September 2, 2014

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Herb: Giving kindness the way it should be done
Written by Frieda Marie Crump   

By Freida Marie Crump
Coonridge Digest
Greetings from the Ridge.
It takes very little these days for Herb get himself into a royal snit and last week he was snitting full-bore as we stood in the checkout lane of the grocery store. The lady ahead of him had her hands full, both of groceries and children, and a goodly-sized line had backed up behind her as she carefully laid out a row of food stamps.

Spring in Illinois

It’s Sunday morning and a beautiful sunrise is beginning over the pond. The first two ducks of the season are swimming around. I’m fixing breakfast for my dog and myself, so I don’t stop to get the binoculars to see what kind they are. Last week after the pair of Canada Geese, who come every year were here, a second pair came and took up a spot on the other side of the pond, across from  our regular pair. They got quite vocal with each other, probably discussing just whose pond it was. It’s fun to watch the seasonal wildlife come and go.

Last month for Feinstein challenge

By Susan Young
Virginia Happenings

Winter is having a hard time letting go and each time snow is called for in the forecast one thinks this has to be the last time!  Surely there will be more than two seasons in Illinois.
It is almost April and that is the last month for the Feinstein Challenge for the Cass County Food Pantry. The Cub Scouts were out picking up food last week and that along with all cash and food donations made in March and April will count toward the total submitted for the challenge. Make your donations before the end of April and be a part of the challenge to raise hunger awareness nationwide.

One last game with Mylo

By Roy Roberts
Trivia Too
He told her, “We have had a good life and a nice family; the two kids will take care of you, like you have been taking care of me. You know we aren’t having a quality life now, and if you don’t care I would like to give up the dialysis.”
I think most of my readers know that I had a brother Dale and a sister Jane, but didn’t ever know I had an older brother, Mylo. He would be 100 years old if he was living, and he is on my mind right now. Mother and Dad had Mylo, and thought that was their family. About eight years later, in quick succession they had Roy, Dale and Jane.

Charleston Riot: treason or self-defense?

By Leigh Morris
Our place in history
Other than the 1863 New York City Draft Riot, the Charleston Riot of March 28, 1864, resulted in the largest number of casualties of any such civil disturbance during the Civil War.
Of the 50 or so men apprehended in the wake of the Charleston Riot, all but 16 (one of these men died on April 27) were released. Lieutenant Colonel James Oakes, the acting assistant provost marshall for Illinois, was in charge of the prisoners who were being held at Camp Yates in Springfield.

A skill that technology does not help

Greetings from the Ridge.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Both of the teenage girls were star students, and one will likely be named valedictorian of her class this spring. I was sitting across the table from them at a church banquet and couldn’t help but overhear:
“So how to you do it?”

Charleston Riot: 9 killed, 12 wounded

A Democratic rally. Angry Copperheads, Judge Charles Constable holding court. Soldiers bent on teaching Copperheads a lesson. And enough whiskey for everyone. The ingredients for a perfect storm.
As the afternoon of March 28, 1864 wore on, a large crowd of civilians and soldiers milled about the Charleston courthouse square. Fueled by whiskey, the mood of the crowd had turned ominous. Democrat Congressman John R. Eden decided it would be unwise to deliver his planned remarks. Eden along with other conservative Democrat leaders urged the crowd to disperse and go home. Eden left town and Circuit Judge Charles Constable opened his court at 3 p.m.

Victim urges sexual assault victims to speak up

My name is Kynli Smith and I am writing you this letter because I am a victim of sexual assault. My abuser was just sentenced on March 10, 2014. I wanted to write this letter and share my story with you because the sad fact is I am not alone. There are so many other victims of sexual assault out there. I hope that by sharing my story with you, hopefully more victims of sexual assault will come forward like I have and break the suffocating silence. I’m going to try my best to explain my story to you, but normally the most important things are often the hardest things to say. So I am going to do my best.
I was molested by a man that I trusted and loved, a man who was supposed to go to my ball games, take me fishing and support me. Instead my abuser took my trust and innocence away when I was eight-years-old. The abuse stopped when I was around 12 when I moved away from Beardstown. I have carried the abuse, the burden and the shame with me over the years.
At first I did not realize that what was happening to me was wrong because he was supposed to love and take care of me. But, as I got older I soon realized that I am a victim of child molestation, and my abuser is a pedophile. Once I realized this I was too afraid and somewhat ashamed to tell anyone. I knew this would break my close-knit family apart, and I was also nervous about the abuse being seen as a personal weakness.

Resident calls for responsible voting

I received a flyer from Eva Lynn asking for my vote on March 18. I went to school with her daughter and know them both to be good people and Eva to have good credentials. And I believe she and her fellow Democrats do what’s best for our town and county.

End of winter . . . time to party!

Greetings from the Ridge.
I’m ready for a party. Oh, I know that living in this most blessed of nations it’s hard to say that we deserve anything, but dog-gone it, after living through a winter like we’ve just endured I think we’ve earned the right to treat ourselves to a shindig. Print up the t-shirts proclaiming, “I survived the winter of 2014!” Break out the champagne or if you’re Methodist, crack open a bottle of grape juice.
Maybe we could hold a Holi, a celebration in Northern India where the villagers douse each other with gaily colored powder and in some cases throw buckets of dyed water on each other. Before you pooh-pooh these weird native traditions, think back to the last Super Bowl celebration. I’d suggest that we commemorate the end of this God-awful winter by Holi-ing our own neighborhoods. Walk into your local coffee shop or church service and toss of bag of bright yellow cornmeal into the air and shout, “Winter’s over! We beat the bugger!” In some villages the Holi is ended by the women beating their tie-dyed husbands with bamboo sticks. I’ll have a small quantity on my front porch if the urge hits you.