Read it and weep.

Janet Riehl
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LAND CANNABALISM
by Erwin A. Thompson

You have just read what the reviewers had to say about these two movies.
I have said and I believe that every United States citizen should see these shows. They were good ones, but that is not my main reason.
If you were to ask the next hundred people that you meet if they believed in cannibalism, I think that you surely would have quorum of those who would be horrified to be asked such a question.
And yet. Our government has followed the principle of cannibalism many times, with the expressed philosophy of: “The greatest good for the greatest number.”
But from the viewpoint of the person who is forced to surrender their heritage for a certain amount of money it is a painful and agonizing experience.
No doubt the projects that were involved, the dam for the Tennessee Valley Authority and the testing grounds for the atomic bomb were needed. The movies listed above tell the other side of the story; the terrible agony of seeing one’s inherited land and life style be swallowed up in a major project in which the old timers have no interest.

In the Wild River story, the scene that still clings to my mind is after the dam is closed and the waters rise. A Negro is plowing the field that he has plowed for most of his life. He knows that his efforts are domed to failure, but he has to follow his instincts and his heritage.

Fire on the Mountain is a great story, but I do not recall most of the scenes. It has been years ago. The one scene that is still outstanding in my memory is when the mountain man comes to get the young Mexican woman out of jail. He made a speech that would compare favorably with Patric Henry’s “Gove me liberty or give me death!”

The reason that I can identify so well with the victims is because I have “walked the path.”
In 1936 the Federal Government condemned fifty six acres of our bottom land in much the same situation as in the Tennessee Valley story. We owned a mile of river frontage and half a mile of frontage to Piasa creek. They were building a dam at Alton, six miles down the river. When the locks were completed they would raise the river to a permanent stage that would make farming our ground impossible. They offered us $35.00 an acre for the tillable land, and $15.00 an acre for the timber. Ridiculous! One good corn crop would have paid for the tillable land, and the timber had furnished our winter’s wood supply since my grandfather bought it in 1864. Today, we do not have a foot of shore line water access. A hundred years ago we had our own steamboat landing, “Riehl’s Landing.” We can’t tie up a row boat! Now we have to use the public launching ramp. The reason that the government gave for needing a fee simple title was “National defense!” They now have a public boat launching ramp where our corn field was. National defense? If we lied on the witness stand we would be in jail! When the representative of our government came to pressure my aunts into signing the agreement he was so obnoxious that she asked him to leave the house.

Cannibalism. We abhor the thought. And yet. Our government follows that principle. There are times when it was necessary. But what irony! Our country was founded on the principle of individual rights. As they bask in the cool of the electric air conditioner (the electricity made with coal delivered in barges from the river) who really thinks; or cares if they would, that we lost the most tillable land of our farm in order to maintain the water level deep enough to float the barges!

The saddest part of the transaction was the patronizing, condescending attitude of the representatives of our government. The arbitrary setting of a price that was not in keeping with the value of the property. The insistence of getting a fee simple title when all they needed to legally close the locks was a flowage easement. We engaged an attorney, but he only got enough more money to pay his fee. Fire on the Mountain by Edward Abbey

Grandfather John Vogelin's land is his life -- a barren stretch of New Mexican wilderness, mercifully bypassed by civilization. Then the government moves in. And suddenly the elderly, mule-stubborn rancher is confronting the combined land-grabbing greed of the County Sheriff, the Department of the Interior, the Atomic Energy Commission and the U.S. Air Force. But a tough old man is like a mountain lion: if you back hom into a conner, he'll come out fighting.
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FIRE ON THE MOUNTAIN
(1981)

Director: Donald Wrye
Cast: Michael Conrad, Ron Howard, Buddy Ebsen, Julie Carmen

A 1962 novel by Edward Abbey was the source for this 1981 TV movie. Buddy Ebsen plays a stubborn oldster who refuses to leave his mountain property when it is targeted for a government missile base. Not even a promised $100,000 compensation will induce Ebsen to leave. Young land developer Ron Howard is sent to vacate Ebsen, but soon Howard joins the older man in defying the military. Soon it boils down to a battle of wills between Ebsen and the equally bullheaded army officer Michael Conrad. Fire on the Mountain may have your typical "all-TV" cast, but it's a good one. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide.

WILD RIVER

Wild River (20th Century-Fox). The story of the Tennessee Valley Authority is an epic in search of a poet. Elia Kazan produced and directed this picture…a man who can experience the elemental tensions of the tale—public against private interest, mule-team against machine society.
two novels: Scriptwriter Paul Osborn has lifted some characters and incidents from William Bradford Huie's Mud on the Stars, but much of his plot is taken from Borden Deal's Dunbar's Cove.

As finally assembled, the picture tells the story of a young TVA agent (Montgomery Clift) who is ordered to turn an 80-year-old woman (Jo Van Fleet) off her land so that a big new dam can be closed, the area flooded, and a waterpower project set in motion. She refuses to budge. "I don't sell my land," she croaks fiercely, "my land that I poured my heart's blood into."

The agent tries to explain that a few individuals must suffer so that the whole region may gain: flood control, better crops, new industries, more jobs. "You don't love the land," he protests. "You love your land." She sends him packing with a proud but pathetic declaration of the frontier's faith: "I like things runnin' wild. I'm agin dams of any kind. And I ain't crawlin' to any guvmint." Evicted, she dies of a broken heart, and a new generation buries the old.

This is the mainstream of the story, and the script should have followed it through the film. Instead, it wanders aimlessly into backwaters of violence, sex, segregation and even antiSemitism. The sex develops into a love affair that, as these things go in Hollywood productions, is unusually fierce and sweet and natural. But the rough stuff is merely conventional, and the race question, in the last analysis, is begged. Kazan's direction, however, is firm—most of the leading players give creditable performances, and Lee Remick, as the back-country belle the hero falls for, is singularly touching.

Most impressive of all is the wise and gentle moderation of the film's philosophy. Kazan comes down firmly on the side of eminent domain and the commonweal, but also takes time to recognize, with a kind of puzzled honesty, that what is good for the greatest number is often bad for the soul.

For Fathers Day our blog of the month topic is, naturally fathers. Check out the "Daddy 'n Me" archive to read, read, read to your heart's content about the life and times of my Pop.

You can also check out the "Family Matters" archive while you're at it. These and other archives are available in two places on the site:

1) Left side of top post displays current categories. Mouse over any of these and click.
2) Below the announcement section on the left side you'll see what bloggers call "the tag cloud." Mouse over any of these tags and click.

There you have it!

When Jimmy returned to visit Pop he told him, "You gave me dignity. I can stand up with anyone and be proud."

Rebecca Pincas and her family hosted a gathering at the Edwardsville Library to share the labors of several yeras of hard and dedicated work. The subject: "The early history of Melville andi ts people." Several of the old families were represented in the audience, who later became participants in the discussion of the history that we had all been a part of starting with our heritage of our roots in the Melville community.

The presentation of the material was superb. Soft music was present at just the right time to bridge what might have been an awkward pause. Becky and her sister shared the narrative of the slides. This was done from different locations, with beautiful timing as to when the changes were accomplished.

Both of the narrators have good voices, but more importantly and unusual in today's world where most people seem to believe that the faster they talk the more important the audience will consider their message, their enunciation was clear and their diction completely understandable to me.

It was a great program. I have a little more insight into the work involved, as I have been working on preserving family and community history for over forty years, and Becky has consulted with me as she worked on the material and has used some of the pictures from the Riehl / Thompson collection.

I believe that the appreciation of the program could be directly measured by the dedication of the listener to the subject at hand.

"History belongs to everyone!" (Nolan)

One time my Uncle Ed Riehl and Aunt Amelia (Mim) Riehl were to play a violin duet for the church program. Aunt Mim was very shy, and not used to playing in public. Ed had gone to school in Valporaso Indiana. He studied music. When his father found out that he was studying music instead of horticulture E. A. told him to come on back home and learn it the hard way. But the music education stuck. Ed was good. Aunt Mim told me that she was just petrified. She said her bow hair never touched the strings. Ed played double notes throughout the piece. They received many compliments on their fine "duet".

When Mathilda Riehl died in 1910, the Vollmers donated another strip of ground to expand the cemetery. They reserved the first (corner) lot, and the Riehls took the second lot. So far as I know, these were the only two lots that were ever used on this strip.

When I was four Aunt Em (Riehl) married George Gibbens from Pike County. He had studied for the ministry but refused to be ordained because he didn't believe in the sectarian segregation of the Baptists, Methodists, Catholics and so on. He was always active in the "church," using the larger definition as meaning the work of the Lord without regard to sectarian boundaries.

One of his early projects was to start a Sunday School in the Randolph School District #17 where the Police Youth Camp is now. This was predominately a Catholic community and they had a church about a mile from the school on the Beltrees road. This Sunday School filled a need that existed at that time, for transportation was hard come by and there were people there who felt the need of Sunday worship. We walked some times but often drove the seven or eight miles around the road to get two miles away from home.

I remember when the Rushville Thompson's came down we'd all go over to Sunday School. Of course my parents were interested in the effort as former missionaries, as well as taking their family to Sunday Worship. Dad let me sit on his lap one Sunday and hold the steering wheel. I was really thrilled, and scared too as we drove by the edge of Piasa Creek by the old cement mill. I was sure we'd all end up in the creek, for there was only a narrow road and no such thing as a guard rail.

When I was seven the interest in the improvised church dwindled. Probably this was due in part to better roads and more reliable cars. People could go out of their own immediate community to church (and did). Another reason, I think there was an element of transient population. Locks and Runzies both kept at least one and often two steady hired men. Likely this was a factor in the need of a local Sunday School.

We went to Melville then. It was a chartered Congregational Church, but so far as I recall there was only one Congregational minister there in the thirty five years I went there. Usually they got the students from Shurtleff College (A Baptist theological school).

Uncle George took over as Superintendent and served for many years. I can't recall what song books they were using then but shortly after we went there they changed to the "Tabernacle No. 2". I still remember the ones we sang most - Life's Railway to Heaven, Beaulah Land, Love Lifted me, Jesus is all the world to me, Wonderful Words of Life. Many more. They were singers. Maybe not technically, but we enjoyed it and the church was filled with our voices "making a joyous noise unto the Lord".

Transportation was still a problem. Some days it was so muddy we couldn't drive, we walked down the railroad track and up Clifton Road to keep out of the mud. On real bad Sundays we'd meet in Uncle George's living room. The Bowmans and Shermans would always be there no matter how bad the weather. "Wherever two or more are gathered together in my name there will I be also".

I do not know the background of Nelson Kiedel. He was a dedicated workman, and a true craftsman. He married Lillian Howard, the descendant of one of the first pioneers of the area. He was a blacksmith, horticulturist, and grave digger for the neighborhood. Digging graves is not a glamorous task, but surely a necessary one. Also not one that many would aspire to, even in the days when hand labor was not looked down upon as it seems to be today. He was a very quiet, unassuming person, but he did his part to help the community function.

His wife had a better than average musical education, and a dedication to see that her daughter got the best training in that field that was available in this locality. Lydia prospered under her mother's teaching and the professional guidance that I am sure she had. Between the two of them they furnished the accompaniment for the singing in the Melville Congregational Church for many years.

Let us not forget the Kiedel pond. When the road was being paved, they got the water to mix the concrete from that pond. But more importantly to us youngsters, it was a fine place to ice skate in the winter time. Many a skating party on Kiedel's pond!

Walter Collins married Lydia Kiedel. He was handy with any kind of tool or construction project. Back in the twenties he had built houses and gotten caught in "The Great Depression." The houses were not worth the money that he had invested in materials, let alone anything for his labor. Bankruptcy was the only answer. This was a cruel cross to bear, and no blame to him. "Caught in the wicked web of circumstance." He had an ice route, back in the days before many of the local people did not have electricity. He hauled logs when the Dressler Woods were logged off. In this occupation he suffered a broken leg. I learned a lot of things from Walter. He was very generous with sharing his knowledge and his skills. He had them.

The Bowens started out on Piasa Hill, on the east side of the creek, north side of the road. Frank farmed the Marsh Bottoms for years. I never remember Frank coming to church but his wife was a member of the Ladies' Aid" and his daughters went. Later they moved to what we called the "Old Calame Place." Their son, Sherman, became a close friend of mine.

Jay Cline built a little filling station and grocery store on the east side of Piasa Creek on the hill, just above the Bowen residence. So far as I recall he did not attend the church. He started giving neighborhood dances in his garage. This was certainly good for me, as the only form of entertainment were the public dance halls such as the "Idle Hour," "The Chatterbox", and "Tourville" which did not suit my taste. He was a good neighbor. When the residents of Riehl Lane bought a rock crusher in Saint Louis he took his truck down and hauled it up here for us. Ran a bill for those who needed it.

Ben Hill took over in the late thirties. He continued the dances, and "running a bill" for the neighbors. They did not attend the church regularly, but I recall one Christmas they furnished the candy for the Christmas treats for the children. Probably more than once.

The Vollmers were "old timers," furnishing the ground for the addition to the cemetery and most likely for the church and the original cemetery. I do not have the details, but the "square out" of the land would indicate it. I am going to ask Harriet to write out what she can of their history. Clara married Lawrence Hoffman. I remember one late spring, Harriet's parents cleaned out the barn loft and hosted a real barn dance! Music furnished by the neighborhood youngsters: Chris Veltjes, Laverne and Clarence Bregenzer, Bill Hickerson, Eddie Lock, Sherman Bowen Bee and Bill Lewis and myself. It is still remembered and held up as a fine example of neighborhood cooperation.

Eric Brinkman started a little garage on the south side of the road, some time in the late twenties. He courted and married Lucille Ebbler, who taught the Clifton Hill School in its new location. Eric was a good mechanic and a firm friend, often doing things that were really outside of his normal work schedule like helping me with my Fordson tractor when I could not get it to run. He was also into the development of the home radio, and furnished the first really practical one that we owned. The garage became the meeting place of many of the neighborhood young men. After the repeal of the 18th amendment he served beer. They became known locally as "The Melville Gang."

George Stiritz owned the property adjoining the church on the west. They were Catholic. Their son, Anthony, was in the Jersey County 4-H club with me. He married Lillian Gerson, and so far as I know their contact was from the 4-H activities. The Gersons lived on up the road several miles, and were not really a part of the Melville residents. I do not believe that they would have ever met except for the 4-H.

At the settling of his estate the Stiritz heirs offered to sell the church enough of the adjoining land to build the new church. It was a fine offer, and the price was more than just "a fair deal." It was a one time opportunity. I never knew the rest of the family, but Anthony was always a good friend. He and Lillian rented the "upper cottage" while I was in the service. George was a good neighbor, owning the eighty that had been the "Finkes place" on Riehl Lane in addition to his "home place" farm next to the church. I traded work with him in later years.

Celle Corzine worked for the telephone company. In fact he almost was the telephone company during World War Two. (Legend said that his unusual first name was the name of the town in Germany that his parents lived in when he was born) All of the available material needed to repair telephone lines had been requisitioned by the Federal Government to pursue the military objective of keeping this country from needing to learn Japanese.

He kept our telephone service going with such ingenious ideas of hanging the wires on trees when the poles rotted out and fell over. I never knew Ben that well, but Mary-Lou "hung out" with the two younger Bowen girls. I had started dancing with Lucille when I was sixteen and she was ten at the Cline dances. I wrote the song: "The Girl In The Little Blue Hat" for her. Then in later years after I got to be friends with Sherman, I furnished transportation for the girls including Mary-Lou Corzine. At that time there was a song named "Mary -Lou" and we would tease her by singing it to her.

Becky had a picture of Fern and Vern Hayes. I do not know the details of the family, but the girls were about my age, nice looking youngsters. They lived in a little house on the Dressler property. It burned in the early thirties. Friends of Mary Bowman. Her older brother, James, courted Fern but it never materialized into anything but a courtship. I remember one time after church the twins came over and visited Mary Bowman for the day. They changed clothes several times during the day for fun, three ways. They were not identical twins, but pretty close. It was a challenge.

Sandy and Lucy Freeman were slaves in Missouri, near the Missouri River. They made their plans and escaped by boat.

They followed the Missouri to the Mississippi. Then up the Mississippi. They went to "Rocky Fork" which was known as a place where escaped slaves could hide. Even though Illinois was supposed to be a free state, this was no "safe haven." Remember that Lovejoy was killed in Alton just a few years before this for printing anti-slavery material!

He took the name "Freeman" because he was a free man!

Here they got married. Charley describes the wedding:

"They got married by 'stepping over a broom.' The broom is held by a person on each side. These are the witnesses. The couple steps over the broom together, and they are married!"

If the year was 1863 as we theorize, Lucy would have been nineteen years old. Sandy would have been in his early twenties.

Riehl daybook entry March 17, 1864: "Had Sandy and Johnson's ox team in P.M." This would seem to indicate that Sandy was working for Johnson (who owned the farm next to the Riehl Farm going out Riehl Lane) at that time.

July 5, 1869: "Alex stole Sandy's gun last night, also Fred's dog and our skiff." This would seem to indicate that Sandy was living on this (the Riehl) place at that time.

On August sixteenth, 1869 Sandy bought a four acre tract of land from Solomon and Elizabeth Johnson. The land lay on the north side of Riehl Lane, extending from the East line of Jersey County a distance of seven chains and sixty links, and six chains and thirty links north and south. The deed does not mention the road, just the legal description of: "North-east corner of the east half of the south-east quarter of Section 24." The price was one hundred dollars.

Both Randolph and Clifton Hill Schools were integrated at that time without the disturbance which was created in later years in other parts of our supposedly "free" country. So far as I know there was never a question raised as to their acceptance in those schools. Nor was it ever questioned in the trading of work in the community. Lincoln Freeman ate with the rest of the crew at threshing time and other work trading times.

Many years ago the Camps and the Dresslers were part of the church. I never heard the details, but there was some sort of disagreement among the members and I do not recall seeing either family in the church during my time there.

And don't forget the Shermans. They lived in a little house on property that adjoined the Madison County line on Riehl Lane.

The father, Bill, had worked for my Uncle Ed Riehl years ago. He helped me some times and I helped him with things that he needed like transportation to town and hauling wood out of Dressler's woods for him to keep warm with. He was a good man with an axe. Next to my Uncle George Gibbens, and that is a high compliment. We both almost got killed one day by a tree falling in a different direction than we had planned. The thing that we overlooked was that it was a dead chestnut. We had wedged it to fall down hill, where it had looked like the most weight of the branches was. History proved that we had both mis-judged this. But because the wood was dead it "broke back over" our wedges, breaking the little strip of wood between our "notch" and our saw cut that we were wedging from. We heard it break and started to run. Fortunately we both realized that we were running in exactly the wrong direction! No time to communicate, we turned and ran out from under the falling tree.

The older daughter, Elsie, was secretary of the Sunday School for many years. She never married. She often helped the Riehl's with harvesting the peony and chestnut crops.

Curt was maybe a year younger than I was. We often had some pretty fair tussles on the way home from school. I don't believe we were ever really mad at each other. Later years, Eugene Huchstuhl was Sunday School Superintendent. He went to Florida one winter and left me as assistant to keep the place going. Lydia Collins was the piano player, but she had a very aggravating habit of coming late. The practice developed that Sunday School just did not start until she arrived. The congregation got so they did not arrive, either. This meant either cutting the Sunday School time or dragging it on into time that should have been church time. If they took the usual time it made everything late. I was young and impatient. I decided to change the schedule. Louis Veltjes played piano. Nothing like Lydia, but one could recognize the tunes. Curt Sherman built the fire, and had the room warm at the appointed time. The first day on my project of starting on time there were three people there: Curt. Louis, and myself. But it worked! By the time that Eugene got back from Florida, Sunday School started at nine thirty.

I will say that Lydia took it like a lady. She came at her usual fifteen minute late time and sat with the audience. But I had no wish to replace her or hurt her feelings. I just wanted to start Sunday School at nine thirty! So I talked to her and after that the two musicians very quietly changed places when she arrived.

Probably the most colorful was William Gradolph. Like the old ballad, "Barnacle Bill the Sailor," he courted all of the fair damsels of the neighborhood and married none of them.

I do not ever recall his attending the Melville Congregational Church, but he left his estate to the church. They purchased an electric organ with the money. This was a great boon for the musical development of the

ACHENBACK'S The first neighborhood store that I remember is Achenback's store at Melville. Being born in the year 1915 I would say that this would be early nineteen twenties. This was a two story brick building with living quarters as a part of it. Located at what is the present site of the Oak Grove Trailer Court, about four miles from Alton going toward Jerseyville on the "old road." They sold most of the things that would be called necessities keeping house so far as food went. There was flour in nearly any quantity that one would want to buy it in. Also sugar. They stocked a limited supply of "store canned" foods. Bread was a big item in their business. People had almost stopped making bread at home for practical every day eating. Home baked bread was unusual, and mostly was a treat.

At our house we usually had rolls for Saturday night supper. Of course Aunt Em prepared the dough, formed them, and put them in the oven. If he was not too busy otherwise Uncle George was drafted to keep the wood fire going in the kitchen range and see that the rolls were properly baked. He accomplished this quite nicely. While on the subject of bread I must say that Mrs. John (Lena) Stanka made home made yeast. I recall that our neighbor, Mrs. Jim Bowman, always used Mrs. Stanka's yeast. We children usually got the task of going after it. There was a good sized paper sack of the little round cakes of yeast. This cost ten cents.

Achenback's also provided the neighborhood with a place to buy gasoline. This was the only local source except doing as we did and having the Farm Bureau deliver it to our own barrels at home.

I recall buying an axe handle there for thirty cents in the early nineteen thirties. Tobacco was a big item, as most of the men either smoked, chewed, or both. "Tailor made" cigarettes were a luxury that many could not afford. Some smoked pipes, while others chose to "roll their own". Gloves were an important part of their merchandise. Kerosene was sold by the gallon from a barrel out in back.

I can't recall that this was ever a "gathering place" in my lifetime. Back in the preceding years there was a dance hall back of the store which served as recreation for those of the community who did not believe that dancing was sinful. I learned a part of the history of the building only recently from Virginia Achenback, wife or Clarence Achenback Junior. She gave me an old picture of the building with a sign showing that it sold "dry goods and groceries", and also was the "Melville Post Office". She said that her grandmother, Mrs. Schmidt was the postmistress. This seems to me to have been a bit unusual for that time period.

Achenbacks did things that were favors to the community. Like helping with registered mail. Prior to 1925 all of the roads between our house and the Godfrey Post Office were dirt in dry weather and mud in wet weather with the exception of a limited quantity of crushed rock that had been put in some of the worst mudholes by a group of the people who used the road, and a short stretch of brick on the Godfrey road at North Alton. A trip to the post office was a chore at any time, and would also mean a day's delay in most cases by the time we got a notice in the mailbox and had time to go to the post office before they closed. Achenbacks would sign for the letter, call us, and we could pick it up when we got the mail by going only one extra mile.

Many of the customers "ran a bill", and paid it on Saturday night as nearly as of the men who worked for wages worked a six day week. Achenbacks always gave the children a sack of candy when the bill was settled.

Bert Richey: I do not remember Bert being active in the church, but he was a firm part of the neighborhood. I never knew his wife well, but his daughters were just a bit younger than I was and were involved in many of the same Church and Sunday School activities. He built a small filling station and grocery at the corner of Clifton Road and the "Grafton Road". He loved to ride, and had a beautiful horse. I believe the horse's name was "King." One thing that he did that stands out in my memory: when my wife, Ruth, was the sponsor of the Girl Scout Troop there we had square dances in the basement of the school. Bert had a good record player and always furnished the music. I remember ten sets of youngsters there sometimes. One bitterly cold night he brought his things in and we began to hear strange noises. The abrupt change of temperature was causing the records to break. No telling how many fine records he lost that evening, but he stood the loss like the gentleman that he was. An asset to the community.

Fred Lawless was a carpenter. He worked all around the area, doing the carpenter work that needed to be done to keep the homes and outbuildings working. So far as I know he never married or had any romantic alliances. His skills ranged from putting on new roofs to repairing and plastering cisterns. I helped him some as I grew up, but he despaired of my impatience and inept attempts to do the meticulous work. He put up with me, though, and I learned.

Ray Beaverdell was also a general handy man. The two of them worked together sometimes, but more often separately. The two of them put the basement under the Congregational Church in about 1925. Quite a project!

"The Hollard Girls". In other days, a family of young women never seemed to age. My aunts were nearly always referred to as: "The Riehl Girls," although they were old enough to have had grandchildren had that been their destiny. So it was with the Hollard Girls. They moved from the Melville locality many years ago, and bought a home on Highland Avenue in Alton. I got acquainted with them quite by accident. As I worked for Union Electric in the gas department, we worked off of a small tool trailer. At that time I had a long going project on Highland Avenue. One big disadvantage to the job was that we had no shelter from the weather. If it rained or snowed we just had to find some place better than standing out in it. In the process of our work I got acquainted with the Hollard Girls. When they found out that I was the sort of foster son of the Riehl Girls we had a home. We camped out in their basement for the time we were on that street. We shoveled the snow off of their sidewalk and repaired whatever needed to be done around the house.

Not an old timer, but I keep thinking about Lorraine Rintoul. The Rintoul's lived on up the road several miles. I knew her through the 4H clubs and so on. She was a fine looking youngster. She considered me sort of like a big brother. I remember her telling me one time how she was particularly fond of a certain boy and he was not seeing her like she wanted him to see her. She married Bernard Stiritz, and I do not know exactly how they got acquainted. It was a good marriage, and lasted until her untimely death.

Clay and Francis East were workers. Not only for their own profit in their trucking business but in the church and neighborhood. A personal favor or helping hand was normal procedure. Both of them were active in the church and Sunday School. They taught classes and expended untold effort to "make things work."

Pearl and Harry Holliday were also workers. Pearl in the religious department, Harry more in the practical.

Harry told a joke one day that still sticks in my memory, and I would like to share it here:

"Mama, I'm confused," the five year old boy told his mother.

Of course she was sympathetic, and asked what was troubling him.

"Well, this morning, I went to Sunday School, and they said: 'Stand up, stand up for Jesus,' and this afternoon I went to the ball game and they hollered: 'For Chirst's sake, sit down!'"

I do not recall their involvement in the church activities, but the Kettlewells lived on the corner of Stanka Lane and the Grafton Road. "Little Ben" had reputation for being one of the finest teamsters in the area. He earned and sustained that reputation during the logging of the "Dressler Woods."

Leona was the one that I knew best. She was a few years older than I was. Enough older that when she came to help with the peony harvest she was given the additional responsibility of keeping me out of mischief. I must have been about three. She solved the problem by tying me to the leg of the work bench that she was working on. She thought she had. But somehow I escaped. I was missed. And you know, I had disappeared! All hands on deck!

To process the peonies for shipping, the stems were cut a certain length in the field. In the packing shed, the bottom three leaves were stripped, and the flowers were bunched, thirteen to a bunch. (Baker's dozen," they called the practice) When the leaves got too thick under foot they were carried out and put in a big pile down over the bank. This, eventually, made mulch in years of de-composing. In the meantime, it was a wonderful place for me to play! I was eventually discovered, re-captured, and tied more securely.

This was a good basis for the friendship that endured until her death.

"Little Joe" Stiritz and his family. His children went to school with my children. His wife, Eunice, used to help us with the peony and chestnut harvests. Joe wa a worker. His wife was a worker. And it should come as no surprise that his children were workers! I have had some good discussions with two of them about "the old days." They were a part of the group of youngsters that were in the square dance bunch when we had them in the basement of Clifton Hill School.

Eugene and Rosie Huckstuhl Eugene was a very handy man. He was a worker in and for the church in both the spiritual and practical sense. Rosie taught the little children. She had that special touch that is needed with the very young. Known to many as: "Aunt Rosie," although no blood relationship existed.

Somewhere along in the mid 1930's the church roof was leaking. Eugene undertook the task of taking the old wood shingles off and putting new ones on. Wood shingles are a challenge. The shingles are twelve inches long, with a four inch exposure to the weather. The shingles need to be placed so that the joints between them will come over a shingle already laid on the preceding course. This was a truly courageous project, for he was doing it with all volunteer labor, after the regular work day. We would tear off about as much as we hoped to get put back, and proceed. When we got the old shingles off we had to be sure that the old nails were out so that they would not punch holes in the new shingles as they were installed. This is where I learned how to install wood shingles.

To keep us from sliding off of the roof, we had 2 x 4 toe holds, secured by strips of tin up under the new shingles. When we moved the toe holds we simply cut the tin at the bottom edge of the new shingle. This worked fine except for one time. One could say: "The Lord was with us." One of the toe holds gave way. Possibly because the sheeting boards were more than sixty years old and the nail pulled out. But Kenneth Williams slid all the way down the roof, and was caught by the one we had left at the very bottom of the newly installed shingles.

Reverend David Toomey. Although the church was dedicated as the "Melville Congregational Church," there was never a Congregational pastor in it until the mid 1950's. At the time of my childhood, Shurtleff College was a Baptist college, empowered to give a degree and to fulfill the requirements for the graduate to become an ordained Baptist minister. The aspiring students often filled the Melville pulpit on Sunday mornings. It was good experience for them and it gave Melville a temporary minister. The church did not have any money. The minister got whatever the collection produced, and sometimes it was rather slim.

I am not completely clear on the exact date or the reason, but it seemed that the Shurtleff students were either no longer available or no longer interested. Reverend Toomey came and preached. He also did the other things that are traditional for dedicated ministers to do. As I talked to the youngest daughter of "Little Joe" I asked her what her memories of the church were. With no hesitation whatever she replied: "Reverend Toomey." I got exactly the same response from my daughter, Janet.

It would be impossible to do justice to his dedication and his devotion. When he prayed, he was talking to God, and the conversations did get somewhat lengthy. Walter Collins timed one, once, and clocked it at twenty three minutes. But if one listened it all made sense. If one was stressed out as I often was, if I took a nap I could wake up and feel like I was still "In the loop."

One funny story.

Francis East was complaining one day that Reverend Toomey needed to "Preach more Hell fire and damnation!"

So Lydia Collins asked her exactly what she felt was needed?

"Well, he needs to preach against sin!"

So, the discussion went on to detail what Francis was wanting on the list.

Drinking, slot machines, infidelity all made the list with no challenge.

"How about card playing?" Lydia asked.

"Well," Francis replied almost indignantly, "I play cards!"

I do not have an accounting of the building of the church, but this story has been apart of the Riehl heritage all of my lifetime.

My maternal Grandfather E. A. Riehl was not a church going man. Do not confuse this as saying that he was not a religious man.

1) He believed in a Divine Presence, and communed with his God through the love and prorogation of God's plants and fruits.

2) He also ministers to human problems.

--- He "figured out" the ingredients of a salve that he gave freely to the neighbors who had need of ointment and they had no money for doctor's ministration.

---He made coffins in his shop for those who could not afford the "store-bought" ones.

The only reference I found in his day books was that he had gone to a church meeting and had not been inspired by the sermon. This, the background. His opinions and thoughts on this subject were well known.

Yet, he was actively helping to build the Melville Congregational Church.

One day, and one of the other neighbor volunteers asked him:"Mister Riehl, why are you helping build this church? It is well known that you are not a church going man."

His reply went something like this: "I commune with my God through my work with God's creations like the plants and flowers. But a community needs a church for the people who need the formality of worshiping together, and the other things like funerals and weddings. I believe that a community needs a church. I am helping to build it."

Remember that in that day there were no funeral parlors to take care of funeral services. Weddings were performed in a church, or in the parsonage.

Happy birthday, Gary, as you celebrate 62 years of your happiness genius dedicated to being a good solid citizen, a good father and now grandfather and uncle and great-uncle and brother and son and husband, a good teacher, a good fix-it man (is hard to find)...a good human being.

Today my father and I travel by train from Alton, Illinois to Bloomington, Illinois to celebrate my brother's birthday with him along with his wife, children, and grandchildren.

You have to know that "the runt" is the littlest pig of the litter. And the youngest grandchild was ever his "runt."

What we do shapes our language.

As descendents of pig farmers, we still find pig-sayings creeping into our language.

My father, asked if we should wait dinner for a late arrival, answered, clearly hungry, "We'll wait for them just like one hog waits for another." That is to say, with our snouts in the trough, eating!

My Aunt Grace (my mother's sister and Courtney's daughter) just turned 82 and came to visit me in St. Louis with her daughter, my Cousin Cynthia. Aunt Grace told the family story that it was said: "A doctor counts his patients just like we count hogs to send to market."

This was a cautionary tale not to submit automatically to everything a doctor suggested, but to realize there was a business aspect to the doctor's care, no matter how well intended the doctor might be.

We kept pigs at home when I was growing up. My father and I tended a ruptured mother pig after her birth once. I was so scared, and young, but stepped forward and helped anyway, instead of running away. My father, in rare praise, said then, and still says, how brave I was.

My brother Gary has taken up the family reunion mantle. He and his wife Patty host an annual family get-together at their lakeside home outside Jacksonville.

Besides the ample good food from the garden, joking around, hearing about the crops, the haying, the bullriding, the sawmills and such...one of the biggest highlights of these gatherings is when Gary takes the kids fishing.

My brother is not only an avid fisherman, he's good with kids, and kids love him right back. To see them all out there on the dock---sometimes 10 at a time---reeling in their small fish with such great pride---is a sight to behold.

Cattle Country and Back Trail: Two Tales from the Thompson Western Series
Erwin A. Thompson
ISBN: 0-595-40228-3
Publisher: iUniverse
$17.95 US
Reviewer: Gordon Randall

Buy on "Cattle Country and Back Trail" on Amazon by clicking here.

Randall begins his review by saying...."Turns out that Cattle Country and Back Trail by Erwin Thompson grabbed me by the horns like a champion roper and tied up my attention tighter than a piece of wet leather. Though it may be fiction, the author sure has a knack for this genre ‘cause I was immediately drawn into the action quicker than a drunk gun slinger on Saturday night. Thompson paints the picture with vivid descriptions of the rural countryside as well as the muddy ruts of old western towns. Thompson knows people, too. He takes you inside every character’s head so you understand where each of them came from, how they got where they are, what made them who they are, and why they act the way they do. He would have been a great cowboy psychologist!"

Click here to read the preface of "Cattle Country and Back Trail" on Amapedia.