Posey Magazine January/February 2013 by J. Bruce Baumann

January/February 2013

www.poseymagazine.com

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January/February 2013

A magazine for and about

Posey County, Indiana

“The ultimate goal of farming is not the growing of crops, but the cultivation and perfection of human beings.” — Masanobu Fukuoka “You cannot dream yourself into a character: you must hammer and forge yourself into one.” — Henry David Thoreau “The mind can go in a thousand directions, but on this beautiful path, I walk in peace. With each step, the wind blows. With each step, a flower blooms.” —Thich Nhat Hanh

Cover story

Writer Briana Petty reports on the work of photographer Charles W. Cushman, who traveled the country from 1938 to 1969 taking a visual history as he went along. Cushman shot Kodachrome slides, including many in Posey County, where he was born. These ‘urchins’ live near the Ohio River, at Mount Vernon, and the picture was taken sometime in October, 1940. He did not record their names in his notebook. All of his 14,500 color slides are now part of the Indiana University Archives. Special thanks to the following for their help

“Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe “The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect, he becomes an adolescent; the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult; the day he forgives himself, he becomes wise.” —Alden Nowlan, poet, novelist, and playwright (1933-1983)

Betsy Passmore, Briana Petty, Joseph Poccia, Indiana University Archives

AN EXAMINED LIFE W

inter has officially arrived at my doorstep, bringing with it a season of introspection. After all, when the gray skies that greet me when I arise scarcely change their hue as the day stretches into evening, I struggle to stay awake and aware of life’s possibilities. The surest way for me to do that is to ask myself questions and to search for the answers within myself and in the guideposts that great thinkers have left behind. So I ask, what are my core values and how can I express them in the work that I do? Aristotle said that to live without a goal in life is a mark of much folly. Nietzsche wrote, “He who has a why to live for can bear with almost any how.” Socrates said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” So how does one examine one’s life? Thoreau wrote that a “man is rich in proportion to the

number of things he can afford to let alone.” So what must I have to live a rich life? How can I pare life down to its essentials? Buddha said, “All that we are arises with our thoughts, with our thoughts we make the world.” So what do I think? I think that education is an endless, ongoing process. It is a journey, not a destination. It is a trip best shared with kindred spirits. I think that conversation, and nurturing the art of conversation, is one of the ways to transform our lives and to learn what we have learned. I think that choosing the friends with whom we share our thoughts and our lives is not a task to be taken lightly. They must be people who challenge us and demand that we stretch and grow and become the best we can be. I think that art is essential to a

fully realized life. It lifts us up and allows us to embrace the beauties that surround us. And I think art is visual, musical. It extends to food and clothing and all things appreciated by the senses. And life is too brief to settle for the ordinary. Simple is fine, but not ordinary. I think that I must have laughter in my life regularly and routinely. Nothing weaves a web of warmth like the ring of hearty laughter. I think that it is imperative for me to ask questions that I cannot answer and to attempt tasks that I cannot achieve. I think that I must treat life as an experiment. I must take chances. I must say things I have never said before. I must do things I have never done before. I must seize the day. If not now, when? What do you think? —Charlene Tolbert Contributing Editor Posey Magazine She can be contacted at: poseymagazine@aol.com

New Harmony, Indiana

POSEY POSTCARD

“Life is not complex. We are complex. Life is simple, and the simple thing is the right thing.” —Oscar Wilde

Freezing moments of American culture

November 1938: Tall corn in the Wabash bottoms on Grand Chain Farm, where tall corn really grows.

By Briana Petty

A 42-year-old photographer peers through the viewfinder of his compact

Contax IIA camera on a bright November day in 1938. To the left of the frame, his crimson-colored coupe, dwarfed by skeletal stalks of dried corn, nuzzles the side of a road in Posey County, Indiana. A cloud-puffed blue sky spans the top of the frame. Charles Cushman snaps the shutter to capture this slice of time in the brilliant colors of Kodachrome slide film. Between 1938 and 1969, Cushman would produce 14,500 color slides, freezing moments of American culture. His images both illustrate a period spanning many changes and preserve vignettes we are more accustomed to seeing in black and white. It is unclear whether Cushman realized the significance of his slide collection, though his careful documentation of each slide in more than two dozen notebooks implies his hope the information would prove useful. As his work draws more attention from photographers, journalists, and historians worldwide, it is clear that Cushman’s collection provides a unique lens through which to view the middle years of the twentieth century. Cushman’s story begins in Poseyville, Indiana in 1896. The nation is Briana Petty’s story originated in Indiana University’s 812 Magazine

Oct. 25, 1941: Farm scene, Marrs Township., Posey County, Indiana

Oct. 12, 1945: Main Street, Poseyville at noon.

growing, wide swathes connected by railways or canals and new manufacturing technologies making resources available more cheaply. In the small pioneer-settled town of Poseyville, though, the rhythms of daily life remain stable and predictable. Wilbur Davis and Mabel Thomas Cushman welcome their new son. Charles Weever Cushman, born on the 30th of July, was named after his maternal great-grandfather. Proud of his pioneer-based ancestry, Cushman writes at age 70 that his namesake was a “distinguished citizen and early physician of Mt. Vernon, Indiana” who had “brought his young family west by wagon from Somerset County, Maine.” Raised by parents regarded as “leaders of the town,” Cushman was an only child after the early death of his older sister, Ethel. Though little else is known of Cushman’s early years, it is certain that he graduated from Poseyville High School in 1913 and moved to Bloomington in 1914 to study English and commercial law at Indiana University. At some point before 1915, Cushman became enamored with black and white photography, a key to the extent of his experience with the craft by the time he began his thirty-year love affair with color slide technology. Within a year of graduating from Indiana University in 1917 with an AB in English, Cushman enlisted in the U.S. Navy Auxiliary Reserve force in Chicago and, sadly, lost his father, both in the early summer of 1918. Cushman was released from active duty in December and was honorably discharged in September of 1921. He wryly comments (in a letter) that his time in the Navy was “about as unpoetic a military career as any” and that he was “essentially a freshwater sailor, as [he] never got further east than Buffalo, [New York].” For several years, Cushman bobbed from one retail business to another in Chicago, with his longest stints at the Addressograph Company and South Side Rugwashers. In early 1922, he settled into a position as editor and research consultant at LaSalle Extension University, where he created newsletters and other business-oriented materials. During this time, he met and married (Elsa) Jean

June 3, 1942: Combining oats, Marrs Township, Posey County, Indiana

Oct. 20, 1946: Two horses graze near pink farmhouse new Upton, Posey County.

April 15, 1941: Posey County barnyard in spring, near Old Dam on the Wabash.

Hamilton, whose first cousin was author John Steinbeck (not yet famed) and whose father was Joe R. Hamilton, one of the most successful advertising men in Chicago at the time. Charles and Jean married on June 21, 1924, and remained together until Jean’s death in 1969. In August of 1928, Cushman moved to New York City to edit a financial magazine for Standard Statistics & Co., but he was back in Chicago by the following spring, directing the Midwest branch of a field analytical staff. For the next several years, he traveled throughout the Midwest, establishing relationships with corporate officials to ferret out classified information about the financial conditions of major businesses. In the summer of 1932, Cushman helped establish an American franchise of the successful Canadian brewing company, Drewry’s. Cushman was to become treasurer and secretary of Drewry’s Limited, USA, which contracted with Sterling Brewery in Evansville, Indiana to brew its beer, a decision that could have been inspired by Cushman’s native familiarity with the area. When Cushman divorced himself from Drewry’s in January of 1937, his comfortable financial means allowed him to begin his travels, and his photography, in earnest, bringing us back to where we first met him, behind the viewfinder of his compact camera in a cornfield in Posey County. Eric Sandweiss, associate professor of history at Indiana University and author of a book about Cushman entitled A Day in its Color, believes the medley of occupations could reveal something about Cushman’s view of the world: “Anybody that likes to travel that much probably has trouble sitting still.” And travel he did. In 1936, Kodachrome film ushered in the era of color slide photography, and Cushman’s adoption of the technology in 1938 was earlier than many. The film cost $3.50 (equivalent to $50 today) which included its expensive processing but priced it out of the range of most amateurs. Claude Cookman, a journalism professor at Indiana University with expertise in photography, considers significant both Cushman’s medium

April 16, 1941: Proud grandpa watches solo rope skip, New Harmony, Ind., Posey County.

June 7, 1942: White clouds hang over the Ohio River, Mt. Vernon, Indiana.

April 23, 1948: High water on Ind. Hwy 69, near Greathouse School, Point Township, from the flood waters of the Ohio and Wabash Rivers.

April 1939: Charles W. Cushman and his wife Jean on Pancoast Beach, Miami Beach coast. and his documentation style: “He spent a sustained time and effort on photography. Most amateurs would go to a place and snap one picture of their family. He explored different visual ideas and wasn’t satisfied to stop with a single photo.” Charles and Jean Cushman traversed the nation repeatedly between 1937 and 1942, with multiple visits to Posey County. He inaugurated the Kodachrome film in September 1938 with multiple views of the Golden Gate Bridge, and his choices of subject matter range widely, from views of national parks to sunbathers along Lake Michigan, from hot dog venders in New York City to cattle grazing in the fields of southwestern Indiana. When he records color images of Posey County in 1938, Cushman is capturing a way of life already disappearing throughout the country. In one iconic slide, two farmers,a husband and wife team, set off to harvest in opposite directions, using contrasting technologies, one pulled by two horses, the

other driving a tractor: a brilliant metaphor for two diverging ways of life. Posey County was not just Cushman’s native land: it represented a lifestyle he counted worthy of recording permanently in bright colors. Cushman’s Posey County landscapes preserve the fiery colors of autumn leaves, the soft glow of sunsets, and the Wabash bottoms. He also captured people on film, with his impromptu shots of children giveaways to his ability to charm, as little children grin happily or simply ignore him, like one little girl picking violets on a Posey County morning. His vision is unique: “He had good instincts for photographing the streets,” professional documentary photographer, Rich Remsburg observes. “He saw what a beautiful theatrical production life could be.” Few people remain who knew Cushman. He and Jean had no children, and his second wife, Elizabeth Penniman, passed on in 2003 after donating his materials to the Indiana University Archives. “That key testimony is still out there somewhere,”

April 16, 1941: Two women at Grand Chain on the Wabash River, Posey County, Indiana.

June 30, 1951: Anne & Aunt Neal at home, Mt. Vernon, Indiana. Sandweiss says. “You wouldn’t have to be all that old to remember Charles Cushman. Somebody must have overlapped with his life.” Until that voice is brought to light, the story rests heavily on his letters and slides. Posey County remains largely a farming community with the same courthouse, though trees and flowers now frame the building. Poseyville’s Main Street, too, retains many of the same buildings, though with different businesses. J. Bruce Baumann, editor of Posey Magazine, relates easily to Cushman’s images through his own knowledge of the region. In one, a silver coupe passes pink budding trees on Grand Chain Road. “When you get to the top of that hill my driveway is to the right of that,” Baumann says. “I’m about a half mile from that road.” Baumann, whose love of photography began in high school, comments:

“To be able to stop and hold something forever is, to me, a wonderful thing.” Time passes and towns adjust. Some places change drastically; others hold onto their past. And Cushman’s vision becomes history etched in Kodachrome colors. “I think he was always focused on what remained,” Sandweiss says. “Not just in Poseyville, but everywhere. He was always focused on reminding himself that things linger and last looking in the continuities. And Southern Indiana is a real good place to do that.” Briana Petty is a student at Indiana University studying Journalism and International Studies. When she isn’t writing or photographing, she enjoys painting and finding peace in the great outdoors. She can be contacted at: poseymagazine@aol.com.

April 17, 1941: Little girl at Upton, Ind, looks at violets in early morning. She was born May 28, 1939.

Poetry

Careless Love and the Old Dam Road This love swept through like a tornado -This love ripped up house, marriage, friends Sent me barrelling through swirling air currents Like a witch on a bicycle, climbing the whirlwind, Flinging papers, gardens, commitments, whole towns aside Like so much chalk dust, like so much salt flung over your shoulder, Leaving no recognizable order, no sense, Only a terrible job of work to be done, Work to recalibrate, work to re-establish Some safety, some history, Some new life out of the ruins. All this so that you and I could turn by chance Onto a canopied green dirt road, Drive through a thickly wooded hollow and Walk over dust-dirt drive, walk half way across the wide, rippling Wabash On a sedimentary rock shelf Feel the currentâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s breeze on our faces, See the waters flowing toward us, past us and away, Point at clouds of bugs hovering over the water, Spot the almond-sized fish breaking the surface in crazy hops, Notice a white-muzzled beagle, nose to the ground, eyes on us, Trotting along the bank. â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Rebecca Jessup

Posey Portrait

Kane Asa Huntsman with his dad — Donald.

Posey Portrait will feature a random photograph of a friend or neighbor — in a place we call home

Feathers/By Sharon Sorenson

Quietly perched on a ladder, this hawk hunts for prey in the new snow. Waiting. Patiently.

Her Majesty, the

HAWK

er “keer-keer-keer” pealed across the sky as she skimmed the treetops, finally disappearing below the tree line. Smiling to myself, just knowing the magnificent red-shouldered hawk remained in the neighborhood, I went about my outdoor task, filling winter feeders. Then the shots rang out, three in quick succession, from somewhere in her direction. And the sky went silent. Scanning the steel-gray clouds, I saw nothing. Could the shots have been aimed at her, this wonderful mouse-catching creature that has nested here for the past two years, strutting for her mate within our camera’s eye, teaching her offspring to hunt from our poplar tree, soaring across the pasture to post vigil from the pecan tree? Was someone target shooting? Or firing legitimate shots at legal prey? Maybe rabbit hunting? Or purposely trying to scare the hawk away? Or kill her?

The majestic red-shouldered hawk appears as if painted in the sky, making it easiy to identify it from other hawks.

Sitting with his mate, it’s easy to differentiate the smaller male.

A frog was invited for lunch. Fretting over the possibilities, I finished filling feeders mindlessly, forced myself back inside, and brooded. Nothing would free my mind. So I pulled on boots, zipped up a hooded jacket and headed out to walk the woods, check the ravines, search the creek banks, afraid I’d find her body. Or afraid I wouldn’t, in case she lay wounded. The feeble calls that seemed to emanate from just over the hill—were they her weakened cries, or just a blue jay playing its Academy Award-

winning role of hawk mimic? My search revealed but a single clue: Caught among the tangle of multiflora rose limbs, a single breast feather, the rusty striping clearly hers, fluttered in the stiff wind. It was the only part of her I found. Two days later I saw her mate, gliding silently over the same woods where I saw her last. Now, a week later, I still strain to hear her call. Nothing. I’ll never know what happened, of

course. But I’m angry all the same. It’s true that when I was a kid, lots of folks shot “chicken hawks.” And a chicken hawk was any hawk that showed up near the farm lot, threatening, we thought, our Sunday friedchicken dinner. And some folks still carry the misinformation with them that hawks—hawks of any kind—are threats that must be stifled. But most of us know better. Posey County’s large hawks—the red-shouldered and red-tailed varieties—prefer mice, voles, bunnies, even a squirrel or two. The Cooper’s

Catching an air current, this beautiful red-shouldered hawk soars in search of food.

ÂŠ Photograph by Sharon Sorenson

A red-shouldered hawk is seen “calling.”

and sharp-shinned hawks, while they do snatch an occasional yard bird, manage to snag only the weak or slow. They’re really Mother Nature’s way of strengthening the gene pool. But let’s put it another way: Taking a bird anywhere in the U.S. is a federal crime punishable by up to a $15,000 fine and six months in prison. According to the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918, all migratory birds and their parts (including eggs, nests, and feathers) are fully protected. The Act refers to “taking” as meaning “pursuing, hunting, shooting, poisoning, wounding, killing, capturing, trapping, or collecting.” Hawks included. While I’ll continue to scan the skies for Her Majesty the red-shouldered hawk this winter, I’ll also be counting everything else I see. February 15-18 marks the Great Backyard Bird Count, co-sponsored by Cornell University and the National Audubon Society. If you haven’t planned to already, please join the rest of North America in the largest citizen-science project in the world by counting birds in your yard, neighborhood, park, or public lands and entering your data (or checking details for counting) online at www.birdsource.org/gbbc. Hawks ought to count double.

Sharon and Charles Sorenson settled in St. Philip in 1966 and continue to improve their certified backyard wildlife habitat that to date has hosted 161 bird species and 53 butterfly species. Send your bird questions and comments to them or contact them for publicvenue programs, conferences, or seminars at: forthebirdscolumn@yahoo.com.

Out of the frame/J. Bruce Baumann

Out of the frame focuses on moments found without a story or context. We all pass something that catches our eye and tweaks our curiosity during the course of everyday living. Sometimes it makes us smile or even chuckle. You might say it tickles the mind. Other times it makes us think about life in a serious way. Regardless of how we react, in that instant the image touches a part of our brain or heart and becomes part of who we are. For the moment it takes us out of the frame.

Photograph by J. Bruce Baumann

A walk among the ghosts of Posey County J

im Bishop once said, “A newspaper is lumber made malleable. It is ink made into words and pictures. It is conceived, born, grows up, and dies of old age in a day.” Although this quotation is quite true, Bishop left out the fact that by reading through these “dead” news items, we can resurrect what life was like in a by-gone era. In the 1800’s, Mount Vernon, IN, was home to a number of newspapers, including the German language paper the Mt. Vernon Wochanblatt (Weekly), the Mount Vernon Democrat, and The Western Star. Thanks to Ilse Dorsch Horacek, who scoured the newspapers, translated the articles when necessary, and compiled them into bound volumes, we can step back in time and walk among the ghosts of Posey County. Nov. 15, 1878 A beggar, playing a little tune, sat down to rest on widow Aldrich’s front porch. Since she is neither a lover of music nor of beggars, and is known for her short temper and great strength, the poor man received such a thrashing with her broom that he was obligated to find a physician to bind up his wounds. Jan. 31, 1879 It was erroneously reported in this paper that Alfred Pendall of Caborn was found frozen to death. He notified us of enjoying excellent health. Several local children have contracted lead poisoning from eating the paint on their wooden dolls. If you are caught lying to a reporter of this paper, you will be billed double for your subscription.

March 14, 1879 One never ceases to be amazed at the progress of science and the new inventions which are emerging daily. Mt. Vernon has an inventor in our midst; Mr. Heironimus, the blacksmith, has a patent pending for a new way of quickly replacing broken wagon springs. April 4, 1879 Saturday night’s entertainment was a medicine show which drew many gullible souls. They lent their ears to the well-oiled tongues of five quacks who promised their elixirs cures from toothaches to cramps. Empty purses of many town folks were the only results. May 2, 1879 Nothing has been found of little George Neuman who has been missing for nearly two weeks. Some believe that he might have been taken by a band of gypsies who camped outside of town on the night of his disappearance. May 9, 1879 Discovered also Tuesday afternoon was the body of little George Neumann in the cistern behind the Presbyterian Church. Coroner Hendrich’s verdict was accidental drowning. It remains, however, a mystery how this child got into the cistern. Little George was buried Wednesday; this is the third tragedy involving the children of the Neumann family. June 27, 1879 Two more divorces shame this county. Editor’s note: Would it help to restore dignity and morals in publishing the names of the above? Many more scandals are known to us. July 18, 1879 Several boys were bathing in the creek as Mrs. Dickson of Marrs Township drove her team

across the bridge. The noise in the water below so excited the horses that they shied and threw her from the seat, and she found herself in the water with several nude young men. August 8, 1879 A four-foot long alligator was caught last week in the Wabash River at New Harmony. October 31, 1879 A lucky, but boastful, hunter bagged a 145 pound elk in Point Township last week. One evening last week, Moick O’Flynn drank so much devil’s water at a New Harmony tavern, that on his way home he sat down to rest on the railroad tracks near the Wabash bridge. Drowsy O’Flynn did not hear the whistle of an approaching L&N train, but miraculously was thrown into the ditch by the force of the oncoming train. He received only minor injuries and was seen walking home, shaking his head and muttering to himself. November 28, 1879 The seventeenth child was born Friday to Mr. & Mrs. Anton Raben of St. Wendel. Last Saturday night saw more drunks—and the inevitable resulting fights and brawls—than any time in the past 25 years. Two married ladies who were quite tipsy made the streets unsafe by driving their buggies in a wild manner up one street and down the other. If this should happen again, we will not hesitate to publish their names. January 8, 1880 Despite the protest of many citizens, an iron fence has been put up around our beautiful court house. It seems, however, to be anchored very insecurely and it is feared that the first stray

hog, rubbing its back against it, will cause it to fall down. January 30, 1880 Wadesville citizens took it upon themselves to clean up a certain dwelling, otherwise known as a bordello. February 13, 1880 A local jeweler told us that next to bracelets, anklets of silver chain are the latest fad. Some day they will wear nose rings. February 27, 1880 The ladies of Bugtown in Robb Township have established a new literary club. January 25, 1883 A strange story comes from Stewartsville about the 13-year-old son of the Cox family, who, with a wound two inches long on the right side of his head, & with his brain exposed, is yet able to walk about the house & seems to suffer no discomfort. The injury is the result of a fight in which the boy was struck on the head with a hatchet. February 15, 1883 Three large bald eagles were killed in New Harmony last week. After being properly prepared, one will occupy a prominent place in the New Harmony Bank. March 22, 1883 Fashion experts tell us that honeysuckle yellow is the color of the season. Pelerines and shoulder capes are in greater demand than ever. September 20 1883 A band of Turks, with a collection of pet bears and monkeys, walked into Mount Vernon on Friday, however, they were quickly compelled

to “move on” by Officer Hogue. This dirtiest and hardest looking set of tramps that has ever struck this city was last seen headed in the direction of Carmi, Illinois. June 5, 1884 Attention: Gather all your knives and scissors—the sharpener is in town! June 12, 1884. Last week a man was arrested in Mount Vernon for practicing witchcraft. A woman accused the defendant for “hoo-dooing” her at a local establishment. Witnesses testified that he put a charm on her and wanted $4 to release her. As this lady was very superstitious, she had great fear of the “hoo-dooer” and the law had to step in. September 11, 1884 About 300 railroad cars, loaded with the juicy melons grown in this county’s sandy fields, have been shipped from Poseyville to all parts of the nation and the end of the season is not yet in sight. June 13, 1889 Deaths: While having her fortune told in a gypsy tent near the Wabash River at New Harmony, a young Mt. Vernon woman, Maggie Jones, 26, died suddenly of a cerebral stroke, according to New Harmony’s coroner. August 1, 1889 A tragedy at Sunday’s baseball game in Cynthiana took the life of Andrew Smith when he tried to enter the game field without paying an entrance fee. When challenged, he attacked the gate keeper, John F. Williams, with a knife. Williams, fearing for his life, struck Smith on the head with a piece of scantling. Injured from the blow, Smith died on Monday. Williams, a well-liked and quiet man, is free on bond.

October 16, 1889 A cow belonging to Adam Zimmerman became suddenly sick on Sunday and the veterinarian was called. To the amazement of all who saw this incident, Dr. Hartloff unwrapped a twine which had wound itself around the bovine’s tongue. As the doctor continued to pull on the string he dislodged a head of cabbage from the cow’s stomach. It was supposed that children had been playing with the cabbage on a string in the west end of this city and that later the cow grazed on the lot. The animal is expected to recover. December 19, 1889 Electric streetlights were turned on for the 1st time last night in the city of Mt. Vernon. The streets were crowded until a late hour with men, women, and children enjoying the modern invention. March 27, 1890 Deaths: A terrible mistake made by two New Harmony residents led to the death of Professor Richard Owen and the dangerous poisoning of Archilles H. Fretageot. Richard Owen, 80, died March 24, at his home, only hours after ingesting what he and his friend thought to be mineral water. In reality the drink turned out to be a preservative fluid, intended for an undertaking establishment. The bottle was labeled “Medicated Water,” and was sent to Mr. Fretageot’s store by mistake. Both men drank only a small quantity of the water, for they noticed a peculiar astringent taste, which was soon followed by extreme nausea.

— Compiled by Linda Neal Reising

Out In The Back Of Beyond/Editor’s Notebook SOME THINGS I THINK I THINK

think anyone who still denies that we’re facing climate change need only ask a Posey County farmer. If we don’t get a substantial amount of moisture in the next few months, we’ll be picking ticks off the catfish. I think I’m glad to start a new year with a clean sheet. I’m hoping it will bring peace and closure to all of us. I think the idiot adolescents who spray paint our road signs should be sprayed and feathered. The cost to taxpayers has to make it a crime with stiff penalties. I think the new additions to the Mount Vernon downtown riverfront are wonderful, but let’s not pat ourselves on the back until the entire downtown is revitalized. There are too many empty buildings that are falling into disrepair. It’s embarrassing.

I think the business folks in New Harmony need a new business model. With few exceptions, half of the businesses are closed on any given day. With a closed bridge and without a good marketing plan and some creative new businesses, the beautiful town will face even harder times ahead. I think I’m very glad the elections are over. One more nasty TV ad and I would have upchucked my cookies. I think truth has eluded all of the political parties. I think the best BBQ can be found in Mount Vernon and the best pizza in New Harmony. I think we need to go out of our way to buy local products.

I think local businesses need to go out of their way to be competitive. I think local gas stations need to heed the advice in that last sentence. I think the DNR needs to re-evaluate its practice of opening deer hunting in Harmonie State Park a week before gun season opens. It’s not fair to local deer hunters whose crops have fed the deer all year. I think that more than half of the deer harvested in Harmonie State Park still had their spots. Shame. I think Posey County is an incredibly beautiful place and we need to make sure it stays that way.

I think life is precious. J. Bruce Baumann Editor Posey Magazine poseymagazine@aol.com

“ L i f e c a n o n l y b e u n d e r s t o o d b a c k w a r d s ; b u t i t m u s t b e l i v e d f o r w a r d s .” — Søren Kierkegaard

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