By: Marlene Oxender
Years ago, two of my grandchildren were big fans of a raspberry dessert that could always be found in our kitchen freezer.
Paisley was five years old when she walked past my husband with a bowl of the treat in her hand.
He asked her if he could have a bite. Paisley pulled the dish and spoon closer to herself and told her grandfather it was “yucky.”
Her statement made us laugh and left us with another inside joke. Now when someone asks for a bite of our food, we tell them it’s yucky. We make an attempt to save them from the terribleness of our food.
Although “terribleness” is a word I’ve casually used in conversation, I decided to search the online dictionary to make sure it’s a real word.
In so doing, I stumbled upon synonyms of the word “terrible.” It’s a list of awful words, but a scroll to the bottom of the page reveals the antonyms – a much more pleasant list.
Several of my friends, who’ve read my stories about the town I grew up in, have teasingly asked if I really did grow up in Mayberry.
That tells me I must be good at remembering the good times. I must be good at using words from the more uplifting list of words.
So, I simply agree: Yes. Edgerton was Mayberry. Complete with a barbershop and an old-time hardware store. A bakery. A diner where the locals gathered.
I was recently shopping in Edgerton’s flower shop when I ran into Phil, the guy everyone knew as the hometown barber. He’s retired now, but the barbershop is still there – kept in operation by his son.
Phil was able to answer a few questions about Edgerton’s Civil War Monument, better known as “Clem.”
The monument had been placed in the center of Edgerton’s busiest intersection more than a century ago, and Clem is the granite soldier who stands on the top.
As travel through town advanced from horse and buggy to modern-day vehicles, it became increasingly difficult for large trucks to maneuver around the monument. As part of the Route 6 Highway Improvement Project, village officials were asked to move Clem to a safer location.
Cora Beerbower was an Edgerton resident who was born in 1885 and would have been 27 years old when the Civil War Monument was dedicated in a ceremony in 1912.
She was one of the residents who felt Clem should not be moved. And if he was moved, he should be facing south. But Clem was moved to the town hall park in 1972, and he’s facing west.
When a tornado hit the village of Edgerton in 2010, the town hall building was heavily damaged. Clem, who stood in front of the building, had taken a flying leap to the ground during the storm. He was actually missing for a short while.
In the days following the storm, it was determined the town hall building was beyond repair. But the monument could be restored, and Clem found his place once again keeping guard over the village.
If Clem could write a book, it’d be an interesting storybook filled with happenings from his point of view. He’d tell us how people and customs have changed over the years.
How families walked by with baby strollers ahead of them and toy wagons behind them. Children on skateboards and bicycles. Golf carts traveling by quietly and motorcycles not so much. And the trains – right there beside him rolling through town.
Clem knows the history of the fire department and the equipment they used years ago. He now watches as firemen drive quickly to the fire station, hop into fire trucks, and head to where they’re needed with equipment only they know how to use. Cora lived to be 100 years of age, having passed away in 1985.
I found Cora’s scrapbook in my parents’ estate, and she’d be glad to know I’ve taken an interest in the information she left behind.
After Cora retired from her teaching career, she was employed as Edgerton’s librarian. She was also a poet and published author.
Sorting through memorabilia that once belonged to my parents has been an ongoing project. I look at the collection of newspaper clippings and would prefer to just toss all of them. But the stories are so interesting.
I found a newspaper clipping that reported the Hicksville, Ohio, police had responded to a call on East Smith Street.
Older children were teaching not-so-nice words to the younger children. In Spanish. An investigation was completed, but the juveniles denied knowing anything.
If I were a police officer called to the scene of a crime such as that, I wonder what I’d do. How would I obtain the needed evidence?
Certainly, the officers never forgot the day they received a call about improper language being taught and spoken right there in their hometown.
Those children are now senior citizens. Maybe someone who’s reading these words is recognizing this story as a familiar one.
Is it you who remembers the day the police showed up and asked a few questions? Have you grown up with an inside joke that only you and your circle of friends can tease each other about?
Today’s online dictionary makes it easy for Paisley and me to search for a more honest word to describe her raspberry dessert.
An antonym for “yucky” is “splendid.” Or “splendiferous.” It’s a fun word. And it is even more fun when spoken with a cartoon character’s voice. Or that of a sports announcer.
I wonder how many times Cora had used the word “splendid” during her one hundred years of life on earth. We can wonder the same about ourselves. How creative are we at stretching the truth with words?
I’ve heard it said that if we’re not having fun, we’re not doing life right.
Cora is gone now. Clem is still facing west. And I’m sorting through my collection of newspaper clippings. I’ll let you know what I learn – with only the most wonderful words I can find.
———————–
Marlene Oxender is a writer, speaker, and author. She writes about growing up in the small town of Edgerton, her ten siblings, the memorabilia in her parents’ estate, and her late younger brother, Stevie Kimpel, who was born with Down syndrome. Her two recently published books, Picket Fences and Stevie, are available on Amazon. Marlene can be reached at mpoxender@gmail.com
