Saturday, March 28, 2009

A Sad Day for Crothersville

It is a sad day for Crothersville! Something wonderful has ended. Hamacher Hall and the Heritage Haus Restaurant are now a thing of the past. There was an article in last night's (Seymour) Tribune attempting to explain it all, but the future is particularly unclear. I do not believe that Hamacher Hall, designated Crothersville's historical and cultural arts center, had outlived its purpose. It became whatever it needed to be at the time--a place to display Indiana history artifacts, a place for scarecrow and tree-trimming contests, a place for individuals to combine their pieces of Crothersville history into a more complete picture, a place to perform amateur play productions, a place for area musicians to perform, a place to host meetings, and occasionally a place for grander, more formal events. The food at the restaurant was always delicious, and the tea was unsurpassed. Marcia Fleetwood, the director, obviously was dedicated to every aspect of her work, and was innovative in her approach, while not ignoring lessons from past experience.
I am grieved that the Crothersville community was not more welcoming, accepting, and encouraging of Marcia and her efforts. She worked wholeheartedly and sacrificially at the task she had accepted. It is disheartening to see one's efforts brought to nought. Community support was to a great extent lacking for any endeavor which was undertaken. Surely Crothersville still needs a place to display its history, a place to host meetings, and another restaurant. Surely it is to our advantage to have a place for performing and enjoying music, plays, and special events. So what happens now? We go out of town for what we want and need, instead of obtaining at least some of those experiences locally. If Crothersville is to make progress in becoming what it has the potential to become, then Crothersville's people are going to have to examine their attitudes toward "strangers" and "outsiders." We are going to have to do more than talk about our small-town friendliness and Hoosier hospitality; we are going to have to practice it! We are going to have to get to know newcomers, rather than just listen to others' opinions or gossip!

Sunday, March 1, 2009

In Memory
of
Carl Franklin (Frank) Sanders
March 1, 1920 - September 26, 2000
My Dad
My dad loved me. I was "Daddy's Little Girl," his firstborn. I remember how he worked every day at Crane (NAD then) as an Electronics Technician. I remember when he would pick berries or get pawpaws over by the river, or cook rabbit or squirrel, or just fix breakfast once in a while. When I was very young he would buy these little pencil drawings from me for a nickel. He installed indoor plumbing in our house; he was quite a handyman. He was organized and smart, even though he did not have a high school diploma. He took a correspondence course to learn radio and TV repair, and he repaired them for not very much money, since he knew no one had much. He used to go to Bedford to get parts, and he carried this caddy around. He could also wire houses and inspect wiring. Those were ways of adding to his income. And he added rooms onto our house as the family grew larger.
He used to take us for rides on Sunday afternoons. And I remember one time that he took me to Queen's Clothing Store in Shoals to get a dress and shoes for a band concert. (The dress was coral and had tucks in front and a gathered skirt.) I also remember how he would transport me to church, and later to Bible college.
I remember when he "gave me away" at my wedding. He wouldn't take sides when John and I argued, and he probably had more empathy with John's physical difficulties than anyone I know. He spent time with our sons, and he thought they turned out well--he told me so!
Dad wasn't very demonstrative, but I remember that at some point in his later years, I started kissing him good-bye when I left, and later it became the expected thing. In his later years he accepted Christ and was baptized, and I remember the sermon at his funeral about the workers who worked different amounts of time but received the same reward. It will be a joy to see him again in eternity!
I know my Dad was always proud of all of us, his seven children; he sacrificed for us and gave us everything he could, and I know he often went in debt doing it! The person he was was shown in the things he did and the care with which he did them.
(Tribute and lots of photos on thewarrens-cliffandsusan.blogspot.com)