Our constantly changing view

Our constantly changing view

   My life’s various occupations have not satisfied my ultimate financial aspirations, whatever “ultimate” may be. My life’s various occupations have

not measured up to my original intent, derived upon at age 9, that I would play baseball forever. (Let’s play two today, Ernie Banks.) My life’s

various occupations have, however, kept me from dying of occupational boredom at an early age.

   As an erstwhile surveyor, I learned that no two properties were the same; and no two days measuring other people’s land were alike. And, back in the old days, if the surveyor were having difficulties locating the deed-referenced “old oak stump,” or “railroad spike” in the middle of a paved-over county road, one of the best courses of action was to speak to the oldest living man or woman in the neighborhood. More often than not, they would recall where the first property line fences ran, how the local roads had changed, and what year the old oak stump washed downstream.

   In later – and simultaneous – years, the ink (literally) got in my veins. Operating a printing press for 12 hours a day, six days a week, will

leave its impressions. (Pun intended for all press operators who know an impression cylinder from a plate cylinder.)

   This year marks my 30th year in the printing/publishing industry. (I started at a young age, thank you very much!) And in keeping with my life’s various occupations, it’s safe to say there’s never been a dull moment, nor two days alike.

   There’s an old saying in the sport of sled dog racing, “Unless you’re the lead dog, the view never changes.” Our view is constantly changing – and

that’s a good thing.

   Consider, in this past week alone:

   * We’ve met with local veterans on the observance of Memorial Day 2010. (Thank you all for your service.)

   * We’ve met with a Korean-American, Vietnam veteran and marathon man, Mr. Yijoo Kwon, who is running from California to New York for diabetes

awareness. We caught up with Mr. Kwon along U.S. Route 50 in front of Ohio Valley Truss, thanks to an anonymous caller from Terry’s Grocery in

Dodsonville.

   * We’ve sat in the dining room of Mr. Harold Shelton, who has had sleepless nights trying to devise a solution for the BP Gulf oil spill.

While he may lack an engineer’s pedigree, he does have an interesting and, perhaps practical, plan to control the leak. We should all be as mentally

sharp and mechanically inclined as Mr. Shelton.

* We’ve met with dozens of Highland County Fair supporters who are bound and determined to ensure a successful 2010 edition of one of Ohio’s (and the

nation’s) best county fairs, despite the present economy. Their collective enthusiasm is contagious.

   * We’ve met with Richard Blankenship, who this weekend is proudly welcoming Archbishop Dennis Schnurr of the Cincinnati Archdiocese into his Highland County home. Fr. Schnurr was named Archbishop of Cincinnati by Pope Benedict XVI.

   Fr. Mike Paraniuk of St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Hillsboro and St. Benignus Catholic Church in Greenfield told The Highland  County Press the outdoor service planned at Mr. Blankenship’s farm is something the churches usually have once a year.

   “We will be surrounded by trees, and it just gives it a holy atmosphere. Instead of mass being said in a church building, ... built by the hands of man, we are in a church built by the hands of God.”

   * We’ve met with Eleanor Louise Curtis Cumberland, the wife of one of my former Little League baseball coaches.

   Miss Eleanor and her husband, James Henry Cumberland, are celebrating 50 years of marriage this year. They were united in marriage at New Hope

Baptist Church in Hillsboro on June 18, 1960. They were married by the late Don W. Harris.

   Miss Eleanor, who worked with my wife at Highland District Hospital for many years, told our daughter, Meghan, that she and Jim are “50 years

stronger.” They sure are. 

   And I can’t thank Coach Cumberland enough for being so good to me so many years ago. Those remain wonderful memories from the baseball diamond.

   There were, of course, many other memorable moments this past week as there are each and every week. It’s one of the reasons those of us in this

business enjoy it so much. We simply do not have time for boredom. Life happens and we do our best to fairly and accurately record the first drafts

of it.

   On a closing – and personal – note, this past week also brought the unfortunate news  of the passing of Frank W. “Squeak” Collins. Squeak was

one of this city’s finest. He did so much for the Hillsboro Little League baseball program. And he did it without fanfare or publicity.

   I always thought of Squeak to be a cantankerous, lovable cuss. If he liked you, he liked you. If he didn’t, Katie bar the door.

   I liked Squeak. He was always a gentleman to my mother and my wife, whether they needed a new appliance or the right vacuum cleaner bag. His

son, Danny, is one of a kind, too. They are great people.

With the passing of Frank Collins and Homer Webster, South High Street in Hillsboro will never be the same for those of us who grew up knowing they kept a watchful eye on the historic uptown area.

   Others are now called upon to continue such traditions.

   Rory Ryan is publisher and editor of The Highland County Press.

My life’s various occupations have not satisfied my ultimate financial aspirations, whatever “ultimate” may be. My life’s various occupations have

not measured up to my original intent, derived upon at age 9, that I would play baseball forever. (Let’s play two today, Ernie Banks.) My life’s various occupations have, however, kept me from dying of occupational boredom at an early age.

   As an erstwhile surveyor, I learned that no two properties were the same; and no two days measuring other people’s land were alike. And, back in the old days, if the surveyor were having difficulties locating the deed-referenced “old oak stump,” or “railroad spike” in the middle of a paved-over county road, one of the best courses of action was to speak to the oldest living man or woman in the neighborhood. More often than not, they would recall where the first property line fences ran, how the local roads had changed, and what year the old oak stump washed downstream.

   In later – and simultaneous – years, the ink (literally) got in my veins. Operating a printing press for 12 hours a day, six days a week, will leave its impressions. (Pun intended for all press operators who know an impression cylinder from a plate cylinder.)

   This year marks my 30th year in the printing/publishing industry. (I started at a young age, thank you very much!) And in keeping with my life’s various occupations, it’s safe to say there’s never been a dull moment, nor two days alike.

   There’s an old saying in the sport of sled dog racing, “Unless you’re the lead dog, the view never changes.” Our view is constantly changing – and that’s a good thing.

   Consider, in this past week alone:

   * We’ve met with local veterans on the observance of Memorial Day 2010. (Thank you all for your service.)

   * We’ve met with a Korean-American, Vietnam veteran and marathon man, Mr. Yijoo Kwon, who is running from California to New York for diabetes awareness. We caught up with Mr. Kwon along U.S. Route 50 in front of Ohio Valley Truss, thanks to an anonymous caller from Terry’s Grocery in Dodsonville.

   * We’ve sat in the dining room of Mr. Harold Shelton, who has had sleepless nights trying to devise a solution for the BP Gulf oil spill. While he may lack an engineer’s pedigree, he does have an interesting and, perhaps practical, plan to control the leak. We should all be as mentally sharp and mechanically inclined as Mr. Shelton.

* We’ve met with dozens of Highland County Fair supporters who are bound and determined to ensure a successful 2010 edition of one of Ohio’s (and the

nation’s) best county fairs, despite the present economy. Their collective enthusiasm is contagious.

   * We’ve met with Richard Blankenship, who this weekend is proudly welcoming Archbishop Dennis Schnurr of the Cincinnati Archdiocese into his Highland County home. Fr. Schnurr was named Archbishop of Cincinnati by Pope Benedict XVI.

   Fr. Mike Paraniuk of St. Mary’s Catholic Church in Hillsboro and St. Benignus Catholic Church in Greenfield told The Highland  County Press the outdoor service planned at Mr. Blankenship’s farm is something the churches usually have once a year.

   “We will be surrounded by trees, and it just gives it a holy atmosphere. Instead of mass being said in a church building, ... built by the hands of man, we are in a church built by the hands of God.”

   * We’ve met with Eleanor Louise Curtis Cumberland, the wife of one of my former Little League baseball coaches.

   Miss Eleanor and her husband, James Henry Cumberland, are celebrating 50 years of marriage this year. They were united in marriage at New Hope Baptist Church in Hillsboro on June 18, 1960. They were married by the late Don W. Harris.

   Miss Eleanor, who worked with my wife at Highland District Hospital for many years, told our daughter, Meghan, that she and Jim are “50 years stronger.” They sure are. 

   And I can’t thank Coach Cumberland enough for being so good to me so many years ago. Those remain wonderful memories from the baseball diamond.

   There were, of course, many other memorable moments this past week as there are each and every week. It’s one of the reasons those of us in this

business enjoy it so much. We simply do not have time for boredom. Life happens and we do our best to fairly and accurately record the first drafts of it.

   On a closing – and personal – note, this past week also brought the unfortunate news  of the passing of Frank W. “Squeak” Collins. Squeak was

one of this city’s finest. He did so much for the Hillsboro Little League baseball program. And he did it without fanfare or publicity.

   I always thought of Squeak to be a cantankerous, lovable cuss. If he liked you, he liked you. If he didn’t, Katie bar the door.

   I liked Squeak. He was always a gentleman to my mother and my wife, whether they needed a new appliance or the right vacuum cleaner bag. His son, Danny, is one of a kind, too. They are great people.

With the passing of Frank Collins and Homer Webster, South High Street in Hillsboro will never be the same for those of us who grew up knowing they kept a watchful eye on the historic uptown area.

   Others are now called upon to continue such traditions.

   Rory Ryan is publisher and editor of The Highland County Press.