually from a local farmer. It provides his family with extra income, and my family and me with immeasurable joy. Since the cottage is built in an expansive woods, we gather and split dead wood for our fireplace.

We often have a firewood frolic to get the job done there. The neighbor volunteers his hydraulic splitter. I round up some young, willing helper who enjoys showing off his youthful prowess to lift the heavy logs. My expertise is stacking the split wood just so.

Having a fireplace may be considered a luxury in some corners, an inefficient heating effort in others. I take a different view. Added altogether, the affable socialization, the exhilarating labor, the fire’s soothing pleasantries, yield rewarding results.

If your granddaughter helps bring in the wood, it’s all the better.

2012 calendar looks to be a bit on the crazy side

By Bruce Stambaugh

We were having a right nice 2012 until January 13th arrived. Of course, it was a Friday, the day the first disruptive snowstorm of the season hit the northeast Ohio area.

Until then, the winter weather had been more like early spring. People reported dandelions and forsythia blooming. I even saw a pussy willow bush ready to open. One person bragged about mowing the lawn at the end of December.

Then along came Friday the 13th. Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not blaming the snowstorm on that supposedly superstitious day. In fact I’m not even superstitious, knock on wood.

I had to wonder though if this was going to be the first of several goofy events, either natural or human induced, to occur in 2012. I’m only thinking this because of the way the year’s universal calendar plays out.

Besides the Friday the 13th snowstorm, this is also a leap year. People born on February 29 will finally get to celebrate their birthdays again. February, the shortest month of the year even with Leap Day, has five Wednesdays this year. September has its usual 30 days, and five of them are Sundays.

Of the 12 months, three begin on a Sunday, one on a Monday, one on a Tuesday, two on a Wednesday, two on a Thursday, one on a Friday and two on a Saturday. I think we can thank the Leap Year phenomenon again for making sure no day got ignored.

Other oddities include Washington’s Birthday and Ash Wednesday coinciding. April Fools’ Day and Palm Sunday share the same date. A full moon occurs on Good Friday. August is the only month that has two full moons, August 2 and 31. September’s full moon also occurs on the last day of the month.

Unless you have been hiding in a cave, you have long figured out that 2012 is also a presidential election year. Given the candidates performances so far, that alone would make 2012 a bit tilted.

To add to the calendar party, we have to mention the Mayan calendar references December 21 as being the day the world ends. That day just happens to be this year’s winter solstice. Maybe we won’t have to worry about winter anymore.

Of course, as we learned last year and a thousand times before, the Mayans can’t claim title to announcing the end of time. Harold Camping still has some explaining to do from last year’s fruitless end-times predictions.

Playing off the fears of an already unsettled global society, the goofiness goes on. For instance, one claim for this year is that a previously unknown planet will hit Earth. Right, and the Cleveland Indians will beat the Chicago Cubs in the World Series thanks to an assist by Steve Bartman.

Another oddball prediction has the Earth’s magnetic poles switching places, sparked by a series of solar storms. Better stock up on sunscreen before the prices go up.

There is yet one more piece of information that just might sway you to cash in all your stocks, sell your property and give the proceeds to a respectable charity. Of course it involves Friday the 13th. There are three of them in 2012, January 13, April 13 and July 13.

That in itself may not be so statistically unusual until you hear what my friend, Mic, discovered. The three Friday the 13ths are each 13 weeks apart.

To quote my good friend, “Be forewarned.”

Checking the roads and the scenery

By Bruce Stambaugh

When I moved to Holmes County, Ohio more than four decades ago, one of my initial purchases was a county road map. I wanted to learn my way around the ridges, valleys and hamlets of the area.

I drove both the highways and back roads in order to get to know the topography and citizenry of this place. Geography buff that I am, landscape variations between the glaciated and the unglaciated portions of the county greatly intrigued me.

I marveled equally at the steep wooded hills that defined the broad Killbuck Valley, and the rolling farmlands and rivulets in the county’s northern section. The common elements of picturesque scenery and practical people reoccurred despite the demographic differences.

All these years later I still drive the roads, still learn, still enjoy my bucolic and human encounters. I think about that often, especially when I inspect the roads for which I am responsible as a township trustee.

My main objective is to ensure safe road conditions, and check for potential problems like plugged culverts, leaning trees and slippery roads. I do those duties, but the pastoral vistas and the genial people I encounter along the way can easily distract me. I don’t mind in the least. The diversity of the countryside and characters in my township are truly remarkable.

My regular route takes me up hill and down vale, through densely wooded ravines with sharply slanting walls that rise abruptly on both sides. In several places road and stream are pinched with just enough room to navigate side-by-side.

In minutes, I can motor from forested valley to high, rolling fertile fields that surround coffin red bank barns and white farmhouses. Various shapes and sizes of purposeful farm buildings cluster around the intentionally unadorned agrarian castles.

It was inevitable that over the years the views would be altered. With the population regularly expanding and the land not, cottage businesses and manufacturing buildings sprouted up out of necessity. Many are Amish run and involve some aspect of the lumber industry. Other shops create products specifically for the benefit of the Amish lifestyle, like buggy shops and farriers.

The commerce is nice. The views and residents are better.

Near one of my favorite hilltops, the land falls away gradually, cascading toward the Killbuck lowlands. It is a sacred place for me, and yet it is at this precise spot where a new Amish country murder mystery novel is set. When I read about the book’s release, I wondered if the writer had ever met the good folks on the homestead he had impugned.

Last winter, during a fierce snowstorm, a semi-tractor trailer truck got stuck on the slippery incline in front of this very farmstead. The kind farmer cranked up his bulldozer, puttered out the long lane in blinding snow and pushed the teamster and his rig over the hill and on his way.

When it comes to beauty, seasons are really insignificant as I traverse my lovely township. Refreshing summer breezes flap wash lines loaded with pastel clothing. Gaggles of youth skate and play on frozen ponds. A Golden Eagle roosts on a chubby fence post. Leafy rainbows of the mixed hardwoods compete with those in post-storm skies.

Then, too, rounds from paintball guns plaster stop signs, runaway streams wash away road banks, and citizens rankle at impassible roads. Fear not. Repairs can be made, relationships mended.

Peace is restored to my Camelot, at least until my next dreamy drive.

Better late than not at all: Humbly accepting the Versatile Blogger Award

By Bruce Stambaugh

Last March, I was honored to receive an award I really didn’t know what to do with. I had only been blogging for three months, and I wasn’t sure if this was legitimate or the blogger’s version of a chain letter.

Aaron Graham was nice enough to bestow the Versatile Blogger Award on me after he read my Questions post. And for my more cynical readers, I have never met nor do I know Aaron. He adequately described the award and why I received it, along with a few others. In accepting this coveted award, all I had to do was write a post thanking Aaron. I also had to proclaim seven little known facts about myself, which would have been a piece of cake since I am so little known to start with. And I had to hand out the same award to up to 15 other bloggers. In my naiveté, I wasn’t sure I knew 15 other bloggers. Sure, I had more people than that visit my blog, and several posted comments. I could have easily gone back through those comments, clicked on their blog and christened the 15 I felt most deserving as fellow Versatile Bloggers. But I didn’t.

You see one of my many faults, and my kind wife will attest that it is only one, is that I procrastinate. I wrote about that, too, once. But that was long before I starting blogging. Still, the days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and here we are in 2012 and I still haven’t passed on the award the way I should have. Until now.

What spurred me on? One of my blogging friends, Mikalee Byerman, was awarded the Versatile Blogger award after her hysterical Jesus is my Trash man post. When I saw that, I knew the award was valuable and for real. In fact, Mikalee was on my short list of bloggers to nominate.

So thanks to Aaron, who by now has probably forgotten me, and to the nice lady from Bellingham, Washington who crowned Mikalee, I am finally accepting this award, revealing seven startling insignificant facts about my life and naming 15 very deserving bloggers for the same award.

And the nominations are:

Bob Zeller for his persistent and informative posts about his two great loves, besides his wife, photography and birds. His shots are amazing.

Patricia Koelle, who shares some exquisite shots from her home in Germany.

Scott sees the extraordinary in the ordinary, and has the wherewithal to share it. http://littlecrumcreek.wordpress.com/.

Subhakar Das, who knows both books and photographs with equal expertise at http://ficfaq.wordpress.com/.

Heather who shares a love of animals and words, not only with me, but also with her long list of devoted readers. http://becomingcliche.wordpress.com/.

Lucy Gardener loves food, photographs and life. She incorporates all three very nicely on her blog. http://lhgardener1988.wordpress.com/

I think you’ll find Carrie Craig a most appreciative person.

Judy at Northern Narratives beautifully chronicles the days through her lens.

Though focusing on poetry, the subjects and style of Kvenna Rad’s poems are indeed versatile and deserving of this award. http://kvennarad.wordpress.com/

A military spouse from Texas has an important and timely message to follow on http://sottmp.com/.

Grace encourages people to decorate their life at http://www.herumbrella.com/.

Tinkerbelle loves laughter, and shares her youthful sense of humor from her London base. http://laughteriscatching.com/.

Fiona takes an upbeat look at life from China. http://fionaqiqi.wordpress.com/.

Anyone that takes a picture a day, plus loves words and dogs gets my vote. http://livingtheseasons.com/.

And last but not least, any 16-year old who titles his blog, Learning to be Wrong, has to be right. Way to go, Justin. http://learningtobewrong.wordpress.com/.

As for my seven personal revelations, they’re not nearly as revealing or as exciting as the bloggers I’ve listed. But to fulfill the award’s requirement, here there are:

1. I can’t swim.
2. I’m afraid of the water.
3. I almost drowned when I was two.
4. I only take showers (See a pattern developing?)
5. I have never water-skied.
6. I used to have long, blond, curly hair until the seventh grade.
7. I attended the Cleveland Browns’ last World Championship (now hyper-marketed as the Super Bowl) victory, a 27-0 trouncing of the highly favored Baltimore Colts in 1964. Of course since then the Colts moved to Indianapolis, and the Browns moved to Baltimore, thanks to Art Model. The good folks of Cleveland sued to get their name back and won. Unfortunately, the Ravens, really the exiled Browns, went on to win a Super Bowl so Model could be buried in his camel’s hair overcoat and a championship ring on his finger. Or was he already? I can’t remember. I haven’t followed pro football since Model moved the team. I’d rather go swimming.

Well, folks, that’s the best I can do. My procrastination has finally been overcome by guilt, and the Versatile Blogger Awards have been duly handed out. Bring on the Oscars.

The year in pictures

By Bruce Stambaugh

I had the grandiose idea to post photos I had taken in 2011 in four categories, people, floral and fauna, scenery and weather. As I sorted through the nearly 4,000 imagines I had taken this year, I quickly realized that the task was too daunting, especially given the limited time I had.

Instead, I chose to select a picture for each month of the year. Most were taken near my home near Millersburg in Ohio’s Amish country. Others were shot while on vacation or out of our area. What I assembled turned out to be an eclectic collection that ends up serving both as a through the lens summary of my year and a representation of each of the original categories.

Here, then, are my pictures of the month for 2011.

January

Bird lover that I am, I enjoy feeding and photographing birds. This female American Goldfinch posed nicely for me on a porch post while waiting for an opening at a feeder.

February

Though this shot is of another bird, this chilly female Eastern Bluebird served as model for both the birds that I love and the weather that I watch. With the stinging, horizontally blowing snow on a late February day, she sought food and shelter and found both in the hollowed out log peanut feeder that hung on our back porch.

March

I chose this shot as a symbol of how the year unfolded. Taken outside a café in downtown Charlottesville, Virginia, I couldn’t help notice the irony of the dark gray shadow of the white window lettering on the back of the chair inside the shop. The rest of the picture is busy and blurred with multiple reflections, much like my 2011 life experience.

April

Inscribed on my grandfather Stambaugh’s tombstone is the simple yet profound phrase, “He liked people.” Well, so do I, especially family. Whenever family gathers, like my daughter’s family did at Easter with us, we try to get a family photo. But with young children, getting a perfect picture is a challenge. I thought this imperfect one to perfectly represent that point. The middle child, the long-haired lefty on the left, distains set up shots about as much as me. His older brother enjoyed Davis’ tantrum while the boys’ father tried to settle number two. The granddaughter ignored the silliness and played with a toy, while our photogenic daughter stayed focused on the camera as best she could.

May

Yep, another bird picture. It wasn’t the subject matter as much as the color that made this the May pick. Plus, it’s a rarity to have a male Baltimore Oriole and a male Red-headed Woodpecker on a suet feeder at exactly the same time. Fact is, neither seemed to mind the other since they continued to feed for several minutes.

June

June was a beautiful month, save the occasional severe weather. After a long, chilly, wet spring, June’s warmth and sun brought out beautiful flowers and insects, like these Sweet Williams and this Tiger Swallow-tail butterfly.

July

I felt this picture embodied the year we had in northeast Ohio as much as any photo I shot. Precipitation records were broken throughout the state in 2011. Severe thunderstorms, like this one with its foretelling shelf cloud, pelted northern Ohio all spring and well into the fall. Flooding, damaging tornadoes and microbursts, hail and blinding snowstorms were all a part of the year’s complex weather.

August

Notorious as a hot, humid and often dry month, August fooled us this year. As lovely as June was, August was even nicer. I thought this shot of my Amish neighbor cutting golden oats between lush alfalfa and emerald field corn best represented the month’s congeniality.

September

Like millions of other global citizens, September 11 is a special day for me. Mostly out of the desire for peace, I consider this day personally sacred. I tend to use the day for reflection and prayer. I thought the sunset on the 10th anniversary needed no words of explanation as to why it was September’s choice.

October

Every photographer knows when he or she has taken the shot. On a foggy fall morning, I was fortunate enough to capture this shot two miles east of our home. I still smile when I see it.

November

Our church community is an important ingredient in my life. On the first Saturday in November, Millersburg Mennonite Church held a benefit auction for two couples in our congregation who either have adopted or are in the process of adopting children. Of course, the cost of that process is high. All the items in the auction were donated. Needless to say, the auction was an all-around success.

December

We began this venture with a bird. I figured we might as well end it that way, too, especially when this male Eastern Bluebird came calling at the sunflower heart feeder and basked in the Christmas Day afternoon sun.

People, floral and fauna, scenery and weather all play important parts in my life. I feel fortunate to be able to regularly photograph shots representing each category. If I just happen to stumble upon some scene, bird, flowers, cloud or person that requires that I shoot a shot, I consider myself a happy and blessed person.

Happy New Year everyone!

Bruce

Keeping goals practical for 2012

By Bruce Stambaugh

It’s New Year’s resolution time, a media driven folly I deplore. Consequently, I don’t participate in the declaratory hyperbole of over-hype that usually dissolves faster than an ice cube in a frying pan.

Last year, I offered up a friendly alternative to the impractical practice of setting New Year’s resolutions. I posted a personal, grandiose bucket list that I wanted to accomplish in my life. A good friend thought the text too self-centered and exclusive.

I quickly realized my friend was right on. Knowing that resolutions again would be on the mainstream media’s New Year’s menu, I desired something more productive with which to counter publicly and apply personally.

During my seemingly yearlong recovery last year, I had lots of opportunity for meditation and gratitude. At some point, I began including in my morning devotions a simple three part prompt that seemed all too obvious.

Whether I began or ended with the trilogy, I came away with a refreshing daily approach. The self-imposed, practical advice was both a reminder and a method of living that turned my bucket list on its head.

My little daily pep talk is about as simple and modest as I am. I desire to be nice, to be kind and to behave each day.

Given the fact that I will qualify for Medicare later this year, one would think I had that palpable trio already mastered. My friend, along with other contributions from my beloved wife, told me otherwise. I am human after all, and a man to boot.

Think of it as an offshoot of Kermit the Frog. Instead of “it’s not easy being green,” I submit that it’s not easy being nice, at least not all of the time. Nor is it always attainable to be kind, a close cousin to “nice.”

I don’t mean to be kind of nice either. I mean be nice. Be kind, and the end result will be that one will behave. Seems pretty logical to me.

I’ll give you that there isn’t much difference between being nice and being kind. I guess I see being nice as easy as holding a door open for someone. Being kind, on the other hand, is a compassionate extension of that precept.

Being kind equates with being generous. The way I see it, anyone can be nice. It takes extra effort to be kind. Kindness involves time, perseverance, patience, observation and action. I can be nice and hold a door for the next person through. I can be kind and anticipate that the person pushing their mother in a wheelchair will need to have the door held for them.

Putting nice and kind into play in my life forces me to look beyond my own immediate needs, and to watch for spontaneous opportunities to assist others, even in small ways. Other times, being nice and being kind come through planned events where I can make a difference in a positive manner.

By choosing positive, I am ensuring I am behaving. If I am behaving, I am being nice and hopefully kind, too. One begets the other with productive, positive consequences for all involved.

Be nice. Be kind. Behave. Those are constructive objectives I can live by everyday of the New Year. If I don’t, I’m sure my friend or my wife will remind me. I just hope they’ll be nice about it.

The craziness continued in 2011

By Bruce Stambaugh

This year proved just as crazy as any other. Nose for news person that I am, I kept track of some of the zanier happenings of 2011 that for whatever reasons didn’t quite make the headlines.

Some of the stories involved weather. Others were human driven. Here is just a sampling of the year’s mayhem.

January
1 – By early morning, more than 4,000 red-winged blackbirds fell dead out of the sky over the Beebe, Arkansas.
12 – Florida was the only one of the 50 states without measurable snow on the ground.
28 – A woman in Kent, England returned a dog she had adopted from the local rescue kennel because it clashed with her curtains.

February
21 – Justine Siegal threw batting practice for the Cleveland Indians in Spring Training, becoming the first woman to do so for a Major League baseball team.
23 – Mother Jones magazine reported that since 1979 most income groups in America have barely grown richer, while the income of the top 1 percent has nearly quadrupled.
27 – Frank Buckles, the sole remaining U.S. World War I veteran, died at age 110 at his home in Charles Town, West Virginia.

March
13 – Police in Ashland, Ohio ticketed the driver of an Amish buggy for drag racing another buggy on the way to church.
13 – The massive 9.0 earthquake that struck Japan was so powerful it moved the country’s northern most islands up to 13 feet east.
25 – A report on global health reported that worldwide 4.6 billion people had cell phones while 4.3 billion people had access to a toilet.

April
9 – Rick Baird of Charlotte, North Carolina mad a perfect score in the second round of the Virginia State Putt-Putt tournament by acing all 18 holes in Richmond, Virginia.
11 – Scientists in England determined that April 11, 1954 was the most boring day in the 20th century.
24 – MensHealth magazine reported that the average American consumes 125 pounds of sugar annually.

May
17 – Watermelons in China were exploding in the field because farmers there apparently added growth chemicals too late in the seasons.
21 – U.S. Census figures showed that the Hispanic population had surpassed the Amish population in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.
26 – The Police Executive Research Forum listed Flint, Michigan as the most dangerous city in the United States.

June
4 – Bobby Bradley, nine, became the youngest trained pilot to fly a hot air balloon solo when he launched at Albuquerque, New Mexico and landed a half hour later.
17 – A deer fawn apparently dropped by an eagle onto a high voltage line caused a power outage in East Missoula, Montana.
20 – Maria Gomes Valentim, purported to the world’s oldest person, died in Sao Paulo, Brazil just two weeks shy of her 115th birthday.

July
26 – Sue Fondrie of Oshkosh, Wisconsin won the 2011 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction contest for bad writing with a 26-word opening sentence.
26 – A 200-year-old bottle of French wine sold for $120,000, setting a new Guinness World Record for the most valuable bottle of white wine ever sold.
28 – The U.S. Census showed that rural population totaled just 16 percent of the national population, the lowest rate in history.

August
2 – In trying to get to the Mercury Insurance Open in Carlsbad, California, pro tennis player Bojana Jovanovski flew from Washington, D.C. to Carlsbad, New Mexico.
13 – Real Madrid, a pro soccer team, signed a seven-year old boy from Argentina, to play soccer.
18 – The small Pacific resort island of Aitutaki, part of the Cook Islands, had its first bank robbery, with the thieves making off with $166,000.

September
9 – The Highway Loss Data Institute reported that the number one stolen car in the U.S. was the Cadillac Escalade, while the least stolen was the Mini Cooper Clubman.
24 – A total of 18,000 people attended the annual RoadKill Cook-off and Autumn Harvest Festival held in Marlinton, West Virginia.
30 – Brianna Amat, a senior at Pinckney Community High School in Michigan, was crowned homecoming queen at half time of the football game, and awhile later kicked the winning field goal as a member of the football team.

October
16 – Fauja Singh, 100, completed the Toronto Marathon, becoming the oldest person on record to finish a run of 23.6 miles.
23 – In the first ever-democratic election in Tunisia, where the Arab Spring began, voter turnout was 90 percent.
28 – A 60-year old New Mexico woman went straight to jail after allegedly stabbing her boyfriend over a game of Monopoly.

November
1 – Inside Insurance Magazine rated West Virginia as the state were drivers are most likely to hit a deer.
30 – An 80-year old Chicago man donated an old wool suite to Goodwill, only to remember too late that he had hid his life savings of $13,000 in one of the pockets.

December
4 – A chain-reaction crash on an expressway in Japan resulted in 14 luxury automobiles, including eight Ferraris, three Mercedes-Benzes and a Lamborghini, being destroyed or heavily damaged.
7 – Pantone Inc. announced that Tangerine Tango would be the 2012 color of the year.

Let’s hope 2012 is a better year for you, me, and for all who grace God’s good earth, even if we have to wear some shade of orange.

A family tradition comes to an end

By Bruce Stambaugh

Larry and Jan Coldwell, of rural Killbuck, Ohio, have been selling Christmas trees for 24 years. Area families were sad to learn that this year was their last.

“This decision has been harder than when I retired from teaching,” Larry said. Coldwell taught at Killbuck Elementary School until 2006.

“Growing Christmas trees was a hobby that got out of control,” Larry said. “We started selling a few, word spread, and it became an annual business.”

Larry and Jan Coldwell by Bruce Stambaugh — Larry and Jan Coldwell relax in their home near Killbuck, Ohio.

Both Larry and Jan said it would be difficult to end the business because of the relationships that have developed over the years. They have never advertised their trees for sale, yet were as busy as they wanted to be since 1987.

Larry said he began planting Scotch and White pine trees for wildlife and conservation purposes in 1981. When someone asked if those trees were for sale in December 1987, the Christmas tree selling began.

Since then, scores of people returned year after year to pick out their own tree. Of course, Larry accompanied them up the steep hillsides to help cut the tree.

“I kept a written record of who bought what species every year,” Larry said. Over time, he realized he had to expand his offerings as customers’ tastes changed.

“People were looking for more than just pines,” Larry said. With the help of his family, Larry planted several varieties of conifers, including 12 different kinds of fir.

Larry said the first two weeks of December were always the busiest for selling trees. People would even come tag their trees ahead of time in order to pick just the right tree, he explained.

“If they came the third week in December,” Larry said, “color was more important than shape, fragrance, density or needle texture.”

Friendly folks that they are, Larry and Jan both said that they would miss the annual interaction with their customers.

“I got to be a pretty good photographer,” Larry said. “People wanted a family picture with the tree they chose.” He said he recently took a family picture of four generations who had cut Christmas trees. The youngest in the photo was a toddler.

As their three children grew and left home, all the year-round work of maintaining and preparing the trees for sale at Christmas simply became too much for the couple.

Coldwells by Bruce Stambaugh — After 24 years, Larry and Jan Coldwell decided to discontinue selling Christmas trees from their tree farm.

“It’s a very labor intensive enterprise,” Larry said. “Growing trees on steep hillsides eliminated the possibility of mechanical farming.”

During the growing season, Larry fertilized, sprayed and trimmed the trees, plus he mowed between the rows. Jan pitched in with hours of weed eating.

Larry credits his late father, Loren, for his avid interest in conservation.

“Dad loved the out-of-doors,” Larry said.

Over the years, the Coldwells have received letters, cards of thanks along with pictures of customers’ trees. Some trees were even cut when no one was home, but they never had trouble with people stealing trees.

“We would find money in our mailbox, between the doors and some even brought money to school to pay for trees they had cut while we were away,” Larry said.

“It’s not the money that we will miss,” Larry said. “It’s the people.”

Larry will continue to operate his certified 113-acre tree farm and be an active board member of the Killbuck Valley Landowners Association. Jan is a nurse at Walnut Hills Nursing Home in Walnut Creek, Ohio.