This past weekend in central and east-central Indiana has been rainy with if not exactly a chill in the air, the kind of air where a sweatshirt feels good. I'll come around to fall, as I always do. But for now, I want to relish the end of summer.

Since schools open in early August now, the pool has been closed for weeks, the season's trip to Cordry Lake a memory, and the 4-H and Mooreland fairs in the books for 2018. Tonight, Bible Study Fellowship resumes in Middletown, a sure sign that a new season is approaching.

I don't want to close out summer without a thank you to folks I don't know and don't even see, but they provide so much: those flowers and vegetables placed at the edge of roads throughout our state. They leave glass jars and even cash boxes encouraging passersby to use the honor system of paying for the produce.

There's something humbly refreshing about this kind of random trust. And apparently it works because these stands are there daily for folks to pick up luscious red tomatoes to slice and top off our burgers and flowers to arrange in Ball jars for the center of our kitchen tables.

One site has a scales and a cash box. One day I didn't have the right change but decided to leave a tip. The extra coin wasn't for the merch -- although it could have been -- rather, it was a tip for the stand owner's faith in humanity.

At a flower stand though, I picked up two beautiful $5 bunches. I only had a twenty so I delved into the glass jar for a ten and went happily on my way.

In a few weeks I'll see some pumpkins along the road and stop and pick up a few. I'll dig out my best fall wreath for the front door and fill my wooden bowl with gourds. Brian has already mentioned Halloween candy.

But for now, at least until the calendar tells me I'm out of season, I'll enjoy the last of summer's in-season goodness, its bounty, its harvest. Summer remains for a few more days. I'm not rushing it away.

The following column ran today in The Courier-Times.

by Donna Cronk

Here’s what I know: When working with the public, you will likely hear complaints more often than you do compliments.

Here’s what I know as a member of that same public: I am no different. I will speak up when the product I ordered is inferior and needs to go back, or tell my husband or friend when there’s something that bugs me about mankind – or about the state of Indiana roads.

Recently I waited in line to check out groceries. The line was long but I had used this cashier before and knew she was worth the wait. She’s a talker, yes, but words don’t slow her in the least. Once I overheard her say that she has customers who time their shopping with her working schedule so they can use her line. She is proud of this; proud of doing her work well.

One day I overheard her talking about a brother who had been promoted as a heating-and-cooling professional. It was a hot day, and that’s how the topic came up. She told the customer ahead of me that he was good at what he did, and as a result, in high demand. He had an offer to change jobs but his employer asked him what it would take to keep him. He landed a raise and a promotion.

When it was my turn to check out, I watched this woman work. She not only rang up my items quickly, but skillfully loaded them into my cloth bags, making sure they were not too heavy, yet full. Her work was equal parts experience, talent and caring about doing her job right. I complimented her on her expertise.

“I want to be the best,” she said of her work. “I look at it as a puzzle.”

The dried-goods boxes were arranged almost as art. The colds placed together, the canned goods dispersed just right, the breads fluffy, the eggs unbroken.

I wanted to get home and put everything away, but first, a detour to the service desk. I wanted to compliment this clerk on her service in an official way, and let her employer know how much I appreciated her bright outlook, work ethic, speed and skill.

The clerk there was happy to give me a form to fill out and I was happy to complete it. From there, I have no idea what happened, but something good, I hope. Maybe it was a supervisor’s compliment, or a kind word from the store manager letting the line clerk know she had been caught in the act of doing something well.

I would like to meet the mama of my cashier and her brother. I’d say she did a good deal right in raising them.

Several years ago I had an above-and-beyond experience at the bank drive-thru window. I had turned off the engine and when I went to start my van, nothing happened. The female teller told me to hold on, that she had jumper cables in her vehicle. Out she came, pulling her truck around to my van – and jumped it! Soon I was on my way, destined for a new battery.

I called the bank’s main office to report this amazing teller’s work in saving the day, not to mention saving me a service or even towing bill.

Sometime later another bank employee told me that because of my call, the teller I reported was given special recognition and a meal out for her effort. That made me happy.

Today I challenge you to catch someone doing something right. And report them for it!

We’re each a member of the public. So it’s on us to help make our corner of the world a better place to live, work and be a human being. And wouldn’t it be nice to make someone’s day in the process?

Donna Cronk is Neighbors Editor at The Courier-Times. She also edits the quarterly her magazine for women.

Several months ago I was contacted by the Area VII Extension Homemakers Retreat Committee to see if I would be their opening-morning speaker as well as sit in on a break-out afternoon session, a review of my first novel, Sweetland of Liberty Bed & Breakfast.

The retreat was earlier this week at Lake Placid retreat center near Hartford City.  It took less than an hour to make my way to the grounds, complete with pretty scenery like this.

I found a table set up in the main auditorium for me to decorate and stock with books. On a whim, I grabbed the two teapots I had at home that were filled with flowers I bought at a local roadside stand. The flowers had already seen in two occasions by then: Sam's birthday dinner a week ago, and my church life-group's meeting Sunday night.

In some ways, the retreat was like old-home week. I hadn't been there long when here came two from my home county of Union: Sally Redinger and Marla Neukum. Sally is married to Art, who was my 4-H Extension director 41 years ago! Marla is a retired Union County Elementary School teacher.

Several Henry County Extension Homemakers were there, too, including state officer Teresa Bell who was the one who suggested my name for the program! Thank you, Teresa. Among other counties represented were my home county of Madison.

The retreat theme was RELIVE YOUR TEENS. During an entertaining video featuring people, music, trends and fashions from several decades, some "models" put on a style show of fashions from eras past.

It was fun to give the speech, written for this occasion, called BACK TO THE FUTURE: IT'S NEVER TOO LATE, then enjoy visiting over lunch with several women. I was delighted to meet and chat with Rush County Extension Director Gracie Marlatt. Then it was time for the book review break-out session where 13 gathered to discuss Sweetland. It's always interesting to hear questions and observations readers have.

I'm grateful for every opportunity as the journey continues.

By DONNA CRONK - dcronk@thecouriertimes.com

South African native Rod Smith became First Presbyterian Church in New Castle’s new pastor on July 17. A U.S. citizen, he was ordained decades ago in South Africa. His official status with the Presbyterian Church is Commissioned Ruling Elder (CRE). He is believed to be the 38th pastor in the church’s history, dating to 1845.

He is delighted to be here.

“The people are hard working, committed, faithful,” Smith said. “They love their city. They love their church. They’re generous, kind, open.”

Smith resides with his two sons, Thulani, 20, and Nate, 16, in Indianapolis. He hopes to relocate to New Castle.
He is excited about being back in active ministry. His journey to this job dates back a couple decades. It also involves meeting the Danny Danielson family. The Danielsons were avid Henry County community supporters and philanthropists.
Smith’s roots

Originally from Durban, South Africa, several generations of Smith’s family had roots there. While serving a church in South Africa, he invited Christians from around the world to visit. A team from Tabernacle Presbyterian Church in Indianapolis visited and on that team were Duane and Susie (Danielson) Anderson, the daughter of the late Danny and Patty Danielson.

“We had a wonderful experience together,” Smith said. After that meeting, he was asked by a church search committee to move to Indy and be part of the church’s pastoral staff. He was there for eight years starting in 1990.
An avid traveler, Smith said, “I always knew I’d live in another country but I didn’t know what that country would be. When the invitation came to move to the states I just took it because it fit with what I knew.”
From his service with the Indianapolis church, he left to establish with friends a faith-based counseling service, Open Hand, for the juvenile courts system and for the state office of Family and Children.
Along the way he adopted two sons, Thulani, 20, now a junior at Butler University and Nate, 16, a sophomore at North Central High School.
When the boys became school-aged, he went to work as an English teacher and later dean for St. Richard’s School where the boys attended.
New Castle connection

Twenty years ago he spoke at a New Castle Presbyterian Church’s family retreat where he met Dan and Becky Riley of Greenfield, members of the New Castle church. He recently reconnected with them and learned that Dan was filling in at churches in Lewisville and Knightstown that were in between pastors.
Smith said of the work, “I want to do that.”
He had been aching to preach.
“I even prepared a Christmas sermon in case someone got ill,” Smith recalled of last year.
He was asked in fill in on Jan. 28 in southern Henry County.
“I felt like a jockey who had found his horse after many years,” Smith recalled.
After being asked back to preach again, he was told that New Castle Presbyterian was still looking for a pastor. He was quite interested but didn’t know if it would work out since he is not Presbyterian. But it did, and the rest is history.

“Here I am and I’m having fun,” Smith said, adding, “I’m enjoying learning New Castle, enjoying learning what the culture is all about.”
New Castle Presbyterian Church elder, John Lansinger, has been a member there for 43 years. He said of Smith, “He is a breath of fresh air.”
Lansinger lauds the pastor for his “tremendous amount of energy, care for people,” and the time he has spent meeting with members and shut ins. He spoke of Smith’s “great sense of humor,” and how he has new ideas and jumps right in to implement them, such as contributing to some community services and a new Wednesday-morning Bible study.
Additional interests

Smith also teaches internationally and interdenominationally with a Christian organization, Youth With A Mission (YWAM) which he has done for 30 years. The idea is to train young people to serve around the world. He has taken his sons on countless trips throughout the world.
He has also maintained a daily South African newspaper column for 17 years called “You and Me.” It’s the longest-running  newspaper column by one writer in the country,” he said.

Not only is Smith close to his sons, but he speaks with his own siblings daily. His family was close growing up. Along with photos of his boys in his office, there’s one of Smith’s father taken during his service in the British Navy during World War II. The sailor’s wartime boat sank and he survived by swimming in the ocean for days. He swam in oil to keep the sharks away but suffered for months with blood poisoning as a result. He went on to live, however, until 1994.

“He was a paragon of generosity and courage,” the son said of his father. He would like to add a photo of his mother from that period but cannot find it.
Special invite

The church has Sunday school weekly at 9:15 a.m., followed by services at 10:30 a.m. This Sunday, Aug. 26, however, is a special Sunday when the church will celebrate public education and educators. The pastor issues a special invite to everyone who has served as a public educator, administrator or to people who love or loved educators. They will be honored during the worship service.
Smith has sent invitations to a dozen or more schools and to New Castle Mayor Greg York. York has accepted the invitation to Sunday’s services. First Presbyterian Church is at 1202 Church St., New Castle.

The pastor said that only a fool would not want schools to be safe, but he also sees a danger in making things so safe that freedom of thought and creativity would be stifled.
“I have great faith in this particular community at this particular time at this particular location,” Smith said.

It happens every August, at the same time the Indiana State Fair is under way, and long after all the county 4-H fairs have wrapped up. It's not 4-H based and there's no corporate sponsor, unless you count the corporate efforts of volunteers on the fair board who run the big show in a seamless manner. These are farmers and retirees, working folks and more than anything, their qualifications are hard work and a love for Mooreland, Indiana and its annual fair.

The Mooreland Free Fair, to be exact, although I often refer to it fondly as The Mooreland World's Fair.

When you enter the fairgrounds on the southern edge of this small northeastern-Henry County town during this festival, you might think you've arrived inside a time capsule and the year is 1952. Oddly, I could get no phone service on my cell from the grounds. Maybe it is 1952 and cellphones have not been invented.

Fairgoers can enter their pumpkins, eggs and other agricultural products. Or, they can enter their kids or grandkids in kiddie pedal pulls or baby contests. You can enjoy the finest bowl of ham and beans with a side of cornbread this side of heaven, prepared by the local Friends Church volunteers. There's a carnival, a building filled with local and state politicians and business people and moms with side jobs selling various goods. There are the Cornfield Cloggers to watch, or the magician, parade or talent shows.

There are queen and princess candidates, tractor and truck pulls. There are couples who appear to have been married for decades walking around holding hands. There are overall-clad farmers right out of central casting filling benches to watch the crowd. People just seem to flat like The Mooreland Free Fair. They like it a lot.

It is a throw-back festival with no sign of dying.

And of course, my newspaper, The Courier-Times, covers the Mooreland Free Fair.

This year I had the opportunity to work two things I have never done before, in 35 years of community reporting. One was an antique tractor pull; the other a family-friendly magic show. I decided to approach it the way I approach anything I cover: Why is this activity important to these people? Why does the community at large care?

So I called the magician early and got some background. He left me a saved seat for the show.

And I talked to the tractor pull guys before it was time to start their engines. What interested me was how they had more to say about the relationships with each other than of boasting of their mutual competitive drives.

Here's the tractor-pull story which ran Wednesday in The Courier-Times.

I'm almost 60 but when you work in community journalism, there's always something new. Even if it's something old and charming such as The Mooreland Free Fair  -- no, make that The Mooreland World's Fair.

What are you reading this summer?

Just this morning I finished one of those books so delightful that I didn't want it to end. The title caught my eye while headed out of the library: Strangers tend to tell me things.

Hey, that's my story, I thought. As a writer, it's what happens; often they tell me lots of random things. Last week I sat next to a fairly recent resident of New Castle who transplanted from Nebraska while I covered a senior center luncheon for the paper. She unpacked her story so thoroughly and personally, and gave such a splendid shout-out to how much the local senior center means to her, her photo and comments became leads to my resulting story.

But what's interesting about Amy Dickinson's book, mentioned above, and subtitled: A memoir of love, loss, and coming home, is that while I figured that our writing careers would be what we had in common and why I would enjoy her memoir -- that's the least of what drew me in.

She is famous for her Ask Amy syndicated column and I am not famous for anything but, I imagined that she'd talk a lot about her career and life as a columnist.

Turned out though, that the writing experience is a minimal part of the book. We have so much more than writing in common such as our mutual core loves for our tiny hometowns. Hers is even smaller by a lot than mine. She was raised in the boonies of that town on a farm. I was raised in the boonies of my hometown on a farm. Consider even the names of our hometowns: Hers is Freeville. Mine is Liberty, or fictionally honoring the town, I call it Freedom in my novels.

We're both the youngest in our families of origin. We're about a year apart and as kids, had trouble sleeping, wanting our mothers near at night after our grandmothers died. We both grew up in small Methodist churches. We both get the utter goodness and whip-smart insights of rural folk.

Amy, who also works for NPR and appears on the show, "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me," could live anywhere she wants but instead, settled back in her New York-state hometown as soon as she became an empty nester. Becoming an empty nester inspired the theme of returning to a woman's roots in my first novel.

In another oddly ironic moment, when I snooped around the internet for images of Amy, one popped up of her wearing a dress nearly identical to the one I chose for son Sam's wedding.

I also related to Amy's stories of coping with her mother's decline and death, and I swooned with her over her romance with -- get this, for real -- falling for the "boy next door" who had grown at midlife  into the man of her dreams and she married him.

You can bet that I'll soon be reading Amy's first book, The Mighty Queens of Freeville.

My small group from church, the Midlife Moms, just finished our study of Priscilla Shirer's book, Fervent, and I'm placing it on the bookshelf today. The new one we'll start a week from tonight is Liz Curtis Higgs' Bad Girls of the Bible: And what we can learn from them.

This summer I read the proof copy of friend Janis Thornton's true-crime book, Too Good A Girl, now available from her or on amazon. And out of the blue, the church sent along Henry Cloud and John Townsend's book, Making Small Groups Work: What Every Small Group Leader Needs to Know.

In a few weeks Bible Study Fellowship resumes and we'll start our journey with Joshua in the year's study, People of the Promised Land. Ovid Church is hosting a satellite group on what I hear will be Thursday mornings, an extension of the New Castle group that meets Tuesday mornings. I attend the Middletown group that meets Monday nights in Middletown.  These are women's Bible studies and if you are interested in joining BSF, you are more than welcome to do just that.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some summer porch reading to get to.

So what if no one ever accused the Ovid Midlife Moms of traveling light? We need a few, ahem, supplies, for a weekend at Terri's lake house on Cordry Lake. And this is not counting what the eighth member of our weekend crew brought on Saturday morning.

We went Friday after everyone got off work. We couldn't wait to get there, gather the evening's menu offerings, and enjoy a picnic on the lake. We had eight of our 12 present.

Dinner onboard included Sharon's homemade ham salad sandwiches, Terri's pea salad, party mix, an assortment of fruit and I see some celery sticks in there. There were yummy, ooey-gooey chocolate bar cookies as well.

The weather was perfect and some of us headed back out on the boat shortly before bedtime to see God's moon show.

What a beautiful scene from the water. A cellphone camera doesn't do it justice, but yes, the moon was THAT bright.

Still, I was the first to bed around 10:30 p.m., and I slept well as I dozed off thankful for this weekend that so many of us look so forward to all year long.

That's why I couldn't believe it when I didn't get up until 9 the next morning!

When it's not your turn to cook, the scent is all the sweeter coming from the stove.

Delaine make the best egg casserole, and we enjoyed it with biscuits, fresh fruit and zuchinni bread by Patty. Delicious.

All but Karen, who came Saturday morning, are the gals who made it this summer weekend.

Such fun, including tubing, swimming, boating, moon-gazing, movie night watching "The Greatest Showman," and a beautiful Bible study on the boat Sunday morning, courtesy of Karen, taken from the book of Joel. Oh, and some crafts, including some bookmarks made from this and that.

Thank you Terri, for the wonderful, relaxing, laughter-filled weekend. And thank You, Lord, for your creation, your abundance, and for providing such sweet friends.

Note: Welcome my friend, Janis Thornton as today's guest blogger. Janis  releases her new book, a true-live mystery about the sudden death in 1965 of her Tipton High School classmate. The launch is 2 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 4 in the Tipton County Public Library, 127 E. Madison St., Tipton, Indiana. Janis is getting statewide media notice about her update to this still-unsolved mystery. She will be speaking and fielding questions on Saturday, along with signing books. Yours Truly will emcee the program.  Maybe we'll see you in Tipton.

Pursuit for truth, justice unfold in 'Too Good a Girl'
by Janis Thornton
      I’ve never forgotten Saturday, Oct. 16, 1965. It was supposed to be special, full of happiness and renewal of old friendships.

     Tipton High School’s homecoming celebration was that weekend. My boyfriend, a year ahead of me in school, came home for the first time since moving to Bloomington to attend college. That Saturday, we went to dinner with my just-married friends, who recently had settled into their first home and were already expecting their first child. We had lots to feel joyful about.

     Unfortunately, the day turned out anything but joyful. Instead, for me and the entire Tipton community, Oct. 16, 1965, became synonymous with profound tragedy and despair. It was the night Olene Emberton didn’t come home.

      Olene was a quiet, well-mannered, studious, 17-year-old Tipton High School senior. That night, she dropped off a friend at his house and drove away, headed for home, a journey of only six blocks. Inexplicably, she never arrived. The next day, her car was found parked and locked at a four-way stop three blocks from her house. The day after that, her body was found discarded alongside a remote, Tipton County road.

     The autopsy revealed no cause of death. The investigation by local and state police proved fruitless. The sudden, unexplained death of Olene Emberton has never been solved.

     Her death was especially difficult to process because she was a member of my class. We had attended school together since fourth grade. We lived just a block-and-a-half apart. And even though we weren’t close friends, growing up in Tipton in the 1950s and ’60s provided countless shared experiences. I often look back and wonder how her life might have played out had it not ended that October night in 1965.

      The notion of researching and writing about Olene’s case first occurred to me some 30 years ago, long before I had the skills to undertake such a sensitive, emotionally- riddled subject that was certain to ruffle feathers, stoke anger, and hurt feelings.

       Someone needed to set the record straight. Why not me?

      Fast forward to 2004. I had been a staff writer for The Times of Frankfort, Indiana, for five years. That’s when I made the decision to dive in, to honor my classmate by telling her story and preserving her memory.

     So, off and on for the next 14 years, I pored over court records, combed through news articles, tracked down and interviewed law enforcement officials, sent Freedom of Information Act requests, picked the brains of forensics experts, studied criminology, attended conferences, surveyed my classmates, talked with Olene’s friends and remaining family members, and followed all the loose ends, and snapped the puzzle pieces together.

     The result of my long pursuit for the truth has manifested in a book, “Too Good a Girl,” which launches Saturday, Aug. 4.

     Did I solve the mystery? No, but I did weave all the strands of Olene’s complex story together so readers can make their own tapestry of truth and discover their own conclusion.

    In the almost 53 years since Olene Emberton’s mysterious death, her friends and loved ones have never stopped asking, “What happened”? Unless someone steps forward soon with a sudden recollection or a confession, it’s likely we will never know. However, even without that closure, we can take satisfaction in pulling together to honor her name and her memory.

     When Olene was a freshman at Tipton High School, she authored a brief autobiography. In it, she noted her plan for the future.  She wrote, “I want to attend Ball State University … and after I graduate, I want to be a teacher.”

      Sadly, Olene was not able to follow her dream. But I believe there is still a way she can help future graduating Tipton High School students achieve theirs.

       The Tipton County Foundation has agreed to establish the Olene Emberton Memorial Scholarship. When fully funded, the scholarship will benefit college-bound, Tipton High School seniors who, like Olene, plan to pursue teaching.

       Reaching the fund-raising goal of $25,000 by the end of 2018 will ensure that the fund is permanent, so an award of $1,000 can go to a deserving student in Olene’s memory every year.

       I invite you to visit www.tiptoncf.org and consider making a gift. In addition, a portion of the proceeds from the sale of my book will go to the fund, and every donor of $100 or more will receive a complimentary copy with my gratitude.

      “Too Good a Girl” will be available for purchase at www.janis-thornton.com and Amazon beginning Aug. 4.

So it’s Wednesday, hump day. Never mind wondering where this week has gone already-- what about the whole summer so far?

One good thing --or make it three good things -- about the nice-weather months this year is that I’ve got to see my friend Gay three times since May. Since Gay lives 100 miles away, that isn’t the usual case.

In early May, Gay hosted me to speak to her sorority in Angola; then in late May, she, husband Rick, Brian and I took a long-weekend to visit Galena, Illinois. This past weekend was “bonus” time as Gay slipped down on Friday and we spent the rest of Friday and Saturday running around to visit favorite consignment shops, boutiques and a nice yard sale a mile north of the Warm Glow Candle Outlet on Centerville Road in Wayne County.

We managed to get in a movie on Friday night and I got to hear all about Gay’s recent trip to California. It was so much fun.
 
Today, I had the pleasure of meeting, in person, Elaine Pence, who invited me to attend a break-out book-review session about my first book, Sweetland of Liberty Bed & Breakfast, at the upcoming area Extension Homemakers Retreat at Lake Placid Conference Center in Hartford City.

The committee has also asked me to be their opening speaker. I’m honored and excited because three of the counties involved in the retreat represent my three “homes:” Union, Henry and Madison counties. Elaine and I discussed some details and she sent me home with the retreat’s full agenda.

I also swung by the library and picked up a memoir by Amy Dickinson, Strangers tend to tell me things. She writes the syndicated Ask Amy column. The book, subtitled “A memoir of love, loss, and coming home,” looks downright yummy.

It's hot and sunny and I can't wait until 5 when I'll enjoy some early-evening pool time while I can. Summer is moving too quickly.

Happy Wednesday, everyone!