“To solve, or not to solve–that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The indifference and incompetence of others Or to take arms against vexing problems And by opposing, end them.” –(my apologies to Shakespeare) When I entered the workforce forty years ago, I was but a young engineer – fresh-faced and overflowing with the confidence of youth. Like all twenty-somethings, I had little real-world experience, but armed with an engineering degree I was eager to tackle…..
Cities developed as population centers to exploit agricultural products, natural resources, transportation routes, and later industrial production. Historically their first responsibilities were to provide for public safety – law enforcement and fire protection. In time their duties evolved to include essential public works that promoted the health and welfare of their citizens – sanitation, drinking water, streets, stray animal control, street lighting, and power. Or as long-time councilman Blake Chambers says, “plow the streets and keep the lights on.” Later…..
I arrived early that day. Let’s see, that was nearly thirty-seven years ago – February 18th, 1982. It was dark when I pulled up to the hospital. Recently I had made this trip a lot, my wife was near term with our first child and had been confined to bed. Like I said, I got there early – about 5:30 am. Her doctor had scheduled a C-section for 8:00. I was young, and a little nervous. It the eighties, and…..
Well, I think the hard part is done, at least I hope so. I’ve been obsessing on my project and neglecting this blog for nearly three months. What have I been doing? I’m glad you asked. You did ask, didn’t you? With a great sense of relief, and pleasure I can report that I’ve finished the manuscript for Those Kids Deserve Water Too: A History of the Patoka Lake Regional Water and Sewer District, and sent it off for editorial…..
I’m afraid that I’ve been preoccupied with Patoka and neglected this blog, my apologies. Single mindedly I researched my topic, carefully peeling away the layers of the onion when out of the blue, Lisa Gehlhausen asked me to speak. She’s the Executive Director of the Indiana 15 Regional Planning Commission. “I think the Commission would like to hear about your book,” she asked. “We’re having a celebration for our 45th anniversary, could you talk for ten minutes?” Well, I’m not…..
I took a walk the other morning. It was early, just a hint of rose to the east. It was hot, of course, it is always hot in August. The sun rose as I walked, and I tried to ignore its warmth. Circling the High School, I was glad for the shadow cast by its hulk. At the end of the block I stepped again into the bright morning light, and there it was. It beckoned, this oasis. Brightly colored…..
I’m an early riser, always have been. It must be the milking gene, Dad was too. Way back, about a year and a half ago, I had a little health scare. As a result, nearly every day I meander through Washington. I loop around the Library, climb the hill to the Moose, loop around the golf course, or circle the Lake. Every morning while the world awakes I traverse the town. I love dawn. I love watching the world awake……
I reached the rendezvous point early, so I turned into the parking lot. It was empty except for three Asplundh trucks, their buckets stretched skyward as if pleading for rain. The day had been a scorcher, typical of July. Luckily a brief shower had taken the edge off. I parked and rolled my window down to wait for my contact. He had called two days ago. “There’s a Cemetery Board meeting Monday at 6:00,” he reported. “Why don’t you…..
It hurried through the weeds, leaving a wake of uprooted plants. Last week I saw it scurrying through Dad’s old tools. In the spring, it briefly appeared as I planted the beans, but today it couldn’t escape. I lifted it out of the pumpkins and examined it in the sun. It was dirty; its hide well tanned, covered with scrapes. Dark patches and the blue-green tracks of veins showed through the dirt. Turning it over, I paused at the paler…..
A cloud of steam shrouds the midnight train to Zurich. From the door of the car a ray of light beckons. John slowly scans the station. Thinking the coast is clear, he walks toward the car. With each step his heart lifts. “Halfway there,” he thinks. “Just a few more feet and I’m home free.” Suddenly a man steps out of the steam, blocking John’s path. The music turns sinister. The man’s dark fedora is pulled low over one eye……