Boisterous, brassy,
young redheaded woodpecker
posed for photo op.
Bruce Stambaugh
August 30, 2011
Tag: postaweek2011
“It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s a…”
Toddler granddaughter
Spots dihedral overhead,
Points, declares, “Airplane!”
Bruce Stambaugh
August 28, 2011
Lunch date
Doe nibbled at the
sea of alfalfa while I
ate my egg salad.
Bruce Stambaugh
August 25, 2011
Reactions to earthquake many and varied
By Bruce Stambaugh
The reactions to the reverberations of the 5.8 magnitude earthquake that was felt in the Holmes County, Ohio area on August 23 varied according to individual circumstances. The quake was centered near Mineral, Va., but was felt more than 400 miles away.
Many in the area thought they were experiencing a sudden illness. Some weren’t sure what to think. A few knew that the shaking shortly before 2 p.m. was an earthquake. Others, especially those in vehicles, felt nothing at all.
It didn’t take people long to realize that the shaking was much more than something they felt personally. Some figured it out on their own, while others tuned to TV news, received text messages or saw it posted on social media.
Tim Roth, of Millersburg, said he was sitting in his recliner watching the Cleveland Indians baseball game when he felt the chair shake and the house creak. He wasn’t sure what was happening at first.
The press box at Progressive Field in Cleveland swayed east and west for 30 seconds, stopped briefly, and then shook again, but not as long or as hard. Fans in the upper deck sensed the shaking, too, but were reassured by ushers. The baseball game between the Indians and the Seattle Mariners continued uninterrupted.
Greta Monter, of rural Millersburg, was lying on her couch and suddenly felt her heart race. A registered nurse, she at first thought she was having a medical health issue, but then realized it was more than just her heart.
Lora Stackpole Erclauz, of Lakeville, said she felt just a slight shaking. She said at first she thought it was vertigo, called her husband and he had felt it, too.
Rita Baughman-Dawson said she thought a train had wrecked and fell off of the tracks. She said it was a very eerie feeling.
Mike Pacula, the band director at West Holmes Middle School, said he was at his desk in his office and noticed his chair rocking and his computer monitor wobbling.
Karen Reitz Miller was in her home in Millersburg when the windows began to rattle a little and the house creaked. She said it sounded like someone was on her roof. She turned on the TV and learned of the earthquake.
Joe Heatwole, who lives in Dalton, was on the second floor of Valley View Oak near Mt. Hope when he felt the floor begin to shake. Another employee yelled that his computer monitor was shaking and the floor was moving. Heatwole said it was an exhilarating feeling to experience an earthquake for the first time.
Arlene Yoder, a nurse from Baltic, was at the doctor’s office where she works in Dover. Yoder said their patients were relieved to know that the medical staff also felt the floor shake, too.
Dana Ely-Keiffer reported that it felt like someone was shaking the recliner she was in at the Smith Ambulance office in New Philadelphia.
“I accused my partner of it until I realized he was on the other side of the room,” she said. “He was thinking I was shaking him.”
The Commercial and Savings Bank four-story building in Millersburg was evacuated as a precaution. Employees and customers were allowed back in after a brief wait outside.
Across the street at the Holmes County Education Foundation, Anna Patton reported that the window blinds moved back and forth.
Some buildings in Columbus were also evacuated as a precaution.
The Holmes County Sheriff’s Office reported receiving a few calls from around the county about the trembler. No damage was reported.
August is the quiet month
By Bruce Stambaugh
I have always thought of August as a transitional month, the days between busy, boisterous July and the revitalizing September.
August is the stepping-stone from summer’s onslaught of activities into a pre-fall mentality. Vacations wind down for most people. It’s back to school and back to work.
If we take time to halt our busyness, our clamor to re-ready ourselves for the new school year at hand, we can take note of this calendar bridge from tilling to harvest, from clamor to order. In its intermediary mode, August seems to quietly take it in stride.
The songbirds no longer need to announce their territory or impress their mate. The young have flown the coop, or more properly stated, the nest, and bird life has returned to seeking daily subsistence. The American Robin precisely models the point.
From April to July, the Robins paired off, warbled their luxurious choruses almost continuously sunup to sundown. They pecked on windows, noisily flitted off their nests when disturbed and faithfully fed their young.
The Robins were ubiquitous in both presence and song. People often comment when they see their first Robin of the spring.
Now, in late August, the Robins have all slyly retreated to their preferred nomenclature. They are more than content to while away the day searching for food deep in the recesses of the shade and forest.
Think about it. When was the last time you either heard or saw a robin? They simply and silently slipped away unnoticed.
If they haven’t already, other bird species will soon be disappearing from the area altogether. The Purple Martins, Barn Swallows and Common Nighthawks all heed their interior instinctive urgings and vanish unseen much like the Robin. We under-appreciate their massive consumption of insect protein until it’s too late to thank them.
Just as quietly, the multiple greens of fields and pastures have grown taller, richer. Chameleon-like, they have morphed into emeralds, tans and russets with hardly a rustle.
Farmers have taken in their wheat and most of their oats matter-of-factly, and now tolerantly wait the drying of the later cash crops, corn and soybeans. There is no mechanized clanking in patience.
August’s atmosphere also has been quieter than the previous months, save for a couple of late night thunderstorms. The brilliant flashes and deep, rolling booms shattered my sleep like Civil War cannon fire might have. Midnight imaginations run wild when deafeningly jolted.
The few sounds of August we can count on are more monotonous and so commonplace we may not even notice their calls. Cicadas and crickets signal day and night. With windows thrown open to catch the unusual August twilight coolness, the insect symphony has helped humans settle in for sound sleeping.
Every now and then a ranging coyote howls from atop the neighbor’s pastured hill, if for no other reason than to drive the tethered neighborhood canines crazy. The feral call is one thing. The domesticated is another.
Now that school years in most locales begin well ahead of September, the playful echoes of children rollicking at recess again fill the air. It’s a timbre I love to hear over and over again, even if it does break August’s amazing silent spell.
From book seller to book author, Wesner connects with the Amish
By Bruce Stambaugh
Erik Wesner, 33, went from selling books to the Amish to writing one about them. It was an unexpected but enjoyable trek for the Raleigh, North Carolina native.
“I kind of stumbled into it beginning in Arthur, Illinois,” Wesner said.
“The kind of books I was selling were appropriate for them,” Wesner said. He explained that they included sets of family Bible study books.
Whether he spent five minutes or 20 minutes with each household, he liked what he saw and heard. He was impressed with the inquisitiveness of the Amish, their resourcefulness and friendliness.
Wesner graduated from the University of North Carolina with a double major of English and economics. It was that knowledge that caused him to take notice of something else that he found common among the Amish.
“Everywhere I went in the Amish communities,” Wesner explained, “I saw successful businesses.” He said he was intrigued with that pattern, especially since most of the entrepreneurs were self-taught and didn’t have either high school or college degrees.
“While visiting in Amish-owned businesses, I saw customers who had driven three hours from Indianapolis and Chicago to make purchases,” he said. “I figured that was a sign of quality and honesty.”
Wesner couldn’t help but notice the continued success of these businesses in each Amish community he visited, even given the down economy.
“From Iowa to Illinois to Lancaster, Pennsylvania to Holmes County, Ohio, I found many success stories to share,” he said. That instilled in him a desire to learn about how they were able to not just survive but thrive when other businesses were not.
That intrigue lead to his book, Success Made Simple, an extensive review of Amish-owned businesses and what makes them consistently tick and click. His book is based on many interviews with Amish business folks across the country.
Wesner said though the book didn’t make the best-seller list, he gained something even more rewarding.
“Through all of this, I have made many friends among the Amish,” he said. That is what brought him back to Holmes County recently. He was visiting some New Order Amish in the Shreve, Ohio area.
In addition to his book, Wesner started a blog called “Amish America” right after the Nickel Mines incident in Lancaster County, Pensylvania in 2006. A gunman shot several Amish schoolgirls. The story made headlines worldwide.
“I didn’t like some of the things I saw and heard following that tragic situation,” Wesner said. Since he enjoys writing, he began the blog at http://amishamerica.com/.
The blog features stories and photographs of various Amish communities. He said he writes about and shows examples of everyday Amish life without trying to glorify it.
“I really enjoy the immediacy of the blog,” Wesner said, referring to the immediate posting of comments by some of his many followers. “I find that very rewarding.”
Wesner said there have been unexpected benefits to his blog.
“I mentioned an Amish business on my blog,” he said, “and the owner thanked me. She had customers who said they heard about her business by reading the blog.”
Wesner said he is working on a second book about the Amish. He said it would focus on the lesser-known things about the Amish lifestyle.
When he is not visiting Amish communities during the summer months, Wesner spends eight months out of the year teaching English in his parents’ home country of Poland. He said his students are mostly adult professionals who need to learn English for their jobs.
“I guess I feel a sense of obligation,” Wesner said about living in Poland. “My grandmother still lives there, and I didn’t want her to feel alone.”
That kind of dedication to family would resonate well with the Amish culture, too.
Walking with grandsons
“Hold my hand, Poppy.”
The sweetest words ever heard
on my daily stroll.
Bruce Stambaugh
August 19, 2011
Corn and grandchildren are both Incredible
By Bruce Stambaugh
We have begun a corny, new tradition in the family.
In June 2010, our daughter and her family moved from their beloved Austin, Texas to Harrisonburg, Virginia in the lovely Shenandoah Valley. As much as we enjoyed visiting them in the Lone Star State, we were thrilled that they would be much closer to us geographically.
True, driving the 350 miles across eight mountain passes approximated the flying time to Austin. The cost, however, was much less to travel overland than in the air, and more convenient, too.
My wife and I liked to visit Carrie and her family in Texas in late fall when the weather there was more favorable than the ever-changeable stuff of Ohio. On those autumn excursions, we often packed an extra suitcase, not for us but for them. It was filled with nothing more than several containers of frozen Incredible sweet corn. It was their winter supply of vegetable sweetness.
Last August our daughter and her three children drove from their Virginia home to ours in Ohio to help with the corn preservation process. Their extended stay gave us a chance to do up the corn and for them to explore the germane niceties of our area. Carrie returned home with the corn and the youngest, Maren, a few days later, leaving us with the two boys, Evan and Davis.
This year they repeated the process, only this time our wise and cunning daughter escaped with the Incredible and in appreciation for the golden gift left us with the trio of grandchildren, ages seven, five and 22 months. We couldn’t have been happier.
Last year, Nana and I took the boys to their first Cleveland Indians game. The highlight of the evening occurred off the field. Slider, the Tribe’s mascot, pounced on the boys, teasing them with hugs and tweaking their ball cap brims.
Last week, we repeated that experience, only with Uncle Nathan, our son, pinch-hitting for Nana, who was home entertaining toddler Maren. Unlike the perfect evening of a year ago, we witnessed two innings of baseball and two hours of drenching rain.
The baseball games were rewards for everyone pitching in to help with the corn process. Evan and Davis helped husk. Even little Maren joined in by removing the tickly corn silk from several cobs. She was meticulous in her task, determined to get every last strand.
Nana, of course, coordinated the corn coronation. She prefers to cut the kernels from the cobs before cooking it. She says it goes a lot faster. Once the cooking is completed, it’s simply a matter of finding enough containers to cache the corn.
We were amazed at Maren’s vocabulary and inquisitiveness, which included willingly participating in the corn fest. Her long sun-bleached curls matched the shade of the corn’s yellowy ears.
Evan and Davis had grown, too. Lanky and imaginative, they had no trouble keeping busy without getting into too much trouble. Of course, at mealtime, locally raised corn on the cob was a favorite.
At week’s end, we met their mother halfway in southwestern Pennsylvania to return the children to their rightful owner. That’s one of the advantages of being grandparents.
All in all the mix of grandkids and corn made for an Incredible time together. It’s a sweet, new tradition that I hope lasts longer than the frozen corn usually does.
Marshy field
Beside oat soldiers
squads of geese, ducks and shorebirds
glean the marshy field.
Bruce Stambaugh
August 16, 2011
Response to disaster defines community
By Bruce Stambaugh
If anyone ever wanted a snapshot of what defines this community, the beehive of activity in the aftermath of the storm that recently hit the Charm, Ohio area would perfectly frame that picture.
No sooner had the trees plummeted onto homes, buildings and roadways, than residents were out and about checking on one another. With the good fortune of finding no injuries, the cleanup began in earnest.
Four-wheelers, tractors, Bobcats, track hoes, and even monster skid loaders ran up and down skinny township roads. Their drivers and passengers stopped to assist wherever help was needed.
A man driving through the area just happened to have his chain saw in his pickup. With trees in his way, he did the logical thing. He cranked up his chain saw and began cutting. Drivers of a trio of semitrailers lined up behind him exited their cabs and joined in. He sawed. They pulled the limbs aside.
That proactive scenario was repeated a multitude of times throughout the Charm area. The volunteers weren’t asked to do this important work. They simply did so because it needed to be done, and they had the tools and the talent to do it. More than that, the desire to assist their neighbors in need drove them into action.
This was no time to feel sorry for yourself. Those receiving the aid worked side-by-side with the volunteers.
The response to this latest calamity in Holmes County was immediate and spontaneous, as it always seems to be no matter where the misfortune happens. Whether it’s a fire, devastating illness, serious flood or a severe thunderstorm, citizens come to the aid of others. Time and again people automatically go above and beyond the call of duty.
My wife and I got caught up in the flurry of activity in Charm. We went to check on the property of friends who live near Charm but were on vacation. The 80 mph microburst winds ripped the roof off their small barn and scattered anything not nailed down for hundreds of yards.
What we witnessed as we made our way to and from the farmstead was truly amazing, though not unexpected. In disasters like this, citizens in Holmes County by and large do the right thing. No police supervision was needed.
An hour and a half after the storm, roadways had been cleared of giant trees and other debris strewn by the incredible hurricane-force, straight-line winds. Houses, too, were already being repaired.
Everywhere we went people and machines were working to clean up the mess. They didn’t call the fire department. They didn’t wait on road crews, though at least one township had its personnel out clearing roads.
People saw the needs, and their inherent work ethic simply kicked in. The cleanup was on. Strangers helped strangers. Friends helped friends. It was a marvelous operation to observe and be a part of.
One particular setting ideally modeled both the community spirit and gracious gratitude. Hands that had cut up a large severed pine gathered around a picnic table. Grateful hands placed offerings of nourishing food for the thoughtful helpers. Together they shared a simple meal. Kindness is contagious.
By any definition, that is how a community is supposed to work and commune. That scene has been duplicated many times in the past, and most likely will be again in any future adversity that hits our rural haven.
Roadkill Crossing 
You must be logged in to post a comment.