posey magazine november/december 2011

www.poseymagazine.com

November/December 2011

A magazine for and about Posey County,

IndianaCopyright 2011 No material can be

reproduced without the written permission of Posey Magazine.

Contact us at: [email protected]

–

©

Special thanks to the following for their helpKeith Baumann, Mary Feagley, David Frye, Judy Grebe, Joseph Poccia, Nancy Rapp,

Kathy Riordan, Tammy Schneider, Kevin Smith, Angela Woolsey

November/December 2011

“True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country.”

— Kurt Vonnegut

“Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?”

—Mark Twain

“Each time someone stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, ...he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope.”

—Robert F. Kennedy

“What we think determines what happens to us, so if we want to change our lives, we need to stretch our minds.”

—Wayne Dyer

“I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do every-thing, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something I can do.”

— Edward Everett Hale

“The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awe-some, indescribably magnificent world in itself.”

—Henry Miller

“How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympa-thetic with the striving and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in life you will have been all of these.”

— George Washington Carver

“Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the know-ledge we have lost in information?”

—T.S. Eliot

“A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friend-ship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.”

— Saint Basil

“The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become.”

— Charles DuBois

A CHRISTMAS STORY

—Charlene TolbertContributing Editor

Posey MagazineShe can be contacted at:

[email protected]

Holidays are all tangled up in memories, and for most of us, memories were created by our families. Some of the memories are wrapped in laughter and others are bittersweet, but they all combine to make us who we are. Often what starts out as painful recollections of loss end up being a map to meaning.

I grew up surrounded by family, literally and figuratively. My mother’s family was the hub around which my life revolved. She was one of six children who produced only four grandchildren, so some might say I was spoiled. I will admit to “indulged.”

The Christmas when I was 10, I fell ill on Christmas Eve. After I finally stopped vomiting (it had gone on all night), my parents thought maybe it had just been something I ate. But when I declined to open my Christmas presents, they called the doctor who said he’d meet us at the hospital to perform an emergency appendectomy.

Mother and Daddy and my maiden Aunt Emma (she insisted) took me to the hospital. Before I could be whisked off to the operating room, my mother’s other sister and all three of her brothers and their respective husband and wives, had gathered around.

One of them overheard another patient’s relative commenting on how sad it was that

a child must be dying on Christmas. After all, why else would nearly a dozen adults be hovering over a hospitalized child on a holiday morning? By the time they stopped laughing, I was nearly in recovery.

Unfortunately, it was not the last Christmas that the family would spend in a hospital.

The first Christmas I was away at college, my grandmother became seriously ill. She had been sick for a number of years with multiple strokes and a fall that resulted in her being confined to a wheelchair. She was in and out of the hospital a number of times that fall and early winter, and by the time the Christmas season came around, she was hospitalized again.

My mother and her siblings were on a schedule, taking turns around the clock sitting with Mama as she drifted in and out of a coma. My Uncle Clarence, the kind of man who always had a smile on his face and a piece of hard candy in his pocket to offer a child, was with her when she regained consciousness.

He asked, “Mama, do you know what day this is?” She replied, “I certainly do; it’s Christmas morning.” He asked if there was anything she wanted or needed. She had one request — that he sing Christmas carols for her.

And as he did, she died peacefully and with a matching smile on her face.

Nearly thirty years later, my Uncle Clarence was himself hospitalized, with an illness that would prove fatal. It was Christmas and my mother and I had been sitting with my aunt and talking with my uncle as he drifted in and out of a fitful sleep. I was at his side when he took a deep breath, then breathed no more. A few minutes later I accompanied my aunt to the nurses’ station to make the necessary arrangements.

Aunt Fran accepted the nurse’s condolences and told her, “You know, he was with his mother when she died on a Christmas morning years ago.” The nurse looked up from her paperwork with a sweet smile and said, “Yes, and she was with him today.”

I believed it then and I believe it today. Not a day passes that I don’t spend a few moments with loved ones whom only I can see and hear, and not a holiday comes around, especially Christmas, that I don’t share with all of those people who made me who I am.

I hope that your holidays are filled with sweet memories and the chance to make new ones with those you love. And may your new year be happy and carefree.

© Photograph by J. Bruce Baumann

POSEY POSTCARD

“Best of all is it to preserve everything in a pure, still heart, and let there be for

every pulse a thanksgiving, and for every breath a song.”

—Konrad von Gesner

When I was a small boy I daydreamed about being able to fly. My head tucked comfortably on my arms, curled on a wooden desk — complete with an inkwell hole. I didn’t know who Sarah was, but her name had been lovingly carved into the desk within inches of my left eye. She must have been beautiful. Sometimes I would just solo around the classroom, dodging those ceiling lights that hung down from chains and looked like a large cakes with ample frosting. Other times I would invite Sarah to sit in the co-pilot’s seat, and we would tour the playground from about 200 feet. It’s always good to have a beautiful co-pilot.

Photographs & Text ByJ. Bruce Baumann

“You haven’t seen a tree until you’ve seen its shadow from the sky.” —Amelia Earhart

Flying was always on my mind. It didn’t really matter where I took off from or where I landed, as long as I could soar above the noise of everyday life. I’m sure some therapist would have a heyday with this, but I didn’t know about therapists at seven years old, and they would never have a chance to experience the view from the co-pilot’s seat, either. Think Sarah. As I grew older my daydreams turned to machines that could actually lift you off the ground. I wanted to take lessons, buy a plane, and see the land as the angels could:

“Flying without feathers is not easy; my

wings have no feathers.”

—Titus Maccius Plautus

Rolling fields, small ponds, shadows of light, the pinnacles of tall trees — the world above the noise. My dreams of being a pilot and owning a flying machine were never realized. But my life as a photographer gave me a ticket to the co-pilot’s seat and a chance to soar above the noise. The views were exactly as I had imagined them back when my head rested just over Sarah’s name. These are the images that set me High on Posey.

“More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an ex-citement that strains

every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a

combination.”

—Wilbur Wright

Griffin, Indiana, sits in the north end of Posey County. Located on 0.07 square miles, it is home to 151 residents.

“The desire to fly is an idea handed down to us by our ancestors who, in their grueling

travels across trackless lands in prehistoric times,

looked enviously on the birds soaring

freely through space, at full speed, above all obstacles, on the

infinite highway of the air.”

—Wilbur Wright

“How strange is this com-bination of proximity and

separation. That ground — seconds away — thousands

of miles away.”

—Charles A. Lindbergh

The Posey County courthouse, in Mount Vernon, looms high above the largest city in Posey County. Mount Vernon became the county seat in 1825. The town was originally named McFadden’s Bluff, and was renamed Mount Vernon after George Washington’s plantation. The 2010 census listed a population of 6687.

“To give thanks in solitude is enough. Thanksgiving has wings and goes

where it must go. Your prayer knows much more about it than you do.”

—Victor Hugo

The reason angels can fly is because they take themselves lightly.

—G.K. Chesterton

Poseyville, nestled in the middle of rich farmland, in the north central part of Posey County, is home to just under 1200 residents.

“Nobody who has not been up in the sky on a glorious morning can pos-sibly imagine the

way a pilot feels in free heaven.”

—William T. Piper

“I pick the prettiest part of the sky and I melt into the wing and then into the air, till I’m

just soul on a sunbeam.” —Richard Bach

New Harmony, sitting on the edge of the Wabash River, is the site of two of America’s great utopian experiments. First estab-lished by the Harmony Society in 1814, and later sold to Robert Owen, a Welsh-born industrialist and social philosopher, the town of nearly 1000 residents is best known today as a spiritualretreat, a favorite vacation destination, a place you’ll find a roofless church, several laby-rinths, and some friendly shops, restaurants and galleries.

“…hopes are Shy Birds flying at a great distance seldom reached by the

best of Guns.”

—John James Audubon

“The modern airplane creates a new geographical

dimension. A navigable ocean

of air blankets the whole surface of the globe. There are no distant places any

longer: the world is small and the world

is one.”

—Wendell Willkie

Poetry

So Little TimeLate December— So little time between dark and dark.

The morning wears a caul that it cannot shed, an omen, seventh sense, warning of winter’s grayness to come.

A lone chrysanthemum, spilling its last gold against the brick wall,is the only sunshine likely to show its lion face.

Stripped silver maples stand over the remains of their comrades— felled last fall but still lying, still and darkly decaying—

while a murder of crows in their black suits pace like undertakers

with their hands behind their backs,tilting their pomaded heads in mock sympathy.

Even the geese, late in leaving,veer low, ringing out Fly? Why? Fly? Why?

These days are measured by little tasksleft undone, and now…so little time between dark and dark.

— Linda Neal Reising

Posey Portrait

Posey Portrait will feature a random photograph of a friend or neighbor — in a place we call home

© Photograph by J. Bruce BaumannBud Funkhouser, Bud’s Hardware, Mt. Vernon

Feathers/By Sharon Sorenson

A quail called his bell-clear ascending “Bobwhite! Bobwhite!” He was so near that I caught my breath and froze, peering into the dense underbrush, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Over the past weeks, I’d heard quail across the hayfield, calling to one another along the brushy fencerows, happy in their habitat. But hearing them in the distance is less exciting than hearing them from twenty feet away. Now if I could just see him.

Stock still, I tried to spot him. Then he called again, closer, just above me. Above me? A quail? The call seemed to come from the very top of the old sycamore tree at the yard’s edge. Puzzled, I wondered if he’d been startled from his usual ground-level habitat. Had he flown up to escape some predator? But why so high?

Shading my eyes to check out the very top of the tree where several dead branches splay from the green, I squinted at a long-tailed silhouette. Then the call changed to that of the eastern phoebe.

That’s when I knew. I’d been fooled yet again by that clever gray mimic, the mockingbird bursting with song from his favorite territorial high point, his repertoire complete to mock every yard bird in the area. Within the next minutes, he shared the bluebird’s burble, the cardinal’s “purdy, purdy, purdy,” the red-shouldered hawk’s screaming “keer, keer, keer,” and then moved on to a series

© Photograph by Sharon Sorenson

A Northern Mockingbird perches near his winter’s feeding territory, guarding it against any possible intruders.

A repertoire to mock every other bird in the yardSongs & Growing200

of unidentifiable whistles, chirps and chatters, always in a pattern of three or more repetitions..

Northern mockingbirds, probably this area’s most beloved songster, are known to serenade around the clock during warm moonlight nights. In addition to the documented ability to belt out up to 200 songs (the number increases with age), tales abound about mockers’ ability to imitate less-than-fine art, including insects, amphibians, and occasionally even mechanical noises. Locally, one couple reported their mocker sounding off with generic from-the-package cell phone rings. Another claims her mocker imitates the wolf whistle she’d been directing his way.

The music, however, is hardly produced for our entertainment. Instead, it’s territorial definition, a call to battle. To fend off others of the species from their chosen nesting and feeding territories, mockingbirds sing from the three or four highest points around their small but sharply defined territories.

Year-round residents here in Posey County, the mocker’s winter territorial protection shifts from nesting sites to food sources, usually berries like holly, blackberry, pokeberry, sumac, poison ivy or Virginia creeper. At that point, both male and female may sing, each marking territory. And now, in November and December, mockingbirds have switched from summer mode to winter. No, they’ve not changed appearance (they never do); and no, they’ve not changed their song (they sing a year-round repertoire). What they’ve changed is territory.

Mockingbirds eat insects. They feed their babies insects. Come winter, however, when insects burrow into leaf litter or otherwise disappear, mockers, like other avian insect eaters, turn their tastes to berries. Considering the competition, the early bird gets the berry patch. Planning ahead, guarding now, and securing the stash until bugs return in spring means survival—or not.

Plant patrol grows battle-serious in early winter. By singing, as these virtuosos do so well, the mockers—male and female—claim, “This berry patch is mine, everybody, Mockingbirds fight to decide which will claim the rights to a winter’s feeding territory.

Sharon and Charles Sorenson settled in St. Philip in 1966 and continue to improve their certified backyard wildlife habitat that to date has hosted 161 bird species and 53 butterfly species. Send your bird questions and comments to them or contact them for public-venue programs, conferences, or seminars at: [email protected].© Photograph by Sharon Sorenson

all mine.” So the advent of winter really marks the advent of the female’s most melodic arias. In summer, while nesting, she’s quiet. Now, though, she’s on her own and most capable of blasting out her aggressive, “Buzz off, buster,” to any other mocker—mate included—who might eye her cache of berries.

In spite of their name, northern mockingbirds reside primarily in the southeastern tier of states but are so named to distinguish them from Central and South American cousins. Although the Tri-State sits near the northerly fringe of mockers’ range, some birds singing now, perched conspicuously atop the tallest object, may, in fact, have only just arrived, here for the winter, having drifted southerly, seeking mild weather—and berries.

Loners by design, mockers guard winter food sources for simple survival. And the rigors of guarding winter territory equal that for guarding summer territory. Only when outnumbered and outflanked does a mocker retreat. One winter, 300 robins invaded our yard, targeting the mocker’s berry-laden holly trees. The odds left the mocker little choice: Give ground to save a single limb. Two days later, trees bare, robins gone, the mocker, exhausted, having fought simply to survive, retained his single limb, berry rich, to last till spring.

If your yard lacks berries, lest mockers pass you by to serenade others, jam an apple half on a stake, offer soaked raisins and crumbled suet, and one may come to guard your yard. Then, come spring, buy berry plants. You’ll be rewarded with song.

I’m just sayin’

I always look forward to snow days because that means no school the next day. Well, I made the mistake of staying up until midnight--I assumed we wouldn’t have school the next morning. I checked the weather channel...school wasn’t cancelled and there wasn’t even a two-hour delay.

Megan TromblyMt. Vernon Jr. High

A big disappointment in my life would have to be losing in my fifth grade spelling bee. I practiced as much as I could; I even practiced on my way home from a water park the weekend before the spelling bee. Unfortunately it was not enough. I was the fourth one out. I was so sad walking off of the stage. I was so discouraged with myself.

Maddie BulkleyMt. Vernon Jr. High

On a cool fall night I can hear the sounds of clicking on the pavement heading my way.My heart begins to race as it once did many times before. Only this time it wouldn’t be for the thrill of the game. This time my heart will be racing for the pain that I will no longer be a part of the game. My brokenness inside has left me on the sidelines. It is at this moment I realize my love of football will only be as a fan from now on!

Kurt KissingerMt. Vernon High

A disappointment in my life was popping out with the bases loaded. I went up to the filthy plate all fired up, ready to smack that baseball

A DISAPPOINTMENTinto the vacant gap. I knew, though, I needed to relax and be humble. The pitcher must have seen that I was overanxious, because the pitch was extremely sluggish! My bat dashed to the ball, but I was way too early. Game over!

Nathan BurkeMt. Vernon Jr. High

The game-winning shot was hurled into the air, and hope and pride filled the girl’s heart. The ball hit its apex, traveled downward, and appeared to be in a perfect angle to fall exactly through the center of the hoop. Half a second later, the crowd and the girl alike realized that that was not the case; the ball bounced off the inside edge of the rim, and the time ran out. This is disappointment, the feeling of despair and guilt. It is the feeling in your heart that takes over every cell in your body. It feels as if you have let someone down, but most of all, you have let yourself down.

Eli SchapkerNorth Posey Jr. High

I feed on lies, back-stabbing, rule-breaking, cheating, and wrong decisions. Your friends, parents, close family members, and other adults have this. I thrive when you disobey rules, break promises, and so much more. Usually people lose trust and are upset with you when I am around. Hello, my name is disappointment. I cause chaos in everyone’s life at one time or another.

Jakara DownenNorth Posey Jr. High

The only time I was ever disappointed was with my fourwheeler. It was an LTZ-400 I bought for $2500.00 that I might as well have flushed down the porcelain throne. The only problems at first were the broken headlight and the fact it backfired. $300.00 later I warped the head, blew the gasket, and I could not start it at all. With a little help from my grandpa, we got it running again. But then the sidecover gasket shrunk, and I am once again unable to ride my fourwheeler.

Andrew AdamsMt. Vernon High

When I was disappointed was after my championship baseball game. We went undefeated all through the tournament; then we lost our first game, so we had to play a second one for the first place trophy. We were down by one--I was on third, two outs, two strikes, three balls, when someone came up to bat. BAM! The ball was hit down the third base line; I ran as fast as I could and right before I tagged home, I dodged the tag then all was right when I hit home plate. All I heard was, “You’re OUT!” That is when I was disappointed.

Tristan ChoateMt. Vernon Jr. High

Ever since I started swimming, I have always wanted to swim at a state meet. This year I was closer than I had ever been to a state-qualifying time. In July, my swim team held a time trials meet for swimmers close to state times; so I signed for the events I had the best chance of getting a qualifying time. I missed

I’m Just Sayin’ is a sounding board for young people. All middle and high school students (including home-schoolers) in Posey County are invited to submit essays, stories or poems on the designated topics for each issue. Submissions must be no longer than six sentences. Topics and deadlines for the next two issues:January/February Family TiesDeadline: November 20, 2011March/April: WorkDeadline: January 20, 2012

my first event’s cut, and I had only one more chance—the mile. I swam the race and got a time of 19 minutes 51 seconds—and missed my state cut by 5 seconds!

Rachel BurkeMt. Vernon High

Disappointment is when someone or something lets you down. You can get the feeling from many different situations. For example, you’re disappointed when you don’t get the grade you wanted on an assignment. You might also be disappointed when your friend makes a bad decision or a family member is doing something to hurt himself. It’s also disappointing when you don’t get to go somewhere or hang out with someone. Those are just some of the forms that disappointment can come in.

Emma JenningsNorth Posey

It’s a disappointment that so many young teens are already drinking, smoking, and trying various drugs. It’s an awful thing that kids think it’s cool and do it just to fit in. It’s disappointing to parents, teachers, friends, and our community. No one is raised to do or try these things, and we have so many programs about drugs and alcohol that no one should even want to try them. I think drugs, alcohol, and smoking is the biggest disappointment in our town.

Kelsey BrunoMt. Vernon High

Disappointment is the hole you feel inside your heart when you are left alone.Disappointment is knowing your loved ones

may never make it home.Disappointment is the tears that soak every night.Disappointment is the sadness when you have never been hugged tight.Disappointment is the day the Earth stood still.Disappointment is knowing the pain is all too REAL!

Kerilyn DavisMt. Vernon High

I’ve been disappointed recently. I play on the Mount Vernon JV football team. Our record is disappointing our coach and team. We had worked so hard over the summer, and yet we haven’t won a game yet. During those games I have missed tackles or “messed up” plays. I feel a need to better my skills in football.

Tyler HurleyMt. Vernon Jr. High

Disappointment is a complex subject. It can be an expression, a feeling, or a thought. It can be as simple as your favorite team losing or as deep as a father figure failing you. It’s

a strong emotion; when you’re disappointed, it can affect everyone around you and ruin your entire day. Some take disappointment differently than others. Whichever way, shape, or form it affects you, keep your promises and don’t disappoint others; it may mean more than you think to them.

Miranda HolbrookMt. Vernon High

My disappointment occurred when I moved, attended new schools, and my grades lowered. The fifteenth school I attended (I was in foster care.) was a college preparatory school, and the fifth graders were doing eighth grade work. I didn’t understand anything they were doing. My grades went from straight A’s to C’s and D’s. That was very disappointing!

Shoshanah JohnsonMt. Vernon High

I got Sophie when I was five and a half years old. I knew she was special because the white hair on her chest was in the shape of a heart. She was seven when she had her first seizure. The vet thought she may have a brain tumor. I was so disappointed because I thought she would be around for a long time. Sophie had to be put to sleep almost a year ago.

Nick CoureyMt. Vernon Jr. High

PARTNERS FOR PROGRESS

Garet Hollinger, Mallory Kuhn, Lera Wilson and Sydney Redman worked with various objects to see if they would sink or float. There were 12 objects in the experiment. After much discussion about each item they used their combined knowledge to make a boat from modeling clay and make it float. Slowly they added cargo (pennies) to see how much cargo could be added before it sank.

Farmersville Elementary School

What can a “public-private partnership” do for students at Farmersville Elementary School in Posey County? For the first-graders in Connie Upshaw’s class, it allows them to divide up into groups of four, gathered around a series of water-filled plastic tubs, and predict what objects will float—a toothbrush? a feather? a rubber duck? a ping pong ball? Then each group makes a boat out of sticky orange clay and sees how many pennies they can load it with before it sinks. It’s a messy project, but it sure beats sitting at their desks memorizing science facts from a textbook.

Abby Mavrick recorded the results of various items that were attracted or not responsive to magnets.

Fourth grade teacher Koren Duckworth.

Kaaleigh Krieger experiments with electricity involved connecting several wires in proper phase to power a small lightbulb.

Kim Higgins’ second graders have a tougher problem. Each group gets a glass of water with a paperclip at the bottom. Who can figure out how to get the clip out without getting his hands wet? Then each group is given a magnet and a variety of items—tin foil, a rubber band, a toothpick, a safety pin—and asked to predict which will be attracted to the magnet. They then test their predictions and try to figure out the source of any mistakes they made. The fourth graders in Koren Duckworth’s class conduct a variety of hair-raising experiments in their unit called “Fourth Grade is Electric!” On sunny days

they cook hot dogs in “solar ovens” made from Pringles cans. They fashion “heat insulators” filled with hot water around soup cans and measure heat loss every five minutes. This year, a plan to build simple circuits with a battery and one light bulb quickly progresses into group collaborations to build parallel and series circuits that light several light bulbs and set propellers spinning. “We even had one group that was able to get three light bulbs lit and three propellers spinning with four batteries!” Duckworth exclaims, obviously as excited as her students. The “public” part of this partnership comes from the efforts of Farmersville’s

teachers, who design fun and challenging hands-on experiments that complement their regular science curricula. The “private” part comes from CF Industries, a global leader in fertilizer manufacturing headquartered in Deerfield, IL, which maintains distribution terminals throughout the Midwest, including Posey County. Each year, the company awards more than $50,000 in mini-grants to assist creative teachers in developing learning experiences that will inspire tomorrow’s leaders in science and technology.

—By Linda Neal Reising

Nicky Lawrence is fascinated with a propeller that he connected to small flashlight batteries during a unit called “Fourth Grade is Electric!”

Posey Then & NowCirca 1959

Courtesy John Doane collection, USI David Rice Library

This aerial photograph, looking southwest in December 1959, shows six months of work on what will become the new Mt. Vernon High School. A year later, in December 1960, 640 students, grades 9-12, moved into the new building, which had cost just over $2 million. The new school boasted 12 all-purpose classrooms as well as special areas for industrial arts, agriculture, home economics, arts and crafts, television, band, choral and gymnastic instruction. An auditorium built to hold 1182, a cafeteria for 500, a library for 200, and a domed boy’s gymnasium with a capacity for 4200, including portable seating, brought the building total to 179,000 sq. ft.


Circa 2011Posey Then & Now

In October 2011, an aerial shot from the same viewpoint shows a very different 30-acre site. With renovations and additions in 1986 and 1991, Mt. Vernon High School has grown to 298,500 sq. ft. In 1991, Mt. Vernon Jr. High School was added to the site immediately northeast of the High School, and 6-8 grade students who had been housed at the old Central High School moved into the new 174,750 sq. ft. building. Although the footprints of the two schools are closely intertwined, the buildings are actually joined only by a single red-roofed hallway on the south side. For the 2011-12 school year, approximately 542 students are enrolled in the Jr. High and 750 in the High School.

As the holidays approach, most of us find our calendars filling up with special events, festive parties, and celebratory dinners. If we were being honest, though, many of us would have to admit experiencing at least one get-together that ended up being less than perfect, perhaps even miserable. However, we probably kept our opinions to ourselves to preserve the peace. This same tact was exhibited by John and Sarah Cox, pioneers in what is now Posey County, when they were invited to a real “Thanksgiving” dinner. According to the Cox family history, John once killed a bear at the place later known as Barrett’s Switch. As a friendly gesture, Cox gave it to the Indians who were camped along his creek near Black River. The Indians were thrilled, and they had a great time dancing and feasting. John was no stranger to the Indians. They visited the Cox home regularly, and the settlers always showed them the greatest hospitality. Even though Sarah feared the tribe, she fed them regularly, presumably to keep them happy. However, after John’s act of kindness in bestowing the bear, the Indians

A Real “Thanksgiving” Dinner

turned the tables and invited John and Sarah to a wild turkey feast. Sarah, of course, wanted to refuse the invitation and stay home. John, however, cognizant of their precarious position in this untamed territory, feared that their Indian neighbors might consider it an insult to refuse, especially since members of the tribe had eaten many meals at the Cox cabin. Reluctantly, Sarah gave in, and on the appointed day, she and John headed to the camp. The feast, however, was far from being “on the table.” In fact, it was a while before the hunters returned to camp with a large gobbler. Then the preparations began! The women flew into action and set a huge kettle of water over the fire. When it finally started to boil, they plunged the turkey into the bubbling pot to facilitate removal of the feathers. Deftly, they plucked the bird clean. With horror, Sarah watched as her hostesses started ripping up the turkey. Even more disturbing was watching them wash the turkey in the same water they had used for feather removal. But Sarah was most mortified when she saw them then dump the

gobbler back into the same water and put it back on the fire to cook! When John looked at his wife, he could see that she had turned green. After Sarah declared that she could not eat a bite without being sick, he told her that it wouldn’t poison her. John also warned her that she could not offend their hosts and risk bringing trouble upon their family. The dinner finally cooked, the Indians politely waited for their guests to begin eating first. According to family history, John whispered to Sarah, “Brace up; now it is time to show your grit.” He then handed his wife a hunk of the turkey and helped himself to a large piece. Thankfully, the Indians became so busy eating their own meal, they didn’t notice that Sarah deposited most of her turkey on the ground where it was devoured by dogs. After the dinner finally ended, John and Sarah shook hands all around and started for home. Although history does not record the date of this event, it’s obvious that Sarah was filled with “thanksgiving” that the ordeal was finally over. She and John had done their part in promoting peace and diplomacy in early Posey County.

“Brace up; now it is time to show your grit.”

By Linda Neal Reising

A Posey County resident since 1980, Linda Neal Reising lives in the historic “Cale House,” where she writes fiction and poetry, as well as fending off rowdy raccoons and voracious Virginia creeper. She can be con-tacted at: [email protected].

Out In The Back Of Beyond/Editor’s Notebook

J. Bruce BaumannEditor

Posey [email protected]

This was an amazing fall season. The colors mingled with the warm days, inviting our most positive thoughts to surface. I noticed that the people I passed were smiling, some even daring to say hello to strangers. That’s different from the dog days of summer — or the icy cold days of a southern Indiana winter. Could it be that we waste six months of the year?

I saw a sign on a church lawn recently that gave me a jolt. It read, “Be yourself, everyone else is taken.”

One morning I woke up completely

exhausted, even though I had more than eight hours of sleep. It seems that I won $100 million dollars in the lottery and spent my night planning what to do with the money. I had so many ideas of how to make Posey County a better place for everyone. I’d put people back to work who were without jobs. I would start new companies that paid a living wage. Help our young people go to college. Get rid of every gravel road and pave the tank traps in the chip and seals. Rebuild downtown Mount Vernon into a destination place. Ask for ideas of how to use our beautiful riverfront for everyone to enjoy, and then make it happen. Then the phone rang.

Do you ever wonder what you would do if you could start your life over?

I have two beautiful American Curly mares that I should sell. They need a good home and an experienced rider to keep them fit. Curlies are hypoallergenic and the perfect horse for people with allergies. My wife isn’t allowed to ride anymore, and I was a lousy rider from the giddy-up. I want to sell them as a pair since they’ve bonded over the past ten years in my pasture. Sweeter horses you’ll never find. For more information you can contact me at: [email protected].


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A Time to Share

posey magazine november/december 2011

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