The dead rising

By Adrienne Greene

Dear Pastor,

I know that the people dead in Christ will be called up first. When will the other dead people rise?

A:

The topic of death is on our minds lately. I’ve received numerous questions about Judgment Day and “the end” as we’ve tragically watched a global virus destroy our loved ones, friends and fellow citizens. Then, adding insult to injury like he always does, the Devil visited our nation with a wave of deathly, racial crime so heinous, it brought a simmering topic to full boil. The Prince of Peace, our Jesus, knows exactly what to do and how to heal our nation as we pray, repent and choose a Kingdom mindset in the place of our raging emotions about a killer virus and a killer cop. What is a Kingdom mindset? We are all dying sinners, made from the same, human bloodline and we suffer alike. We need a savior. Every single one of us. “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest,” said Jesus in Matthew 18. His powerful statement is completely colorless and no respecter of persons.

Since my readers are well-read individuals both biblically and academically, I made sure I referenced your scriptures to evaluate the declaration that dead Christians rise from the grave first. Sure enough, that is exactly what the Bible says: “We who are alive in him and remain on earth when the Lord appears will by no means have an advantage over those who have already died, for both will rise together. For the Lord himself will appear with the declaration of victory, the shout of an archangel, and the trumpet blast of God. He will descend from the heavenly realm and command those who are dead in Christ to rise first. Then we who are alive will join them, transported together in clouds to have an encounter with the Lord in the air, and we will be forever joined with the Lord.” (1 Thessalonians 4:15-17, TPT.) Now that we have that settled (Christians will rise with Jesus), I have a question for you: Why would it matter when everyone else is summoned? Simple curiosity notwithstanding…the distraction of a detail like that is similar to James and John arguing over where they will sit in Christ’s heavenly kingdom (Mark 10.) On the other side of glory, when we all get to heaven, I’m pretty sure we won’t care about who rose when and what happened next. We’ll just be glad we made it!

I’m not a spectacular theologian, as my haters love to remind me endlessly. And my job as a pastoral columnist is often made difficult by questions that have no answers—questions the Bible does not address. I choose not to connect the dots when Scripture does not. I work hard not to fill in the blanks when God leaves things blank. If God isn’t speaking, in other words, I’m not at liberty to put words in his mouth. Your question is one of those unanswerable areas. Nobody knows when those who reject the Savior will rise for their judgment. The Bible is silent.

We do know, according to Acts 24, that every soul will be summoned forth for evaluation; both dead and alive; Christian and non. Everyone who ever lived will account for how they did it. Christians will present themselves before the Judgement Seat of Christ mentioned in 2 Corinthians 5, and the unbelievers will turn up at the Great White Judgement Throne of Revelation 20.

In that last passage, the Bible mentions many books. These are the records of our lives being kept in perfect detail in a heavenly courthouse by an angelic clerk of courts. I say this not to wield a heavy hand of religiosity or threat. It is simply a reminder to us all that every life has value and meaning. Such meaning, in fact, that teams of heavenly scribes and a God who cheers us on, directs the recordings of our every victory, our moments of success and the long chapters when we struggled yet overcame. The point is, if you know someone who won’t be raised from the dead with all the Christians, pray for them, speak to them and love them as best you can into the knowledge of the Savior. It’s harvest time!

Do you have a question or comment for Pastor Adrienne? Send your inquiries to: info@adriennewgreene.com or write to P.O. Box 214, Harrison, OH 45030. For more information, please visit www.adriennewgreene.com or tune into the “Ask Pastor Adrienne” YouTube channel.

Anyone who would like to write columns on religion or other subjects are welcome to send them to jestridge@yahoo.com

Mom is singing with the angels

By John Estridge

Let me say up front that everyone’s mom is special.

I know that. I understand that.

My mom passed in her sleep in the early morning hours of June 10, 2020. And we believe she is still dead.

I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but people who knew of mom will understand that statement. Mom experienced miracles at about a miracle a minute. Before I get into that; however, let me relate a few memories of my mom.

For several years mom has not been able to call on her memories. When My Long Suffering Wife Ruth and I would go visit, mom was always very gracious, but she had no clue who we were. She had learned to play along and not outwardly show she did not know people, but she told others she did not know us, but she thought we were a nice couple. I really liked that.

When we would get to see mom, I would always introduce myself as her favorite child. This would bring mom’s always-ready smile to the surface. While I said it to elicit that smile, there was more than a little truth in that statement. I am the baby and the only son: got to love me.

Mom was a stay-at-home mother during my early years, which were in the long-ago time of the early 1960s. Preschool was a much longer period of time back then. Kindergarten was reserved for rich kids, and I was anything but that when speaking in monetary terms. But mom made my preschool years very rich and lustrous. I have nothing but good memories of those years.

My days would begin in front of the TV. My morning, after my Cream of Wheat, consisted of Uncle Al, Captain Kangaroo and cartoons when cartoons were cartoons, and they were able to carry guns and blow stuff up. I watched them religiously, and, to this date, I have not become a serial killer, although in the last couple of weeks, I’ve been sorely tempted.

About lunch time, mom took over the TV and except for when President Kennedy got shot, soap operas trumped everything in the world. They were Guiding Light, Search for Tomorrow and As the World Turns. Mom did not just sit and watch. She worked the entire time, but her chores were done in front of the TV except during commercial breaks. She often did ironing in that time. With three young children, it seemed like laundry was never ending. She had a wringer washer and a clothesline. As an aside, my sister Karen knew the clothesline well. Karen was so wild as a child, mom would put a leash on her and hook it to the clothesline when mom had to be outside. Just saying. But it did keep Karen alive as Karen was quick and would run out onto U.S. 27, which was just beyond our front yard.

Mom would allow me to iron dad’s handkerchiefs, and I also helped her fold clothes. However, and Ruth will be amazed by this, I often caught her refolding whatever I had folded. Ruth does that now. Some simple skills just don’t come easy for me.

When I wasn’t slowing mom down on her chores, I played. I still have not tired of playing.

For the time, mom was a really lenient mother. And as all who know me can attest, I did not get spoiled by that attitude.

She allowed me to play basketball in the house. During the winters, and it seemed much colder then, I had bad tonsils so I was kept inside. During the summer, I did not see the house’s interior except to eat and sleep. But during the winter, I would play indoor basketball. My parents’ house was sort of a shotgun house. Inside the front door was the living room. Next was mom and dad’s bedroom and that led to the kitchen and the backdoor. The bathroom was off the kitchen. My sisters and I slept upstairs. They got the good room, and I was stuck in the junk room. It was my first taste of seniority and also of gender bias.

I would set a clothes basket before the entrance to the kitchen and another by the front door. Those were my goals. I had a dime store ball that pretty well fit my hand, and I played against imaginary people. I also had imaginary teammates. I was a little kid so my shots often went high and wide while my passes could be off the mark or the more likely culprit was my imaginary teammates had bad hands. This led to breakage, at times. Mom never got upset.

My favorite sedentary game was a miniature pinball-type game called Bazooka. One shot marbles from a plunger-like device and gravity took the marble down where it could land in different slots worth different points such as 500 or 750 or 250. I always wanted to keep score whether it was basketball or any type game. So, I would put the scores my marbles made and then take my paper up to mom to add the numbers.

She soon tired of that. And while I was still 4 or 5, she taught me math. She told me the key was to keep my numbers straight and then it was all counting. She taught me how to carry over. She was a really good teacher. She made it seem simple, which was good for me. Thus, before my first day of grade school I could do addition of three and four column numbers.

I said mom was lenient, but she did have a temper. Usually, the words “wait till your father gets home” were said often, at least in my case, and usually that phrase was not an empty threat. When dad got home from his factory job and mom carried through on her threat, dad would make us cut our own switch from the hickory tree in the backyard. This was often times worse than getting the paddling. If one did not cut a switch that met dad’s expectations, then he would cut one, and nobody wanted that. So, one would have to find a switch that might not hurt too bad, but would hurt enough to pass the executioner’s inspection. That, in itself, was torture. Then, we got switched.

There were a few times mom took matters in her own hands.

Woodruff’s Supermarket in Liberty had both a front and a back entrance. We usually came in the back entrance. It had – to a youngster’s point of view – a long, steep ramp from the backdoor to the grocery store itself. It was made for boys to jump on the back of the shopping cart and ride it to the bottom. It was like sledding without the snow. Of course, I was not allowed to do that. But I dreamed about it every time we went in that backdoor, and that was at least once a week.

One week the temptation was just too great and before mom could do anything, I was off.

I once taught my daughter Katie how to ride a bike by pushing her down a steep hill at Whitewater Memorial State Park. When I let go of Katie’s bike, I thought to myself, “this is not a good idea.” By the grace of God, Katie survived without being maimed or disfigured. I had that same thought as I kept gaining speed on that shopping cart. I had no idea what I was going to do when I got to the bottom. I saved myself by hopping off the back of it and doing a rather good roll. The kart went on at a high rate of speed to an unknown ending.

Mom’s hand grabbed me off the floor and jerked me to my feet. I thought she might want to check for injuries and I was trying hard not to cry. But when I saw her face, I cried very hard. She paddled me really good. To make matters worse, it seemed every person in the store had stopped to watch, which they probably did.

It is amazing at the change in times from then to now. She would probably be arrested now, but those adults in that store all were shaking their heads in agreement to the extent of the whooping I was getting. However, the other kids in the store were more than a little pale thinking that could have been them, because I know every kid fantasized about doing what I had just done.

Fast forward to when I was about 15 or 16. Mom was driving, and we were going to Oxford for some reason. It was winter. There had been a wreck on U.S. 27 on the Oxford side past College Corner. Traffic was backed up. We finally crept past the wreck which was off the west side of the road near those grain elevators.

As others, during their high school years, I knew every student’s vehicle they drove. And when we went by, I was very happy none of the cars belonged to classmates. I verbalized that to my mother saying “good, it’s not anybody I know.”

I have never been a good fighter. Unfortunately, there were times I could not outrun people or talk them out of a fight, and then — on those times – I got my butt kicked. However, during those – it’s hard to call them fights as I really didn’t fight – let’s just call them beatings – I have never been hit as hard as my mom did that day after I uttered my statement.

It was an open-hand forehand slap to the side of my head. My head bounced off my passenger door window. I am happy the window did not break, because she hit me so hard I would have probably become a projectile ending up in the wreck as another victim. I saw stars. I saw colors. I am sure I had a concussion. It was by the grace of God it was not a skull fracture.

Mom said in a very unmom-like voice: “somebody knows them.”

Ruth reminded me of that the other day when I was reading an Indiana State Police press release about four people dying in a wreck on Nine Mile Road in Union County. I said “Good, it’s not anyone local.” And Ruth, without a moment’s pause, said “Did you forget about what your mom did?”

Mom was still alive at that time but was severely weakened. However, I believe if I had said that in her presence, she might have had one of her miracles just to slap my face one more time.

Mom had a heart attack when I was 16, which would have been 1973. Hopefully, it was not the slapping incident which caused it. Her family has a history of bad hearts. It seemed like she did not have long to live. Well, here we are now.

In the years between now and then, and I know I’m going to leave some miracles out, she survived a bypass surgery in Wisconsin when most everyone had written her off. She had an artery nicked during a stent procedure, and it was very much touch and go during that event.

She had a brain stem stroke where the neurologist told us it was time to pull the plug because there was no brain activity. We told her to hold off until the next day so we could sleep on it. Karen and some of mom’s grand kids spent the night with mom, and Jesus made an in-the-flesh appearance.

The next morning, much to the neurologist’s dismay, mom was joking around with that wonderful smile of hers plastered on her face. She was bothering everyone for a cup of coffee. When the neurologist told me this was not possible, I told her it was a miracle of God. She got really angry and said there is no God and there are no miracles. Fortunately, I have never seen that woman again.

There are really too many medical miracles to repeat, but I think it was last fall or winter, Linda told me to get to Columbus in a hurry as mom might not make it through the night or even the next hour. We sat by her bedside. She was seemingly unconscious and her heart rate was going from 115 to about 40 in the time it takes to talk about it. It continued up and down like a singer doing scales. Even though she was on oxygen, she was gasping for breath. One of Linda’s granddaughter’s, Jordyn, spent the night with mom. Around 5 a.m. the next morning mom asked a nurse for a cup of coffee.

Even with this last instance: When Linda, John, Ruth and I went to see mom, she could not wake up and seemingly did not know what was going on around her. Of course, with this stupid virus stuff, we could not touch her, hug her or kiss her, but talked to her through an open automatic door.

However, just a short time later she was eating orange popsicles and asking if she could see her boyfriend Donnie.

I was kind of shocked when Linda told me mom was dead, going in her sleep. I felt like asking Linda if she had checked to make sure.

But mom has had such a rich and wonderful life. Her character, her faith, everything about her has positively affected so many people. She loved to sing, and was singing the last time we were physically able to see her, the weekend before the shutdown. I asked Linda what mom was singing because I had never heard it before. It was Red River Valley. I had to Google it. The most famous rendition of the very old song came in the 1920s. Where or why it appeared in mom’s brain that day, I do not know.

But today and for the last few days mom is singing with the angels all the hymns she loved to sing and also, in case they don’t know it, she will teach them: Red River Valley.

FC clerk’s office sets county record for final results amid pandemic and related challenges

By John Estridge

For Franklin County Clerk Neysa Raible and her first deputy Ruth Rowlett, the 2020 Franklin County Primary Election was their third election since Raible took office Jan. 28, 2017.

To say the election was difficult and unusual is downplaying the situation. There is an ongoing world-wide pandemic, the primary was delayed due to the statewide Stay-at-Home Order, it was not known if there was going to be in-person voting until April 17, there were new voting machines in service and the vast majority of election workers were very new to the situation. For a large majority of those working at the 13 polling stations, this was their baptism by fire.

And the election results were finished in what is thought by many to be in a record time that goes back to the county’s beginning more than 200 years ago.

The results from the last precinct were posted at 7:16 p.m., exactly 76 minutes after the polls closed at 6 p.m., Tuesday, June 2. The first poll site to report was in at 6:20, 20 minutes after the polls closed, Raible said.

“It was almost scary that it went so well, because we expected it to be chaotic,” Raible said. “We feel very blessed that it did run very smooth.”

Pandemic and Stay-at-Home Order

Even before the pandemic, the 2020 election was deemed to be troublesome by those having to oversee the election. That is because of the impending presidential race and the alleged difficulties and influences that occurred with the 2016 presidential election.

Throw in the pandemic, new equipment and new employees, and this election was more than a handful.

On March 11 of this year, the World Health Organization declared Covid-19 a pandemic. That was followed by Indiana Gov. Eric Holcomb issuing a Stay-at-Home Order that took effect at 11:59 p.m., March 23.

Just before and immediately after the Stay-at-Home Order much in America came to a halt including a large majority of county government. When possible, county employees worked from home and the public was not allowed in the buildings. Much of that was not possible at the clerk’s office because of the nature of the office. It is the keeper of the Franklin Circuit Courts’ records. And it runs the county and the municipal elections within the county.

Due to those duties, many of the records and the work have to remain within the office and cannot be done from home, Raible said.

While the work of the circuit courts was slowed, there still remained initial hearings, emergency hearings and other items, which generated records such as motions and orders for the clerk’s office to record, distribute and keep.

With the election, the office had to continue to slog on even though much of how and when the election would eventually be held was in limbo.

“We did normal court things which were still going,” Raible said. “If we were a little slow, we had lots of the election (business to work on.)”

Absentee ballots

Raible said the impetus for the exponential increase in the number of mail-in absentee ballots came from the nature of the pandemic: Many people did not want to take part in the usual in-person voting process at the polling places on June 2. Instead, a large number of local voters chose to vote by mail.

According to Raible, during the 2016 presidential election, 208 absentee mail-in ballots were requested. For this election, the number expanded to 1,407, roughly a little less than a 700 percent increase. Absentee mail-in ballots started going out to the county’s voters who requested them on March 23.

She explained the absentee mail-in voting process.

A registered voter contacts the clerk’s office and requests an absentee mail-in ballot. The clerk’s office then sends an application to the registered voter. The person fills out the application and returns it to the clerk’s office in a self-addressed-stamped envelope.

Signatures from the voter are compared to what is on file in the clerk’s office before the ballot is sent out to that registered voter.

Then, the clerk’s office sends out the ballot to the voter. In turn, the voter completes the ballot and returns the ballot to the clerk’s office in another self-addressed-stamped envelope.

When the clerk’s office receives the completed ballot, the signature on the envelope’s exterior is again compared to the one on file. Those two documents are attached together and placed in a secure, locked box until election day.

During this election, the election board members were allowed to process the votes after the polls opened at 6 a.m. In prior elections, the process took place after noon.

An election board is made up of a registered Democrat, a registered Republican and the clerk. The election board members compare the signatures again on election-day morning after the locked, secure box is opened. They then separate the unopened ballot from the signature document so the vote will remain anonymous and confidential. The ballots are then processed through a card reader after the day’s mail run.

Results of the absentee votes were kept confidential by the voting machine technician who works the election with the clerk’s office. When the precincts come in after the polls close, then all the votes are tabulated together.

New voting machines

This is the first election in the county where the MicroVote voting machines were utilized.

According to Raible, the electronic machines look like touch-screen voting machines but utilize buttons along the sides of the screen.

“They are very simple,” Raible said. “You push the button for the candidate you want. If you make a mistake, you just press that button and it will uncheck him or her.”

A button allows the voter to progress a page. If a voter is unsure of what he or she voted, they can go to a previous page and examine it. After inspecting all the choices made, making sure they are correct, the voter hits the button next to the word “submit.” And then hits a big red button, which lights up after the submit button is engaged, to cast one’s vote.

There is a verifiable paper trail for the voting choices, which allows for a recount if a recount is needed, Raible said. This is called VVPAT which stands for verified voting paper audit trail. According to verfiedvoting.org, “the very prerequisite to accuracy, integrity and security in today’s voting technology is that there be a voter-marked paper ballot, or at least a voter-verifiable paper audit trail (VVPAT), for every vote cast. This ensures that election officials will have something they can use to confirm whether or not the electronic tallies produced by the voting system accurately reflected the intention of the voters.”

In prior elections, ballots had to be made up for specific precincts and any ballots left over were thrown away, costing the county about $8,000. However, with the new machines, ballots are no longer necessary. If people want ballots, they need to vote using the absentee mail-in process, Raible said.

New poll workers

Once the pandemic was declared, it became obvious to Raible she was going to have to find new poll workers.

“I started out calling all the inspectors who had worked in the past and asked them if they felt comfortable working,” Raible said. “A lot of them were hesitant.”

Some of the children of the former workers made it clear they did not want their parents working at the polls due to the dangers from the pandemic.

Thus, Raible contacted Franklin County High School and asked employees there to send her contact information on juniors and seniors who the employees felt were responsible and mature. Raible also knew of some college students who were home due to colleges closing and many were also out of work due to the pandemic.

Many counties consolidated polling places because of the paucity of poll workers. However, Raible decided against that and went with the usual 13 polling locations, because she said that would make it easier for voters and poll workers to do the necessary social distancing. Each polling location has a minimum of five workers: an inspector, two judges and two clerks. She put more workers at the historically busier polling locations.

Using those methods, Raible came up with 22 high school students and 14 college students. Of the 79 poll workers, 53 were doing it for the first time.

Training was problematic because of crowd restrictions due to the state pandemic regulations, Raible said. Thus, she set up five training sessions where the workers learned their duties and the operation of the new voting equipment. She also supplied written voting information for the workers to read.

All the poll workers understood the importance of their jobs, Raible said.

“They really knew that it was important because we stressed how important it was,” Raible said. “They took it very seriously. They were very good about what we told them they needed to do; they really tried to do their best. It gave them such a great experience. You have people come in and they’re glad to see the younger generation step up. Even when someone would compliment us on how well they did, it would just grip your heart. They are tomorrow. We’re just working today.”

Many of the new workers did things without being told. Raible said as one inspector ran the tapes after the polls closed, the young people were right behind her dismantling the machines. They did not have to wait and be told what to do.

Poll workers were provided personal protective equipment (PPE); however, while it was recommended the workers wear masks and gloves, they could not be made to wear the PPE. Containers of hand sanitizer were prevalent. Voting machines were sanitized after every use and both workers and voters abided by social distancing requirements. Even going through the repetitive sanitation procedures, there were few, if any, lines at the polling places, Raible said.

Courthouse changes

When the results were brought to the courthouse for tabulation, it was a changed environment there also.

In preceding elections, the poll workers brought the equipment and votes to the door to Raible and Rowlett’s office. The clerk’s office has three doors: one for the criminal side, one for the civil side and the one in the middle for access to Raible and Rowlett’s office.

A large screen is set up outside the civil doorway and incoming results are projected on the screen. Many people congregate on the other side of the hallway away from the large screen to watch the results and visit. Inside the civil side’s office, baskets are put out on the long counter for media and the parties where hard-copy results are placed in order for those entities to have easy access to hard copies of the results.

None of that could take place this year with social distancing.

Instead, tables were set up near the backdoor as it was the first stop for the poll workers bringing in the votes and equipment.

At the first table, people collected the forms the poll workers had to fill out. Around the corner were other tables. At those tables, provisional bags and equipment were turned in. Some college students helped carry equipment. A clerk’s office employee took over the tally card and took it to the MicroVote employee who tabulated the vote inside the clerk’s office.

Instead of being inside the courthouse watching the results on a big screen, candidates, their families, friends and other interested people waited out on Court Street and were handed hard copies of the updated results. Another blessing was the good weather for election day, Raible said.

It was all over in less than an hour from the first polling station reporting to the final results being posted.

It would be nice if the clerk’s office could take a breather at this point, but the general election is Tuesday, Nov. 3. Both parties have a chance to hold caucuses, sometimes called conventions, to fill out the ballots where no one ran for that party in the primary. Raible said they have until July 6. Also, school board candidates will be part of the general election.

Raible and Rowlett are going to plan as if the social distancing rules and pandemic concerns will still be here for the general election, but they will hope the pandemic will be historical by that point in time. Already, they have the envelopes ready for mail-in absentee voting. The only thing the envelopes lack is the official ballots. That will come later.

Whatever they are faced with, Raible is optimistic because of the good people working the election.

“Our office is awesome,” Raible said. “They’re just great. They do whatever needs to be done. The poll workers dealt with things well. Everyone did a great job. It’s all because of them that we were successful.”

Four killed in head-on collision on Nine Mile Road Sunday, June 7

ISP press release

Union County – Sunday afternoon, June 7, just after 3:30 p.m. Indiana State Police troopers and Union County Sheriff’s Department deputies were called to the 2700 block of Nine Mile Road for a report of a serious injury two-vehicle crash.  Trooper Luke Tipton arrived to find two vehicles had hit head on, and there were three fatalities at the scene.

The early investigation by Tipton and ISP crash reconstruction investigator trooper Mark Hanna indicates a Ford Fusion, driven by Savanna Kinder, 23, of Richmond, was southbound when her vehicle ran off the right side of the road. The driver overcorrected, and the car came back across the road into the path of a northbound Mercedes, with the two cars hitting head on in the northbound lane. 

The driver of the Fusion, Savanna Kinder, was pronounced dead at the scene.  The driver of the Mercedes,  Conner Brite, age 22 of Decatur,, age 22 of Decatur, as well as back seat passenger, Jordan Fuelling, age 20 of Decatur, also succumbed to their injuries at the scene. A front seat passenger, Trevor Ortiz, of Decatur, was transported from the scene but later succumbed to his injuries at a hospital.

It is believed excessive speed played a role in the cause of the collision. All occupants of both vehicles were wearing safety belts.  Troopers Tipton and Hanna were assisted at the scene by the Union County Sheriff’s Department, Liberty and Richmond Fire Departments and Spirit EMS.

A virus column

I had my own dress rehearsal for the virus quarantine after the Events I Can No Longer Talk About But Always Do (EICNLTABAD). Of course, I did not know it was a dress rehearsal for this at that time. At the time, it just frustrated me because everyday seemed the same, and I didn’t seem to improve from day to day.

Doctors at University of Cincinnati Hospital allowed me to come home to rehabilitate instead of sending me to the Drake Center or a nursing home. My Long Suffering Wife Ruth rented a hospital bed and put it in our formal living room. She stayed with me about a week but then had to go back to work. At least that was the excuse she used at the time.

I was not allowed outside the house except to go to physical therapy up on the hill at the McCullough-Hyde building. Then, it took Ruth and Patti, whom I used to work with at the paper, to help me get to the car. Those who worked at physical therapy were very good at their jobs by the way.

Because of my EICNLTABAD, I was very dizzy, my balance was that of a drunken man getting off a Tilt-a-Whirl and I had the strength of a jellyfish.

Thus, at least once a day while Ruth was at work, I tried to walk a little around the house’s interior to build up my strength. However, getting out of the bed, because of the debilitating dizziness, took a really long time with many pauses throughout the process. (I was taught by two young ladies at UC Hospital to sit perfectly still and stare at a point on a wall to ease my dizziness. Thus, just getting out of bed could take 15 minutes). A trip to the restroom had to be planned with stops in rest areas along the way. That was before I had access to ebooks and holding books wore me out as well as my dizziness caused me to be nauseous when I tried to read.

What I did do was watch TV.

I’ve written columns about how I love TV. It was my babysitter when I was preschool young and my mom did housework until the soaps came on in the afternoons. And then I watched the soaps with mom. TV has been an integral part of my life since my first memories formed and stayed with me until they began slipping away with my deepening aging process – that seemed to start about 30 years ago, well, maybe a little longer than that.

With the magic of a remote, that became like my talisman, my TV sometimes remained on 24 hours a day and sometimes slightly less, according to how soundly I slept if I slept at all.

My recovery time started sometime in February of 2008, which means the NCAA basketball season was deep into the conference schedules. East Coast and Midwest games were early in the evenings and West Coast games ran into the early morning. I thought I knew collegiate basketball better than at any time of my life. When March Madness came around, I had Ruth run me off a couple of brackets and I filled them out with confidence.

It was the worst showing I have ever had and let me tell you that bar was pretty low going into that year.

What I did get to do more than anything else was make up a list of my least favorite commercials. At that time, my least favorite commercial was J.G. Wentworth: It’s My Money and I Want It Now. The actors would sing – call 877-CASH-NOW — and I think they were on a bus. One was an opera singer, the proverbial fat lady wearing horns. I hated it with a passion. If I had been hooked up to a blood pressure monitor, alarms would have gone off every time that came on, and it came on a bunch.

This time my least favorite commercial is much worse than J.G. Wentworth. I don’t really know what they are selling because my mind has seizures when it comes on. It is a little girl with a screeching voice who is a coxswain in a boat engaged in a boat race.

She screeches until my ears bleed, which does not take long. Ruth long ago hid everything with sharp points, after she found where I had originally hid them. I hid them after she stayed with me this time (during the Stay-at-Home order) 24-7 for more than two days and was giving me looks that made me suspicious and more than a little frightened. Thus, I just have my ear-bleeding blackouts and nothing more dangerous occurs.

But back to the commercial: Her doting parents come in and find her running the restroom basin over – water rushes over the basin edge in a Niagara-like waterfall — as her toy boats ply the water by her spraying water from a toy watering can on them.

Her parents think it’s the funniest, most precious thing they ever seen as the water continues to cascade to the floor. They pick up the child and hug her, saying cute and reassuring things to her. They are proud as punch as the saying goes. It is something about making her dreams come true.

I cannot even imagine what my parents would have done to me if they found me doing something like that. Soaky toys were some of my greatest memories of baths back in the early to mid 60s. But had I spilled more than a little water on our rough bathroom floor in my parents’ home — my parents had to add indoor plumbing to the house after they bought it following the war. OMG. I probably still would have trouble sitting. They would have created nightmares instead of making sure my dreams became real.

Unfortunately, even though the current remote now has a mute button, Ruth rearranges the room a couple of times during an afternoon. It seems no matter the configuration, I cannot link up with the magic box so the remote refuses to work properly. Thus, it takes me several tries to get the TV to do anything near what I want it to. Also, I am usually reading or playing Facebook games or talking – by typing — on Messenger with any number of people so by the time I stop doing what I am doing, find the remote and hit the mute button where it actually works, the horrific commercial is mercifully over.

A P.S. here: As I do with everything I question, I Googled the commercial and found out it is selling American Family Insurance, which leaves me – since I still haven’t figured emojis out to use the female shrugging — with a non-comprehending shrug.

What is Whitewater Valley News and Sports.com?

My name is John Estridge. I was the editor of the Brookville Democrat/American for about 30 years and editor of the Liberty Herald for almost 20 years. I was fired by the relatively new newspaper owners on Jan. 30, 2020, two days after my 63rd birthday. I was told by two of the three new owners the reason I was being fired is the newspapers are going in a new direction. So, I decided to start a news and sports blog concerning the Whitewater Valley.

I want this to be somewhat like the old direction of the formerly named newspapers. I intend to allow Letters to the Fired Editor. All letters to the fired editor must contain one’s real name and contact information for me to contact. Thus, one had better use one’s own name or that person who wrote the letter will not be allowed to publish a letter to the fired editor again. I will publish the person’s name and town or city in which they live at the bottom of the letter. One can write about anything, but one cannot libel another. I will take emails: jestridge@yahoo.com. I will have a mailing address if one wants to go old school and do it through snail mail. As I did in the before-mentioned newspapers before the new owners took over, I will allow all opinions. Once they are published, people have to realize these are not my opinions. But I think it is important in America if everyone can express their opinions. I have always strongly believed that to be a right of every American.

Besides news and sports, I plan to put in items such as arrests, accidents, real estate transfers, court news and marriage licenses.

In the old direction, I also wrote columns, and I plan to continue that.

As those who knew me in the old direction, I am not tech savvy so there may be some free laughs along the way as I try to do simple things such as publish things like this. I have a pretty thick skin since I raised three children and now have grandchildren and great grandchildren so I can and do laugh at myself. And I am not offended when others laugh at me.

If anyone has an idea for an article, please email me or send something by snail mail when I get my mailing address set up.

Thank you.