Was he real, or imagined, this is the story of

STONY MAN

From our home in Stanley, Virginia, where we lived from 1990 to 1996, we could easily look up to the mountains east of our little farm and see the Skyline Drive. It was a spectacular view, particularly on a clear, moonlit evening.

There was a “lookout” listed on the Drive called “Stony Man”. It was an outcropping of granite and other stone, which resembled the face of a man. From this reality, emminated the “story of stony man”. During those years in Stanley, in the shadows of the beautiful Shenandoah National Park and we enjoyed many stories together….they were inventions of the imagination…

STORY of STONY MAN….began one winter’s night in Kite Hollow where we lived. The snow was falling heavily. We had several surprisingly big snow storms during our years in Stanley. Sarah was 13 in 1994, and Hannah was nearly 5.

We brought Lightfoot, our Collie/Labrador mix from New Hampshire. Fogey the Prince of all Dogs, was an Irish Setter, who also came from New Hampshire. These two wonderful dogs were more to us than pets. They were family members…The girls adored them, cared for them, and took pride in their different personalities. Fogey was the proud, strong manly dog who stood tall and straight. When Fogey ran across the pasture, you had to watch him. His gate, his posture, and his profile as he literally “flew” through the air…Lightfoot, on the other hand, was a plain lovable dog who was loving and intelligent. She looked at you with “human eyes”, have you ever known a dog like that?

Welll, “Once upon a time”, as we used to say, the snow was coming down. There must have been more than a foot of it already covering the ground. As Hannah called in the dogs at suppertime, we noticed Fogey came bounding to the door, as he usually did, but Lightfoot was nowhere to be seen. Where was Lightfoot…? We went out front on the porch and called again, and again… So, we waited for about half an hour, expecting her. But then both Sarah and Hannah thought that we had better go out and look for her.

But, the snow was falling, and the lane was already filling up with snow…how could we get out and look for Lightfoot? We decided to take the tractor, a 1952 Ford 8N model which was a sturdy and dependable vehicle for mowing, hay riding and plowing snow. On this night, Fogey ran along side the tractor as we left the lane and turned onto the road. Hannah and Sarah both stood along side Daddy on the huge rear axle, left and right.

We looked and called and looked and called. We turned right and headed towards the mountain…turned toward “Stony Man”. We weren’t sure we believed that there was actually a “man” named “Stony Man”, we knew “Stony Man” as an overlook where the stony outcropping of rock, resembled the profile of an old man’s face.

With Fogey leading the way, and the tractor’s head lights shining on the snow, we drove deeper into the “hollow” and continued looking. We noticed that Fogey began to get agitated at one point as we passed by a narrow snow covered driveway to our right. No mailbox, no markers of any kind were to be seen. But, as Hannah and Sarah looked up this seemingly abandoned driveway…they shouted, “Daddy, Daddy, there’s a little cabin up there, and there are lights on….there’s smoke coming out of a chimney!” And, sure enough, as Daddy looked up through the heavy snow, there was surely someone living up there.

Fogey began to sprint toward the small structure…he was leading us to something…and what a surprise we would have… As we drew closer to the little cabin…there was not a sign of life anywhere, except for the smoke coming from the chimney, and a dim light shining through the single window, beside the only door. It was dark…and the girls held tighter to their Daddy, as the tractor slowed to a stop….but, why was Fogey making such a fuss? Why was he barking? Fogey never barked. But tonight there was something unusual about him. He could see in the dark, you know…dogs have that ability, you know.

About that time, we saw the target of Fogey’s excitement and his agitation. There was a black dog chained by its neck to the side of the cabin. This dog was shivering in the cold snowy night. There was a bowl near him…and nothing else. When this dog saw Fogey, it immediately jumped to its feet and pulled at the chain. Fogey came close and we could see them greeting each other…who was this other dog? Finally, Hannay screamed out, “Lightfoot, Lightfoot!” And Sarah said, “Daddy, it’s Lightfoot”…someone had apparently “stolen our dog”! And here she was cold, alone and tethered to a strange dark cabin several miles from home.

Daddy jumped down from the Tractor and pounded on the door. We needed to find out who had taken (or found) our Lightfoot. After two rounds of knocking, the door slowly swung open…we could see a fire burning inside in a very small room. As the door came cully open, we say a big man standing before us. But, was it a man? It looked more like a combination of a scare crow, and a statue made of stone. His face seemed to be made of stone. His nose and chin were sharp rock-looking features. His eyes shone as jemstones of some sort, seemiingly illuminated from within…they glowed. And, his voice! When he said, “Who are you? And what do you want?” He sounded like a cement mixer trying to speak. Gravel-ly and grating, his words were understandable, but very unpleasant sounding

The girls stood behind Daddy as he told the man that we were looking for our beloved Lightfoot, and that we found her, tied to the wall of this house…” Daddy wanted an explanation, and without hesitation, the man gave one. His voice continued to grind and rattle as he said, “I found this dog along the road coming into Kite Hollow..she’s a friendly dog, and on the cold snowy night, I thought I would take her to my home, here and wait for someone to come and fine her.” We quickly understood that this man was not a threat to us, or to Lightfoot. Although, if we judged him by his appearance, we might have called him a “monster” of some sort, as he didn’t look human, but more like a scarecrow made of stone.

Fogey and Lightfoot were now playing together at the corner of the cabin, and Daddy quickly moved over to unhook Lightfoot’s chain. So, with our dog-rescue complete, we started the tractor again, with the dogs along side and Hannah and Sarah standing once again beside their Daddy, there was one more question needing an answer…”What’s your name?” Daddy called to the man standing at the door. “They call me ‘STONY MAN’, he called back to us. We immediately understood why he was known as STONY MAN…he looked like he was made of stone, and he lived in the shadow of the rock outcropping that bore the same name…STONY MAN.

We went quickly home to Mother, and told her the story. She had worried as we were gone for more than an hour…the girls gave her the full story, with every detail. Mother/Ellen was amazed! She couldn’t imagine a man who was “made of stone, and spoke with a voice sounding like a cement mixer!” She asked exactly where we had found Lightfoot. We showed here exactly where we had been on a small map we kept at the house.

The next afternoon, the roads were plowed, and Mom insisted that we drive back to “Stony Man’s house”. As we took the station wagon to the spot we had stopped by the little lane leading to the cabin…we found nothing there! There was absolutely nothing to be seen. No cabin, no little lane, and no sign of Stony Man. There were no tracks in the snow, either. What had happened to Stoney Man? Where was he?

Months went by and we sometimes talked about our snowy adventure, and our encounter with Stony Man. We asked the native residents of this little town of Stanley if they had ever seen a cabin in that location, or seen a man matching our description. No one had, except an older gentleman, who gave this account…”Many years ago”, he said, “there was a story told about a man who lived alone in a little cabin up by the STONY MAN overlook on the Skyline Drive. But that was almost a hundred years ago. And, no one has ever seen him since before the First World War..(1919)”

How could this be, we wondered. Hannah asked, “Daddy, are you sure we saw him up there?” And Sarah said, “It might have been our imagination, you know.” But later that summer, when we took Lightfoot and Fogey for a long walk and passed the spot we had found Lightfoot that stormy night…both dogs sprinted together up the hill where the driveway was…they seemed to know where they were going…they quickly returned when we called them. In Lightfoots mouth we saw she was holding the remnants of a tattered leash…the very one, we remembered seeing at the house that never existed, and saw the man who never existed….

How Gum Girl came to be

GUM GIRL - BARBIE and KEN

Both Hannah and Sarah had a massive collection of BARBIE DOLLS. Hannah inherited several from her big sister, and added dozens more, it seemed to the collection. So we weren’t strangers to BARGIE and KEN dolls. Barbie and Ken were talked to, and of course, they “talked back”. There were many real conversations to be heard if you stopped by the door of either bedroom when the girls were playing with them. So it was only natural for Daddy to invent a story about the two dolls named BARBIE and KEN. Here it is…

“Once upon a pie…, I mean, once upon a time….BARBIE and KEN decided to take a ride in Ken’s new Jeep. “Oh, Ken,” cried Barbie….”I can’t wait to go for a ride with you in your new Jeep. I love the color! Thanks for choosing PINK!” And, pink it was. Poor ken was so “hen pecked” by Barbie, he would have done anything to please her. “Ok, Barbie”, Ken said. “I think I’ll take us into the woods and go ‘off-roading’ where we can test out our 4 wheel drive!” “Oh, Ken,” Barbie bubbled….”this is so much fun!”

So, off they went in Ken’s fully equipped Jeep C-Jay. It was an “inline” 6 cylinder motor with a heavy duty winch mounted on the front bumper. Ken almost hoped they would get “stuck” so that he could show Barbie how he could attach the winch cable to a nearby tree and “pull” the Jeep out effortlessly. Ken would get his wish this day, and more, much more

As they started off on their journey that day, Barbie was singing. She was so happy to be outside in the open air, instead of resting inside one of Hannah’s “Barbie boxes” where she slept, and sometimes stayed for days at a time.

It was a bright and sunny afternoon as the pink C-Jay bounced and lurched along a fence row in a farmer’s field. Barbie stopped singing long enough to say to Ken, “Ken, can you slow down a little, I’m getting scared!” And, of course Ken immediately took his foot off the accelerator, down shifted and brought the speed down to under 20 mph. He was always quick to do whatever Barbie asked him to do…what a gentleman he was!

A little later Ken got an idea. He said to Barbie, “Barbie, would you like to see how this Jeep can go ‘anywhere’, and never get stuck?” Barbie know where Ken was going with this, so she said, “Ken, I’m sure the Jeep can get out of the mud, or a ditch, but let’s not take any chances…we’re pretty far from home out here, you know.”

But Ken was on a mission, now. He wanted to demonstrate to Barbie how invincible the Jeep was. He would show Barbie a thing or two…

Just ahead the farmer’s field ended, and the terrain turned into a rolling and hilly area. Up and down they went, with Barbie alternatively laughing and screaming, when Ken hit a particularly big bump. Then, Ken decided to show Barbie a couple of old abandoned wells he had found. When they came closer to the two deep circular shafts, Barbie yelled, “Stop, Ken, stop! Don’t go any closer! Please!” But it was too late, as Ken applied the brakes, his right foot slipped off the pedel and onto the accelerator….the Jeep sped forward until Ken replaced his foot on the brake pedel. By that time, the front wheels of the jeep were already sliding into the well…and, down, down, they slid…it was a good thing that they were both securely buckled in, and that Ken’s Jeep was equipped with a “roll bar” so they didn’t fall out, or hit their heads on the walls of the deep abandoned well.

When they finally came to a stop, Ken reached for the light switchs, and turned on both the heaelights, and the spot lights mounted on the roll bar overhead. But all Barbie could see was the damp brown walls and the floor of the well around them. They were surrounded by almost vertical walls, with nothing to allow for climbing up or out! Barbie yelled, “Ken, get us out of here!” And Ken, trying to be calm, said, “Ok Barbie, relax, we’ll be ok…I’ll find a way out.” But Ken’s heart (it was a plastic heart) sank when he looked around and found no way out.

Ken thought about the heavy duty winch attached to the front of the Jeep, but knew that there was nothing nearby where it might attach. Ken also knew they were more than 30 feet below the surface and that climbing up the slippery walls would be impossible.

So, Ken broke the news gently to Barbie, who was nearly inconsolable. She was now crying, “I’ll never see Hannah and Sarah again!” But, Ken was more optimistic than that. “If only I could signal someone with my “walkie-talkie””, he said. “You have a walkie-talkie with you?” yelled Barbie. “Of course”, he said, “this Jeep is equipped with everything!” So Ken began to chant, “May-day, may-day” into the hand held plastic radio. But, no one responded. No one seemed to hear….another half hour went by, and Ken kept trying to get a response.

Just as Barbie began sobbing again…they both heard a female voice coming from above. When they looked up, they saw nothing. In a few minutes, they heard the voice again. “Can you hear me?” called the girl. “Can you hear me?” “Yes, we hear you!” Ken cried out….”We hear you” Barbie yelled. But they still saw nothing at the top of the well-shaft.

But then, they saw the head of a dog looking down at them! There were two dogs, in fact. One was black and one was red….Lightfoot and Fogey had found them…but how could two dogs get them out of their prediciment? Just then a little red haired girl appeared along side the dogs. “Hey”, she yelled, “How’d you get down there?” “It’s a long story”, Ken yelled back…can you get help to pull us up out of here?

The little girl didn’t respond, but reached into her pocked to pulled out something that looked like a big packed of chewing gum, a really big pack of gum. As Barbie and Ken watched the little girl unfolded what seemed like dozens of sticks of gum and stuffed them into her mouth! Before long, she had a softball sized “wad” of gum inside her mouth…she chewed and chewed, until she was satisfied it was “ready”.

Ken and Barbie were astonished when the girl began to “reel out” a long string of gum from her mouth, which she lowered down into the shaft as she continued chewing. Before long, this cord of gum reached the Jeep. Ken knew what to do. He tied the end of the “gum-cable” to the front of his Jeep, around the winch. As the girl with the gum watched Ken turned on the winch and the Jeep slowly crept up the side of the shaft toward the light. The girl had secured the top end of the gum-line to a tree near the well.

Finally, the front of the Jeep appeared and Barbie and Ken could drive the vehicle away from the well. They were so relieved and so happy! They jumped out and hugged the little girl who had come to their rescue. Ken said, “Little girl, we owe you our lives! If you hadn’t come along we would still be trapped down there with no one to help us.” Then Barbie said, “What’s your name, anyway?” The shy little girl smiled and put in a fresh stick of gum…chewing, she said, “Well, most people call me…GUM GIRL!”

And, that was the end of the story...

Gypsy Dwarfs

What is a Gypsy Dwarf?

A literal definition might be, “A small person who wanders about.” We might talk genetics, or anthropology here, but for our purpose, GYPSY DWARFS have been watching us and visiting us for nearly two decades.

Where? Here in Virginia. We also observed them in New Hampshire in recent years near Pat’s property in Amherst, along an abandoned logging road near his house. Here in Virginia, we have spotted the critters on our little farm, in Stanley, and on the back road behind Aunt Lynn’s (Ellen’s older sister) house, in Mechanicsburg, VA.

We have never felt a need to report them to the police or any other authority, as they have always been friendly and peaceful.

Allow me to recount, here, one of our sightings and a subsequent adventure with three of the gypsy dwarfs, here in Virginia.

For the chroniclers and historians among the readers, I will tell you that the year was 1993, and the location of this encounter was near the Town of Stanley, Virginia. We lived on a small 5 acre farm there, with a pond, a creek, a barn, a pasture and an orchard on and adjacent to our property. We never wandered far from the property itself, as there were ample targets for short explorations.

We always begin oru stories, with…“Once upon a pie”, we were walking away from the house, toward the barn, which was about 200 feet from the side of the farmhouse. We usually walked “through” the barn when starting our walk, and today was no exception.

Sarah and Ellen were inside the house, in the kitchen making cookies, as I recall, and only Hannah and myself (Daddy) were exploring. As we exited the barn, on the opposite side, the remaining pasture was only about 100 feet deep. The creek, which flooded often in the springtime, as we were downhill from the Skyline Drive and the mountains which elevated it. This time of year there was no evidence of flooding, and the sun was getting lower in the western sky.

Hannah was first to see the flash of color off to our left as we slowly walked towards the end of our pasture. She pointed her left hand straight out and said, “Daddy…what’s that? Over there…it looks like a bird with red and blue feathers!” I looked where she pointed but saw nothing. “Where?” I asked. “Right over there near the big tree, Daddy,” she said. But, still, I saw nothing…

We walked on, and made a turn left of the fence row, towards the creek, and that’s when IT HAPPENED. I heard what sounded like children laughing, giggling, actually, and noticed a flash of the colors Hannah had seen. The sound and the “colors” came from our right side…near the creek. I told Hannah, “Stop, be still.” I thought that whatever was out there we didn’t want to let them know we were watching them. As we looked in the direction of the creek in complete silence…we saw…(you’ll never believe this) the tops of three little heads appear above a row of rocks, at the bank of the creek.

Hannah started, and became tense…I held her arm, as I looked closely at the small creatures. There were three, and they had not seen us as yet. They were speaking to each other and laughing…They spoke so rapidly, I couldn’t tell whether it was English or some foreign tongue. They were about 3 feet tall, and each one wore something on their head resembling a hat. Each “hat” had three or four feathers attached which made the little people have a festive and friendly appearance.

But, we couldn’t be certain…they were strange indeed, and never had either Hannah or Daddy ever seen such a sight. We remained quite still. Oddly enough the three little ones began to walk our way! They hadn’t seen us yet, but they walked directly towards our position. In only 5 to 10 seconds, they were so close that they HAD to see us. And see us they did! Their language of chatter got even louder and less understandable, as they pointed at Hannah and looked at me.

Hannah was nearly the same size as our three visitors. They seemed to be wondering whether Hannah might be “one of them”…but, they quickly seemed to understand that she was not.

I said, “Hello, who are you? And what are you doing here?” I spoke it in a friendly way, as there seemed to be no need to fear them. The one closest to me answered, “We are only gypsy dwarfs, and we live here in your woods. We don’t bother anyone and usually never talk to big people like yourselves. My name is Hobo, and this is Bandit, and Rascal, my two brothers.” These three little people looked very “human” but their clothing and their short stature gave them a “fairy like” appearance.

They didn’t seem afraid of us, and neither did we have reason to fear them. They said they knew where we lived, and that we had two dogs, and two cats. They also knew that Hannah had a big sister living there in the farm house. As they seemed ready to turn and go, Hannah said, “Do you like cookies?” The brother called “Bandit” answered, “Yes, of course we like cookies. Do you have a cookie we could eat?” Hannah told them that her Mother was baking some chocolate chip cookies right now, and that they would soon be ready to eat.

It was as if, the three little ones had just heard the best news ever! They asked, “Do you think we could have a cookie?” Hannah looked at Daddy and got confirmation that it would be fine, if we invited them home with us to share a couple of hot cookies before they continued going wherever they were going. So, she said, “Sure, come with us, and we’ll take you to see Mommie and Sarah, my sister. As the five of us turned to walk to the house, the one called Rascal took my hand and asked, “Could our sister come, too?” “Who’s your sister?” I asked. Rascal, said “She’s Bashful…I mean, her name’s Bashful, and she is bashful, you know what I mean…” Just then a little girl moved out from behind the nearest tree. She was so cute! And, so bashful, too. So now, there were four of them! Hobo, Bandit, Rascal, and Bashful. My goodness. What a surprise for Mommy and Sarah!

As we approached the house, Fogey and Lightfoot, our Irish Setter, and Labrador-Collie mix greeted us. The little ones seemed afraid, so I assured them that our dogs were harmless. Hobo then asked, “Have your dogs ever seen Gypsy Dwarfs before?” What’s a Gypsy Dwarf: I was wondering. “That’s what we are, you know, we’re Gypsy Dwarfs” and dogs sometimes chase us and try to bite us!”

“Not these two dogs,” I said. They are the best doggies in the world and they will be your friends, just like Hannah and I are your new friends. “Let’s go inside and get some cookies, okay?” The liked that idea and we soon passed through our sliding back door into a new world of warmth, (it was still cold outside) and the wonderful aroma of cookies baking.

“Well, what have we here? Asked Ellen…Sarah seemed very confused and excited to see the four little people coming through the door. Hannah announced, “They’re Gypsy Dwarfs! And we found them in the field behind the barn….can we give them some cookies?, PLEASE, Mom?”

“Of couse we can”, said Ellen. “We can share our cookies with them.” And, “What are your names?” So, Hobo introduced his two brothers, Bandit and Rascal, and then his sister, Bashful. They were so cute. Sarah was sitting on the sofa by the kitchen table and invited Bashful to come and sit by her. But, Bashful, was bashful, and needed some convincing. So, Sarah got a small glass of milk and two warm cookies and held them out for Bashful to take. Sure enough, that did the trick. Bashful smiled and crawled up onto the couch beside Sarah and took a big bite of her first cookie and a sip of the milk.

For the next 30 minutes, or so, we had company. We had the most unusual company we had ever seen! We had Gypsy Dwarfs” for cookies and milk, right there in our kitchen.

It was as though a timer had been set in little Hobo’s head, as he suddenly looked up at me and announced, “We must go now. We must be home before dark, or we’ll be in trouble.” And just that quickly the four of them moved to the door. I opened it, and we all said goodby to these most special characters. They filed through the door, and began running for the field almost immediately. They were gone!

“Will they ever come back?” said Sarah. “Yes, cried Hannah, I want to play Barbies with Bashful!” Mommy and Daddy agreed that they had “no idea” whether we would ever see our Gypsy Dwarf friends again. And, here ends our story. We NEVER SAW THEM again. And people who have heard the story of our encounter with the four Gypsy Dwarfs that day never really believed it. They smiled and nodded their heads, but they didn’t really believe in their “heart of hearts” that we had cookies with the Gypsy Dwarfs.

What do YOU think? Do you BELIEVE there are such things as Gypsy Dwarfs? As I have said, we never again encountered Hobo, Bandit, Rascal, and Bashful, but we HAVE seen the tops of their colorful feathers peeking out above the rocks when we take a walk. We have seen the colors, many times. Maybe YOU SHOULD LOOK for these colorful feathers, too, as you walk outside near the creek and near the woods…

…and THAT WAS THE END OF THE STORY…

The Marvelous Toy

How My MARBLE SHOOT came to be.

One Saturday morning in 1950, Daddy took me along to visit a friend of his, out toward New Holland. It was a treat to go anywhere with Daddy, and this memory would be even more important because of what happened there.

During the hour or so visit, where Daddy and this man, (I think Dad called him “Shoey” as his name was Shoemaker) talked and talked. But I had nothing to do while they talked…so Shoey noticed me sitting alone there, and came out with a wooden object he called a “marble shoot”. He sat it on the floor, right in front of me. It was something I had never seen before.

What’s a marble shoot? And, How does it work? Well, I soon found out, when he gave me a bag of marbles to load at the top end. Then releasing them, I marveled at the sound and the sight of these colorful spheres running down, back and forth along the “shoot” until they exited at the bottom, into a box Shoey had placed there. So there I was, hypnotized, and focused on this wonderful new toy. It was the neatest thing I ever had seen.

But here’s the big part…you’ll never guess what Shoey said to my Dad, when it was time for us to leave….I couldn’t believe my ears….Shoey said, “Hoppy, I want Billy to have the marble shoot…I want you to let him take it home with him! My kids no longer use it.” What? Was I hearing correctly? Was I on the receiving end of the most marvelous toy ever invented? Yes! Yes! Shoey, was so gracious…he had watched Billy Hopkins playing with the marble shoot for more than an hour, without stopping. I’ll never forget his generosity and kindness that morning!

And, that wonderfully made MARBLE SHOOT is still in the family! Some of you have seen it and played with it, as I did some 60 years ago! And, it was so solidly made and with a flawless design that no careless or rough treatment could ever diminish or degrade it’s quality. It’s like new!

So, where is this MARBLE SHOOT today?

Leadership Styles and Arrowheads

Who was “Had” Yeager?

And, What was his Leadership Style?

That’s a great question. And the answer might take many forms. If you were an AFL-CIO Local 285 member between 1935 and 1955, you knew Had Yeager as the Secretary of the local. Had wrote and published the newsletter each week, which he edited and typed personally. Then the “mimeograph” copier was utilized to run 100 copies for distribution among the membership. Had Yeager was a tireless advocate for the “working man” against management.

If you were a member of the Communist Party in Lancaster during the late 1940 and early 1950’s, (remember Joseph McCarthy’s hearings, in the House Un-American Activities Committee?) you remember Had Yeager too.

But, if you’re reading this HOPKINS of VIRGINIA blog today, you probably remember Had Yeager, (Harry Smith Yeager 1890 – 1974) as “Haddie”, he was our Grandfather. Our Forefather, to use Fogelberg’s label.

Haddie was like a father to Lydia and Johnny Hopkins, and myself. From the late 40’s until we all graduated from High School, left Lancaster, or got married to a Kreider…he was everything to us. He was Nana BeBee’s advocate, personal shopper at Rutz’s sale, and he was Nanny Yeager’s estranged husband.

Haddie lived at 240 West Liberty Street with his two sisters, Mim and Floss, (Miriam and Florence). Their Aunt Mary lived there too. She died in 1952 at the age of 90. She was the sister of Anthony Yeager, who was the father of these Yeager siblings. Mimmie’s Husband Sam Cliff also resided there at 240. He chain-smoked, and “bet the ponies” as Haddie would often remind us. Uncle Bobby lived on the second floor of the house, across the hall from Haddie’s room. Bobby was wounded at the battle of the Argonne Forest, in France in 1918. So, Mim, Floss, Had, Bobby, Aunt Mary, and Sam Cliff all lived there.

But, in 1959, Bobby, the Marine veteran of the Great War, (WWI) bushwhacked Haddie one Friday night, as Haddie was going up the stairs to bed. Bobby hit Haddy over the head with a “home made black jack”. It looked like a “darning” ball used for patching socks. This was the “last straw” for Had. He decided to try to leave 240 and move into an attic bedroom 4 doors up, at 248 West Liberty Street. So, Nana BeBee and Nanny Yeager agreed to let Haddie move (back) into our house. This was like a major event, and a major source of joy for Lydia and Billy (that’s me). We loved being around Haddie, and couldn’t imagine a better outcome of the Bobby-Haddie conflict.

But, having given you all this background, I MUST GET TO THE POINT of this blog entry. I want to tell you of something Haddie and Billy used to do. I’ll bet the young men who are descendants of my Grandfather, Had Yeager, would also love to do what Haddie and I used to do. This activity demonstrates his LEADERSHIP STYLE better than any other anecdote from his life.

It was called ARROWHEAD hunting. Usually in the summertime, Haddie and Billy would walk from Liberty Street on a warm afternoon, down the mile long street, (Liberty) till we got to ‘CONSUMERS’, where farmers brought produce for processing. Then we followed the Pennsylvania RR tracks toward the New Holland Pike and finally turned left there and walked up a sloping hill, by RCA, where Nana Beebe worked for some 20 years, as a Laboratory Technician. Beyond the RCA parking lots, there on the New Holland Pike... was the Conestoga Creek. Have you ever heard of the Conestoga Indians? Or, perhaps the Conestoga Wagon? Of course you have. If not, “google” them and get the story.

Well, Haddie and Billy had walked more than 4 miles that warm summer day, let’s say in 1956 or so…and we got to the ARROWHEAD hunting grounds. There in a freshly plowed farmer’s field, adjacent to the Conestoga Creek, Haddie told Billy, the story of how the Indians always lived near the creeks, and how they planted corn, and actually “made” arrow heads by heating the stones, and dripping cold water very carefully onto the edge of the stones, creating a “chip” where the flint would snap off in response to the temperature difference, between the hot stone and the cold water.

But on this day, Haddie’s intention was to find something 200 years old, in a farmer’s plowed field near the Conestoga Creek. Haddie was very methodical, and very patient. ‘FAT CHANCE”, I thought….but I was with my Grandfather…my Haddie, and this was precious time…and who’s to say that we wouldn’t find that “needle in a haystack”, a real artifact from the Conestoga Indian culture there in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

Now…we walked along the plowed rows of young corn plants, up and back, up and back. Rain had washed the ground the day before, which Haddie indicated was fortuitous, as more stones were exposed because of the “wash”.

I looked and looked and Haddie looked and looked, until it was obvious to me that our “ARROWHEAD HUNTING” adventure for that day was going to leave us empty-handed. I was hot, tired and thirsty, and beginning to weary of the hunt. I watched Haddie for a signal that he, too, was ready to begin the long walk home.

But, as, I watched him, he seemed to be looking down intently at something on his row. He called me over…and pointed to something. “What?” I asked…and Haddie said, “Look there…right there…do you see it?" He didn’t bend down and move the object, and he didn’t even point his finger close to it…he just said, “Look, there it is…” As I looked closely at the two foot square area of the field which was the object of Haddie’s intention…I saw something that “might” resemble the back end of an arrowhead. Looking closer, I saw this stone object, almost white in color. It was buried in the reddish soil at least half way…It was about 2 and 1/2 inches long. It looked like the “back” of the arrowhead was exposed, and the “head” or tip, was buried…Haddie didn’t touch it…he only directed me to it…he kept pointing, patiently. HE WANTED ME TO DISCOVER THE ARROWHEAD, for myself! He might have reached down, pried it up with his finger, and handed it to me…

And THIS IS THE POINT OF MY STORY. Leaders love to set others up for success. And, they take great pleasure watching them do it. I didn’t call it his LEADERSHIP STYLE then. But I know my love for my Grandfather, grew that day. This demonstrated Haddie’s unselfish focus on these children of his daughter, Bertha Mary Rodkey Hopkins. He loved us as his own children. Haddie married our “Nanny Yeager”, (Edna Belle Yeager) in 1915, when Bertha was 7 years old. Haddie and Nanny Yeager were married and Beebe was no longer without a Father. What a FOREFATHER he became to all of us.

I’ll never forget that moment in time, there in the farmer’s field, with my Grandad. I found an arrowhead. I pried it up, lifted it close and showed it to Haddie. I think he was happier than I was! What a moment! What a coincidence! And what a treasure that arrowhead would become! The story was told and re-told over and over.

But before we walked all the way home, (4 miles) on that hot afternoon. Haddie and I had a spot pre-selected to stop for a soft drink…there was a tall metal, refrigerator like machine dispensing drinks, near the RR tracks on the New Holland Pike. I can still see the thing standing there. And, I can see Haddie putting the nickel into the slot…opening the door to reveal the vertical stack of metal caps of the bottles. He always chose the same brand…UPPER-TEN. Yes, it was a seven-up clone that tasted fruity and fresh. I would watch as Haddie lifted his bottle to drink, and saw him (usually) spill some of the drink down his chin, onto his sleeveless T-Shirt. He was not a “big” man, 5’11’ and about 180 pounds. But he had what I call a “bull neck”, very muscular and always exposed in the summer time, as he wore that tee shirt. (I don’t think he bothered to wipe the soft drink away).

So Haddie always got himself an Upper Ten, and I got a root beer, or an orange. Then, we walked the last 2 ½ miles home. This time, we were beaming with pride when Haddie announced to everyone, how “Billy found his arrowhead!”

THE BIG LESSON HERE, perhaps for you, is that Haddie was totally unselfish as a father/grandfather….he wanted me to have the joy of discovery…he was thinking of how he could give me joy….We found several others during those days, and put them in a box beside Haddie’s bed there at 240 West Liberty. And where are those arrowheads now? Ask sister Lydia!

Dan Fogelberg's "Forefathers" poem

I can't help myself, or keep from regularly musing about the time of
life in which I find myself. I never thought I'd be the oldest guy in my family...

Kreider's a FOREFATHER, Uncle Bill's a forefather, The Chief/Doug's a forefather....
and the young "pups" reading this blog know that their turn's coming...

Here's Fogey's Poem: (see YOUTUBE link at the bottom to hear the song)

They came from Scandinavia, the land of midnight sun
And crossed the North Atlantic when this century was young
They'd heard that in America every man was free
To live the way he chose to live and be who he could be

Some of them were farmers there and tilled the frozen soil
But all they got was poverty for all their earnest toil
They say one was a sailor who sailed the wide world round
Made home port, got drunk one night, walked off the pier and drowned

My mother was of Scottish blood, it's there that she was born
They brought her to America in 1924
They left behind the highlands and the heather-covered hills
And came to find America with broad expectant dreams and iron wills

My granddad worked the steel mills of central Illinois
His daughter was his jewel, his son was just his boy
For thirty years he worked the mills and stoked the coke-fed fires
And looked toward the day when he'd at last turn 65 and could retire

And the sons become the fathers and their daughters will be wives
As the torch is passed from hand to hand
And we struggle through our lives
Though the generations wander, the lineage survives
And all of us, from dust to dust
We all become forefathers by and by

The woman and the man were wed just after the war
And they settled in this river town and three fine sons she bore
One became a lawyer and one fine pictures drew
And one became this lonely soul
Who sits here now and sings this song to you

And the sons become the fathers and their daughters will be wives
As the torch is passed from hand to hand
And we struggle through our lives
Though the generations wander, the lineage survives
And all of us, from dust to dust
We all become forefathers by and by

here's a link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYbgC2vW9dk

We're a Team, or are we?

Good morning everybody... Hope you are finally feeling that SPRING IS HERE!

Don't forget we're each part of a TEAM, or a FAMILY, right? . And "we are the team",

or the FAMILY....so let's remember our role there, whenever we think of it...for example

we can ask ourselves...

1. What can the Family do for others (in the family) today?

2. What can I do for the my team/family today... a message of hope or inspiration? "What

can I do to help?"

3. How can we advance the cause of "building up" each other? That's a little more subtle...

Suggestion: we might call or SKYPE with each other...just to chat, and NOT TO ASK

"So, have you gotten that Paper done for next week?" Or, "Have you been cleaning your

room, helping your Dad/Mom like you promised to?" "You ARE doing your devotions

every day, aren't you?"

I personally am tired of pressurizing our team and family environments...I'd rather relax and let my vision or my goals for a relationship start to do some of the work...then, by the close of a given day, I have MY OWN incentive to have DONE SOMETHING THAT DAY, to bring MY VISION into focus, etc. Know what I mean?

Well....have a really GREAT DAY, and try to find someone (or two) you can "build up" with

an affirming comment, like...."Hey, Johnny, it's great seeing you today....you really know how

to make things happen, or you have a great way of being positive, wherever you go...you're always so helpful to your Sisters and Brothers......etc."

OR, BETTER YET, try setting up YOUR OWN AFFIRMATION,,,,(something you say about yourself and repeat it again and again..) My favorite one is: "I am a positive person, always looking for ways to lift others up..." Then think of ways (imagine opportunities) you might happen onto someone whom you can "lift up" in some way....

Okay, this might put you OUTSIDE OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE....that space where you are comfortable..but remember that NO REAL GROWTH CAN OCCUR unless you get out of your comfort zone...where you do or say something that pushes the envelop a little...like that compliment/affirmation where you lift up

someone else.

Let's try it! Then post how it goes...what happens...Ok?