Happy birthday? Yes! Happy birthday

Today is that "special" day of the year; the day when I acknowledge I am a year older. Or, as someone has put it, I've made another trip around the sun. What do we mean when we say, "Happy Birtdhay!" Probably that we wish the recipient all good things and that we are glad they are here. What do we hear when people say, "Happy birthday"? This is not a downer post. Actually, quite the opposite. I am glad I turn 71 today. I am especially glad when people say, "I would guess you are in your 50s!" There are some advantages to being older and some of those advantages are tied to both happy and sad events in my life. I can remember back to when I was three years old and Dad and my uncle took me for a ride to look at "Christmas lights" on Third Street in my hometown, a neighborhood renowned for the lights and moving displays at Christmas. When we got home, Santa had come and gone that Christmas Eve and he left me a pedal tractor. Why I got a tractor, I can't remember. It was an Oliver 88 made in nearby South Bend and while other kids in our neighbrohood rode their tricycles and pedal race cars, I rode my tractor and planted pretend beans and corn and took the tractor to be repaired and the oil changed. While few city kids had tractors, I remember everyone wanted to ride mine. To remember a Christmas 68 years ago is a special gift. I remember vividly the 4th of July when I proposed to Linda and where. I remember thd ay of our wedding and the days when both of our kids were born. I remember great details of those days. Not bad for 40-plus years ago! My memories are some of my greatest treasures. There are bittersweet memories too, as you age. I remember both my grandfathers and how they smelled. That may sound strange if you are younger but odor is a great inducement to memory. I cannot smell the musty smell of damp wood without thinking of Grandpa Zellers' hosue in Winamac. I remember the smell of his chewing tobacco when he kissed my face. I remember the smell of Grandpa Phillips, too and I remember the many times dad and I would go to visit him and I would sit and listen while Dad and Grandpa talked about current events and so many things. We sat at the picnic table Grandpa built on a metal frame he bought. Later, I had that table until it was destroyed when a tree splingtered it during a storm. I also remember going to Grandpa Zellers' funeral visitation and repeatedly walking around and then back to the casket to see if he was really dead. I remember being asked to read scripture during Grandpa Phillips' funeral. That church was begun in Grandpa and Grandma's house on Oak Street. Grandpa Zellers had signed for the church furniture in the church he and Grandma Zellers attended. I don't remember either grandmother very well. Grandma Zellers died years before I was born and I was three when Grandma Phillips died. All I remember about Grandma Phillips was a time when a booger got wrapped up in my chewing gum and she cleaned up my nose and mouth. Then I recall the year I left the church ministry and went to work for a radio station when we moved in with Linda's parents. Dangerous Dan Jensen taught me how to run the control board. I was going to be a part time announcer. He introduced me -- "What name do you want to go by on the radio?" he asked. My first name was Terry but I always liked Frank, the middle name I shared with both grandfathers. So, "Frank Phillips" was born and the name stuck from 1994 to this day. I got an email from Dan this week. He has Stage 3 Colon Cancer. "Do you realize you and I were younger than both my kids when you and I met?" I asked him. I pray Dan makes it. I also remeinded him my wife had four surgeries for breast cancer 15 years ago and this week we got a thumbs up from her surgeon when we went in for her annual checkup. I remember when we moved to Elkhart. "You ahve met my family and now I will get to know your family," she said in the car as we followed the truck hauling our furniture. In the next few years, I helped do the service when my cousin, Kirby, got married and died a year later. I attended my aunt's funeral and her immediate family insisted I sit with them during the service. Then, in July, I was cleaning up the aftermath of a terrible wind storm that struck our small town when my cousin's daughter called to tell me her dad had died unexpectedly from a heart attck that morning. I have lots of happy memories with that family. They were the closest thing to brothers and sisters I had. I think it means a lot to me, also, as I age that I'm not as insecure as I was at a younger age. I trust my own thoughts and judgments more. I would definitely marry Linda all over again but there are a lot of other choices I would have changed. When people say, "I wouldn't do a thing differently in my life," I believe they are either lying or have not learned a thing. Getting older is a good thing -- if your faith is in Jesus Christ and you beleive you have an eternal home with a new body. Getting older isn't good or bad. But I consider it a blessing.

Diego Morales, Sec’y of State candidate, speaks on voting reform

New batch of streets to be paved with state grant money

By Frank Phillips Dialogue Media A new batch of Brazil city streets are scheduled to be resurfaced thanks to a grant from the Indiana Department of Transportation. The grant was formally accepted by the Brazil, Indiana, Board of Public Works and Safety on Wednesday. The grant totals $324,936.97 and will be used to pave the following streets: *Washington Street from Jackson Street to U.S. 40 *Bonnie Geyne Miller Drive from Nabuca Drive to King Street *State Street from Depot Street to Meridian Street *Colfax Strteet from State Street to Logan Street *Luther Street from Jackson Street to U.S. 40 *Harrison Street from U.S. 40 to Jackson Street *White Tail Court from Deer Creek Drive to White Tail Court/dead end *Deer Park Drive from White Tail Court to Central Avenue *Beaver Dam Court from Central Avenue to Dead End *Park Place from Pinckley to Dead End *Luther Street from Jackson Street to Knight Street *Myers Street from Hoosier Street to Leavitt Street *Myers Street from Leavitt Street to Chicago Street The city's match to get the grant will be $108,312.32. Another grant from the Indiana Office of Community and Rural Affairs will give the city about $250,000 of which $144,000 will fund food and personal hygiene items this summer in giveaways at First Christian Church. The rest of the money will go to the non-profit CARS organization for various expenses. The board signed a contract for design services to build a 900 square-foot building at the city's wastewater treatment plant to house two tanks containing "somewhat noxious chemicals," said Mayor Brian Wyndham. The building is mandated by the State of Indiana Department of Emergency Management to protect rivers and creeks, said city attorney Traci Orman. The City learned a few years ago this was going to be a state mandate, the mayor said. Construction is to begin by April 1, 2022. Finally, new curb cuts are coming downtown. JOINK received permission to make curb cuts on U.S. 40 by Riddell National Bank's main branch and by the Alabama Bar and Grill for broadband internet. Duke Energy received permission to make a curb cut on Church Street. The next meeting of the Brazil Board of Public Works will be at 10 a.m., May 26th at City Hall.

Christmas wonder at Forest Park

Visitors to Forest Park are greeted at the main entrance, in front of the fountain. The park is decorated for the holidays and will be a stopping off spot during Christmas festivities. Reminder: The Christmas in the Park Parade set for Friday night has been canceled due to COVID-19. If your organization has special plans for Christmas, we can publish them here. Email: frankphillips@gmail.com or call (765)280-1705. Copyright Frank Phillips, 2020. Support this blog through Patreon.com.

Senate candidate says he can provide effective leadership

Rep. Todd Young is seeking the U.S. Senate seat being vacated by Dan Coats at the end of his term. Young, who represents Indiana's 9th Congressional District, was interviewed by Frank Phillips of The Brazil Times.

Clay County kicks off Indiana's bicentennial year

Clay County raised Indiana's bicentennial flag on Friday at noon.

The popcorn king was a grandpa, too

Many of us remember the TV commercials starring Orville Redenbacher. He was always seen in his striped shirt and bowtie. 
“Hi, I’m Orville Redebacher from Valparaiso, Indiana,” he would say. 
That line rankled some folks who knew he was born in Brazil, Indiana, a town that had a Popcorn Festival dedicated to his memory each fall. 
For the past several months I have been corresponding with one of his grandsons, Kevin R. Fish, an author who contributed to “Indiana’s 200,” to be published by the Indiana Historical Society in November. 
In one of our exchanges, Kevin wrote the following and gave me permission to make liberal use of it in this column:
There are some facts that reveal Redenbacher’s personal character.  He always remained the same kind of person even though he became a public figure.  Fame never went to “his head.”  For example, beginning in high school in the 1920’s, he always wore a bow tie, though this piece of clothing had been traditional since the late nineteenth century, but was not very popular by the time of his death in 1995.  At his house in Valparaiso, Indiana, both he and Grandma Corinne accommodated their grandchildren.  There was a plastic log cabin in the basement, in which there was room for some of the children to sit.  There was also a billiard table in the basement.  On one occasion, he and I played a game of billiards, but he did not beat me right away, waiting until only the eight ball was left, then he won by sending it into one of the table’s pockets.  
One other matter about Grandpa involves our family reunions.  Our first reunion was in 1991 in  Scottsdale, Arizona, near where Cousin Lori lived.  The second one was in 1993 in Santa Cruz, California, near my brother Gary’s house in nearby Scotts Valley.  After staying in Santa Cruz, we went to Gary’s house.  The last reunion was at Disney World in Orlando, Florida.  It was at this last reunion that there were many board and domino games, and Grandpa played one in which he was an expert.  The whole purpose of these reunions was to demonstrate Grandpa’s lifelong belief in a family staying together.
I told Kevin that his memories of Orville struck a chord with me because of my own grandfathers.
I never knew my Grandmother Zellers and Grandma Phillips passed away when I was 3.
Grandpa Zellers stayed with us through the winter on several years and my Grandpa Phillips was not an outgoing man. I don’t remember him every playing with my cousins or myself, though we knew he loved us very much.
Grandpa Zellers loved playing checkers with me. On one occasion, Mom left me in his care while she went grocery shopping. When she got home, she laid a 3 Musketeers bar on the table in front of me.
The only regret I have of those years was the time when I was 11 and Grandpa wanted me to play a game of checkers. I turned him down, thinking I was too busy.
When he was past 80, he played Whiffle ball with me. He was never too busy or too tired.
Grandpa Phillips retired from the railroad when I was, perhaps, in my teenage years. He had Dad, my cousin, Rick, and me ride in the cab with him on his last run from Chicago. At the end of his trip, a photographer was waiting to take his photo in front of the train engine.
For many years after he said he wished he had Rick and I in the photo with him.  
I often think of those things when I talk to my grandchildren on the phone or when I can be with them.
It was especially poignant to me when I was visiting with the kids in Missouri and John wanted “ to do something”  but didn’t know what.
So, we built a fort out of couch cushions and whatever we could find.
For months after, whenever we were together, John said, “Grandpa, let’s build a port.” I guess, maybe, he confused a fort to guard against Indians with a place where ships dock. (Yes, I know the “fort” scenario is politically incorrect, but we had fun.)
On another occasion, all the grandkids were in the recliner with me and we would rock up and down, like we were in a boat on the ocean. When one got down, I told them to hurry back into the boat because “Bruce” the shark would eat them.
A few months later, Rose and I were reading a Golden Book about “Nemo,” the little clown fish in the Disney movie. The shark in that book had a different name but Rose insisted it was “Bruce.”
Guess Disney will have to revise that book.
Thanks, for sharing, Kevin, on behalf of all of us grandparents.    

• • •

I have a new book out! It is titled, "Being Frank About Family and Friends," and is available on Kindle and Kindle apps. amazon.com/author/frankphillips. 

Being Frank about discipline

Frank’s column for week of March 29, 2015 — 1908 scholarship “Pointed Suggestions"

I am a child of the '60s, a decade from which we are still reeling, and if we aren't careful, historians will one day look back and remember it as a key time in the decline and fall of the American Empire. 

I was a teenager during the '60s. That meant there were lots of questions, few answers and even more important decisions to make. 

College was one of those decisions. 

Neither one of my parents had formal education beyond high school. My grandfather worked on the railroad from a very young age. He put Uncle Doc and Aunt Jessie through college but did not go to college himself. 

Uncle Doc became a dentist (hence the nickname, "Doc") and Aunt Jessie became a school teacher who taught English in the Gary school district while Doc had his practice in the same area.

So, when I was growing up, Doc and Jessie were two of my college role models. So were my cousins, Rick and Lou Ann. They were 6 and 12 years older than me and both attended Michigan State University long before I had to make any decisions about higher education. 

During the 1960s, the philoosophy that led to lack of discipline for children became prevalent. It’s not too surprising that also in the ‘60s campus demonstrations became all too common. 

Just how many “students” were involved in the rioting may never be known; I'm sure it was a minority, but the point is, the lack of discipline at home manifested itself in the riots. 

The same children who were not corrected for throwing their cereal on the floor as infants expected they would not be disciplined for taking over the university administration building as young adults. 

None of this is new but it does set the scene to show how much things changed over the decades leading up to the '60s. 

In 1908, Mary I. Hendricksen's mother, Grace Dickson, received a scholarship to attend six months of training at Indiana Business College.

The scholarship carried with it some “pointed suggestions" for behavior as follows:

Let others alone. 

Attend strictly to business at all hours.

Heavy walking, running and jumping in the halls, slamming of doors, cutting, marking or defacing wood work or walls, loitering before of after school hours around or in the vicinity of the building, and use of tobacco in and about school positively forbidden. For any violation of same students are subject expulsion. 

Unless business or special work calls you to the office, your place is in your department, and this you can only leave by permission from your teacher. 

We cannot graduate and recommend as fully qualified amanuenses, any whose shorthand speed is less than 100 words, or typewriting speed less than 45 words per minute, or who fail to pass a rigid examination in orthography or write a good hand. 

Students who remain out of college without a permit from the teacher, will not be allowed to make up for lost time. 

A strict record of the attendance f all pupils is kept. No allowances are made for holidays or absences, except in case of serious illness, or upon special permit. In no instance will any payment of tuition be refunded. 

The obligation given by purchaser of this scholarship promises punctual attendance, orderly deportment and cheerful compliance with college rules. 

Under no consideration will students be allowed to use the telephone during school ours. Other hours at our option. 

Remember, this institution does not obligate itself to furnish a position unless the pupil completes our full commercial course. 

I offer this to point out how different “acceptable" behavior is today than 100 years ago. 

Today, high school students call their teachers by their first names and know who to go to, to buy illegal drugs. In 1908 "heavy walking, running and jumping in the halls" was cause for the disciploine of college students. 

As I say, unless we are careful, we may be living the decline and fall of the American Empire. 

Frank Phillips is a reporter for The Brazil Times. 

Being Frank on the 50th anniversary of the Palm Sunday tornadoes

This is the 50th anniversary of the dreadful Palm Sunday tornadoes.  Ten tornadoes ripped through Indiana in the worst natural disaster I had seen in my short life in 1965.

We often complain about what the government does poorly or just wrong, but weather forecasting has improved dramatically in the last 50 years thanks to satellites and cooperation between the National Weather Service and private industry, such as The Weather Channel and Accuweather. I would imagine a much larger database of weather patterns collected over the years has contributed to the improvement. Also, events such as the Palm Sunday tornadoes have made us more aware of the danger preceded by dark, swirling clouds. 

People are still injured and tornadoes cost millions of dollars in damage every year but we do a much better job of warning people than in 1965 when the Palm Sunday storms devastated too much of the Hoosier state. 

We were at my aunt and uncle’s house in North Liberty when two of the storms hit far northern Indiana. “Liberty” the locals call it. The name was counter point to the helplessness we all felt when we learned of the destruction.  

North Liberty is west of South Bend in St. Joseph County. 

Miles to the east in Elkhart County the town of Dunlap was about to be destroyed by twin tornadoes. 

My cousins and I were outside when the tornado warnings came on TV.  

Dad and my uncle came outdoors and watched the clouds swirl overhead.  I remember them pointing to the clouds and discussing the unusual patterns they made in the sky. Meanwhile, emergency vehicle sirens could be heard blaring up and down the state highway.  

“We’d better go home,” Mom said. 

That made no sense, because it meant we would be in a car when high winds could pummel us with who-knows-what kind of debris. 

We lived about an hour northeast of Liberty. We knew all the shortcuts in between.  

On that Palm Sunday, National Guard units were parked everywhere. Our shortcut roads were blocked and it took much longer to get home that night.  

At home, there was nothing on TV that Sunday night except local news about the destruction everywhere. 

In the week ahead, President Lyndon Baines Johnson flew into Indianapolis and visited much of the Hoosier state in a helicopter. 

I was never a big fan of Johnson but when he flew into South Bend to survey the damage,our school classes watched on the South Bend TV stations and my impression was he genuinely cared about the people who lost so much. 

There were many rumors flying around about the tornado damage. 

My cousin, who was much older than me, drove a heating oil truck. Junior said people talked about fish being picked up from a lake south of Liberty and being flung across roads and into fields. 

My parents had bought an 8 mm movie camera a few months earlier.  Dad wanted a good 35 mom camera but Mom decided on the movie camera.  Funny how that worked.  

So the next weekend while dad worked, mom and I got into our huge 1958 Mercury wagon and drove to Elkhart County where the damage was the worst in our area. 

I pointed the camera out the window and documented piles of debris while mom drove by.  We weren’t alone. There were many other rubber-neckers doing the same thing.

I don’t know why we are attracted to the suffering of others but we are. 

Only some kinds of suffering.  If there is a traffic accident we want to see it.  But put someone in a nursing home and try to attract volunteers to visit the sick and lonely and few people are interested. 

In 1965 weather warnings largely consisted of a slide interrupting the local TV programming and maybe a blaring tone on the speaker to get your attention, warning that a tornado just passed over your house. 

Today we have weather channels on TV and Internet 24-7. Satellites fly overhead and show forecasters all kinds of weather information. Weather sirens are located in many neighborhoods. 

It’s not uncommon to see maps of the United States with wide swatches of orange and red ovals stretching across several states that show us the areas most likely to be hit by storms many hours ahead of the event. As I write this, such a weather watch graphic is on a map over Missouri where my daughter’s family lives. 

Yes weather forecasting is much better today.  And we are safer than we were 50 years ago. 

Frank Phillips is a reporter for The Brazil Times. His e-mail address is frank.phillips@gmail.com.

Being Frank, exclusively for Montgomery County, Indiana

Dear Montgomery County, 

It's Saturday morning and a little past 5 o'clock. It's also Valentine's Day and that means Linda and I will visit Red Lobster later today. 

This is going to be about a few things. I am too satisfied to get on my usual high horse and develop one topic for several hundred words. This will probably sound more like one of Hawkeye Pierce's letters to his dad than a newspaper column. 

+ + +

I woke up thinking about Gov. Mike Pence this morning. That may sound weird to you but to an old newspaper guy it's not out of the ordinary. I often awake thinking about newsmakers. 

Governor Pence has been in Montgomery County news a lot lately thanks to ISTEP+ and his visit to Nucor. 

He can't seem to catch a break. The principal of Mollie B. Hoover Elementary school in Crawfordsville was interviewed on TV and she wasn't a bit shy about expressing teachers' frustration with ISTEP+. 

Other folks in these parts are upset with his plan to cut funding to the Indiana State Library for genealogical research. 

A few years ago Pence visited a Crawfordsville factory and his keys were locked in his car by the state trooper who was driving him around that day. I know because the governor sent a thank you to the local towing operation that broke into his car for him. Thankfully for the governor it wasn't one of winter days.

The tow truck operator put the thank you note from the governor on his front counter so all his customers could see the note bearing the seal of the State of Indiana. 

Governor, when -- not if -- you decide to test the waters for a run for President, you might think twice about stopping in this part of Indiana. Over the next several months you might become known as Indiana's version of "W."

+ + +

Thanks to Twitter and Facebook I have been able to keep up with the family doings of many of my friends. 

My editor asked me for an idea for a Valentine's Day story a few days ago. We asked our combined Facebook friends to tell us about the best Valentine's Day gift they have ever given or received. 

Surprisingly, many of the comments had to do with family and not romance per se. Two people said their children, born on Feb. 14, were their greatest gifts. One man said hand made cards and a bag of Laffy Taffy from his kids were his greatest gifts. 

I have never considered Valentine's Day to be a family event but I guess it is. 

+ + +

I am getting to write more now than I have ever written in life. In the past, those pesky minor issues likes getting out the next edition of the paper or getting ready for the next newscast took a lot of time away from just thinking and writing. 

Not that I would be opposed to being an editor again. That would mean more money and I'm not enough of a hypocrite to say more money wouldn't be nice. Always. 

But my morning routine includes taking Linda to work, driving a few blocks to my office, greeting The Boss (she reminds me of Gail Hamilton in many respects) and settling down to my desktop computer. 

I then go through e-mail and look through the past 24 hours on my Twitter and Facebook accounts and then the paper's Facebook account. Many times I will look through the statistics of our paper's website, always looking for something to write about. 

Our company's goal is for every reporter to average two stories a day. I'm between two and three stories a day and I love it. 

Let me tell you where some of those stories have led. 

+ + +

An old friend, a genealogist, came into the office the other day looking for the editor. Pete was out so I met the man. He wanted to promote a meeting of the Sons of the American Revolution of West Central Indiana. 

He left the information in my trusted hands and then our conversation turned to genealogy and I learned about his frustration with the governor's plan to defund the Genealogy Department of the state library. 

Later, he sent me a few e-mails he had received that were being distributed by his friends and fellow genealogists opposing the governor's plan. Social media is wonderful!

So, I went online to see what our wire service had written, copied their story and proceeded to call our local library and a nearby library devoted to genealogical research. The wire story had covered the governor's view pretty well so I wanted informed local comments on the other side of the issue. 

One thing led to another and I was invited to speak at a meeting of the local genealogical society this week. 

I tried to suggest other people but the lady to whom I spoke insisted they wanted me. 

I think I will talk on how media has changed since I first became involved -- some 40 years ago. Can it be that long? 

+ + +

I used to sit next to a reporter who came into the building cussing every morning. 

"You know what I hate about this job?" he said one morning. "Every day it's something different. I just want a job where I go in and do the same thing in the same way day after day." 

Something new and writing news stories pretty much go hand in hand!

In a few years, he was working for a big box store and happy as can be. 

One morning last week I was surprised to find on my desk a plastic mailing bag that contained a book and a letter. 

The letter was from a publicist and the book was "Chicken Soup for the Soul: Hope & Miracles." 

The letter said a local woman had contributed one of the chapters in the book.

The letter contained her e-mail address.

Not surprisingly in this day of the declining use of home phones, I couldn't find a phone number for her but I dropped her a note on e-mail. We ended up doing an interview by e-mail and I think I have a new friend. 

Diane Stark and her husband live nearby. They have five kids and she is a freelance writer. As it turns out, she has written for several editions of "Chicken Soup for the Soul" as well as a number of other religious publications. 

Her busy life just made it easier for us to do the interview by e-mail than in person which was fine for my purposes. Did I mention I love social media?

After the interview, we wrote again, talking about freelance writing. 

She was impressed I had been freelancing for more than 40 years, much longer than she has been alive, I am sure.

I don't think writing for publication for 40 years is impressive, any more than living to be more than 60 years old, which reminds me of the last person I tried to interview and I will wrap this up by telling you about Nettie. 

+ + +

Nettie is 100 years old this week. 

You know how Willard Scott is always showing those old folks whose faces are superimposed on a jar of jelly? They are always smiling and happy to bless us with their presence after 100 years on this earth. 

The nursing home had a birthday party for Nettie and Nettie was having nothing to do with it. 

That's what she told me, when we met and the expression on her face when I took her picture says it all. 

Hey, I get grumpy sometimes now. If I live to be 100 I expect every day won't be great then, either. 

Poor lady. But her face says it all: "I didn't want to have this **** party. Get the **** out of my face with your banners and cakes and flash cameras!" 

"That's a terrible picture," Editor Pete said, laughing, when he pulled it up on his editor's computer screen. 

I told him Nettie's story and in some ways it is down right funny. 

"I don't want a party and I want all you people to get out of here and leave me alone!"

+ + +

Last night I learned how to do something. 

Pete asked me to come back in and help check pages before the pages were sent to the printer for today's edition. 

Between pages I tried one more time to learn how to do something that had eluded me for over a decade. I have struggled to understand how to combine individual photos with feathered edges into a new picture in Photoshop. 

Yesterday I mastered the technique. I learned how to use layers to join the pictures into a Valentine's Day montage I was trying to create. 

It seems simple now, but I guess brain surgery is simple, too, after you get the hang of it. 

+ + +

So, unlike the character of Hawkeye Pierce, no one is shooting at me. People treat me very well (guess it's that senior citizen thing.) I will not be performing meatball surgery after I email this letter. And, I am very happy with life in general 

I love this job!

Podcast updates

I posted two new episodes to my podcast this weekend.

The first was a conversation with John Grimes who celebrated 70 years of marriage to his wife, Lil, on Oct. 25. Lil has Alzheimer's and lives in a Crawfordsville nursing home but she enjoys listening to John play his harmonica for her. On this podcast he plays a sample for us.

The second episode is abut 20 minutes of Harvey Keller's 1999 Halloween morning show on WCVL-WIMC, Crawfordsville, Ind.

I hope you will enjoy both episodes.

My novel, "Living In Victory" has been published and is available on www.lulu.com. By the first of the year I hope it will be available on www.amazon.com. You can read a free sample of the story, purchase a paperback copy or purchase a download of the book in Adobe PDF format at www.lulu.com.

To hear my podcast, go to: http://frankphillips.mypodcast.com or subscribe free on iTunes. It is "Being Frank: Letters from Indiana."