Prof Kohler

OVERDRIVE

3769 STATE ROUTE 127

CELINA, OHIO

GRAND OPENING JULY 11, 2008

Ribfest 5k Results

May 17, 2008

Mercer County Fairgrounds

Fort Recovery Local Schools Employee Banquet

May 22, 2008

Elementary/Middle School Auditorium

The Carolyn Anderson Family: Sierra, Carolyn, Alexis, Dan, Emma; Jacob, Jason. Daphne, Jennifer, Chris

20 years: (not in order) Vikie Jutte, Carol Ranly, Becky Link, Becky Rammel with one missing

30 years with one missing and not in order: Barb Sautbine, Jill Walter, Bob Perbeybile, Janet Pottkotter, Diane McClung, Charlene Pearson

Steve Schulte Catches Greased Pig

at Mercer County Ribfest

1 minute and 15 seconds

May 17, 2008

Parkway High School Graduation

Class of 2008

May 18, 2008

High School Gymnasium

Robert "Bob" Thompson

Named

2006 Rockford Citizen of the Year

Robert Thompson, Rockford Citizen of the Year J. R. Sigler, Master of Ceremonie and LuAnn Sigler

LuAnn Sigler, 2005 Citizen of the Year announces this year's winner and Bob Thompson and his wife find out

LuAnn Sigler proudly presents the award to Bob Thompson who is shown graciously accepting it

Ohio Representative Keith Faber presents a Proclamation from the Ohio House of Representatives

Commissioner Jim Zehringer presents a proclamation from the Commissioners; family gathers for photo

The "Bob Thompson extended family" celebrates the happy occasion Herb Tripp congratulates Bob Thompson

8-Minute Vocational Acceleration Experience

presented by Brand It Design

Twyla and Pete Hayes

Parkway High School

April 25, 2008

St. Henry FFA 54th Annual Banquet

Romer's Catering Hall in St. Henry

April 22, 2008

79th Annual Parkway FFA Awards Banquet

Parkway High School

April 23, 2008

Welcome Reception in Honor

of Appointment of Dr. Jim Sayer

Dean of Wright State University Lake Campus

May 5, 2008

Tom Sudkamp congratulates Dr. Jim Sayer for years as president of Staff Senate and Appointment to Dean of Wright State University Lake Campus

WSU Provost Steven R Angle was on hand to announce the appointment of Dr. Sayer as WSU Lake Campus Dean

Provost Steven R. Angle praised the appointment of Dr. Jim Sayer as WSU Lake Campus Dean

Tom Sudman the new president of the Staff Senate recognizes Dr. Jim Sayer for his years of service in that position

The community welcomes Dean Dr. Jim Sayer as he reflects on his years as president of the Staff Senate

Dr. Jim Sayer reflects on his years of service as president of the Staff Senate as he takes on a new roll as Wright State University Lake Campus Dean

The community and students welcome Dr. Jim Sayer as the new Dean of the Wright State University Lake Campus

Part IV

WW II Veterans Trip to Washington D.C.

April 27-28-29, 2008

Sponsored by

Robert V. Van Trees

Fort Recovery American Legion

Fort Recovery VFW

Edward Obringer who provided scooters for the trip with Ralph Staugler in background

"And the dog dropped from the sky," is what the article in the paper said a couple of weeks ago. Who said it couldn't "rain cats and dogs." Especially if you live in the hunting territory of a Great Horned Owl.

You recall the story of the owl that was driving the residents of a senior citizens residence in Greenville, Maine up a wall. This owl cleaned out all the birds and rabbits, squirrels and cats in the neighborhood. It was not afraid of the elderly, either, as it would lunge down at them.

Finally, the death of a residence's dog was the last straw. According to resident Robert Shufelt, "the owl attacked his dog "Bandit" when he took him out for a walk....The owl lifted the 20-pound poodle-Pekinese mix into the air and out of sight. Moments later, the dog dropped from the sky." Enough is enough. Game wardens called to the scene, waited for the owl's return, and sent him to the Great Beyond.

According to the Lincoln Library, there are over 400 species of owl in the world with 28 different species in the U.S. Most owls are helpful critters, ridding us of mice, rats, sparrows, and the like. The exception--the great horned owl--"very destructive to poultry" and apparently rabbits and squirrels, cats and dogs.

A few years ago we had a dozen geese who were better than a watchdog. Anytime anybody pulled into the driveway, you never heard such a racket. Then one fall day they started disappearing. I mean the whole goose--no feathers, no bones, no nothing. Whatever was getting them was either carrying the goose away or eating the whole bird on the spot.

One suspected a weasel--but normally they just suck the blood at the neck and leave the carcass. Another guessed it was a fox. Funny the geese kept disappearing, but we never heard much racket. I couldn't imagine them tolerating any wild animal in the pen.

We were down to a couple of geese and then one even as we drove in from a late dinner engagement, there was this giant bird--wings spread leaving the pen, his own dinner in toll. The next day I found a place in the haymow where the Great Horned Owl was feasting. We penned up the remaining geese, but it wasn't much use, because in a couple of days, that own had the rest of them. And we never saw him after that.

Much more common around the farm is that little fellow who comes us around the buildings in the fall letting out the painful wail that shoots right up the spine--the screech owl. Zoologists tell us he's a big help on the farm catching mice and rodents, snails and snakes, but that screech is enough to remind you of the witch scene in "Macbeth."

Now there's a lot of stories about owls and creatures that fly in the night, but nobody could tell the stories better than John D. Collins, former math teacher at Spencerville. Some folks are bigger than life--such was John D. Collins.

In his teaching career he must have taught several thousand students. Can you imagine the influence of that man? He had all the math books he taught memorized--I mean memorized. When you came into the room and sat down, he'd say flip to page 79, row 3, problem two--"What did you get for an answer?" "Come up to the board and show us how you did it."

Talk about focusing on the students. He knew the curriculum so well, he never had to take his eyes off the students. Now John D. was a man of the night and he liked to hunt, especially creatures of the night. I remember one time he said he was in the woods looking for coons when he stopped by a tree to rest. In a little bit he heard a big owl--hoot, hoot, hooting into the night, trying to stir some movement, some sign of food.

"So I commenced to hoo-hoo-hooting back," John told us with a sparkle in his eyes and a smile forming on his lips.

"And not to be outdone, I returned even a bigger call-who-o-o-o, who-o-o, who-o-o-ing!"

"He returned an abbreviated answer and then all was still. I didn't want to let the fun end there so I started to call again, when wham--something hit me on the back of the neck. About that quick I lost my cap and a chunk of hair as he swooped down on me and made just as quick for parts unknown."

For years, John D. was THE math teacher--so after a couple years of junior high and two-three years of high school, you got to know him, and he got to know you pretty well.

I remember this advanced math class with Jim Krindel, Jim Merricle, Leland Schnelle, and Alan Hubley. John knew his math; John knew his students, but he loved a good story; we loved a good story. So we always managed to work in one of his latest hunting or fishing trips and still learn about polynominals. I don't ever remember hesitating going to his class; I don't ever remember going away not learning something--about math and life, too.

I think one of the things that kept John at it so long was he liked kids and liked to see kids learn. I think his favorite time was physics class when we learned first hand about electricity. We did all the typical experiments, like the electrostatic field where you form a human chain with the guy on one end holding a light bulb while the guy on the other end sticks his hand into the electrostatic field.

But John always did things in a big way--much bigger than most teachers and you knew that when you went in there. One time I went to the pencil sharpener to sharpen my pencil. The class got real quiet. I sorta felt everyone was looking at me and all I was going to do was sharpen my pencil when zap--I got a could charge up my hand and arm. I let go of the sharpener and dropped my pencil all in the same motion. The class roared, John broke into a big smile, and I sat down, red face in all. I had my electricity lesson for the day.

Now I don't suppose anybody else, including John, recalls what I'm about to share. But for the full effect, there was a little wire that ran back in the floor boards to a couple seats in the classroom. Nobody knew what seats were wired, but there was a lot of good attention and good answering during electricity.

I still remember this one fellow who grapped a hold of an old sink faucet (bent in a semi-circle) and plum straighted that pipe into one long piece before he let go and the electricity let go of him. Now John had a couple of boys, Bill and Skip (John Jr) and they were heaving into scouting. As a matter of fact some years ago I interviewed Bill who set up a Scout Museum across the road from Fort Amanda.

When I think about the tremendous influenced John D. Collins had on all us kids I think about what he taught me about math and what he taught be about life--John D. Collins taught me to "Be Prepared."

"I sure was sorry to miss Prof Kohler's funeral. My wife and I were on the road and couldn't get back in time." I ran into Steve Cathcart the other day and we were recalling the influence Albert J. Kohler had on us and on several generations of kids who attended Memorial High School sometime in the period between the 1930's and early 1970's.

Let's see, just when did Prof retire anyway? Funny thing, I read about him in the paper on the last page where they put the obituaries, but that was just an official account of his life that ultimately is put there for everybody. Prof Kohler, dead? No way. Some people never die. Oh eventually in a generation or two, people will say Prof who? But Prof's influence in terms of our attitudes and behavior, values and morals, goals and objectives goes on forever.

My mother had Prof Kohler in 1934 and my aunt, who was older than her also had Prof. Like the recent-announced retiring Eugene "Skip" Baughman," Prof was bigger than life, he was bigger than the institution; Prof Kohler and his counterparts were "the institution."

Sometimes in your life, if you're lucky, you meet someone who has a tremendous influence on who you are, what you believe is important, what you deem is right and what you are sure is wrong. Prof Kohler was that kind of a person. I don't think Prof set out to be any more than a teacher, but because he had such strong values himself, he influenced everyone he met. Know I'm not saying everyone liked Prof Kohler, but everyone respected him. Maybe that's the best any of us can hope for--to be a person of strong moral character who is at least respected by others.

What I most remember about Prof Kohler's physical appearance was his eyes and big broad shoulders. I think they were gray or light green and when he looked at you, you had the feeling he could look right through you. And I remember his shoulders being wider than the desk he stood behind. I never remember him sitting down, although maybe he did years later after I had graduated.

Prof Kohler also served for years as Assistant Principal, but I never remember him in the role, except that handling the attendance sometimes made him late for class. He had a little stick about 18 inches long he used for a pointer, but often when he came in late from his attendance job and the class was talking loudly, he would stand behind his desk chair and take that stick and beat on the back of the chair until it was quiet. I never remember him ever raising his voice, but the sound of that stick hitting the back of the chair was very effective.

He also had a tremendous vocabulary, and like his co-hort, the highly respected Latin and English teacher, Emil Steva, he could cut you to ribbons with words--just words that you didn't know what they meant, but you knew by the way they sounded, you had just been chewed up and spat out.

Prof Kohler made teaching look so easy. I don't remember him ever looking at a lesson plan and he never passed out worksheets. He knew the subject matter; he knew the kids; and he knew how to bring the two together. He spoke in short, well-thought-out sentences that carried direct and indirect meanings. You quickly learned to pay attention to what he said for few words carried much meaning.

When I was a few years older and came back to begin teaching, I remember standing in awe behind the same chair and in front of the same board where Prof Kohler stood, I felt very much out of place. And when I go the band and choir concerts even now I know Prof is behind the door to room 26 or he and John Van Cleve are taking a break in the projector room.

I remember once, by chance, I went after school with Prof and Buhlea Kohler, Emil and Onalee Steva, John Van Cleve, and R. Jon McQuillan to Rowen's Cafteria. It was a very select group and I felt the bond that existed between these veteran teachers, professional in their jobs, with the kids, and with each others. I knew as I sat there, quietly listening, that that was special, that these half dozen teachers were unique.

I have often thought about Prof Kohler and these teachers, and the influence they continue to have on the lives of thousands of area residents. Sometimes when school was out, I would be pulled into the auditorium by the most wonderful-sounding music and there on the stage would be Emil Steva, a very accomplished pianist relaxing after a day of teaching.

Sometimes if you go into the auditorium when no one is there and close your eyes, you can hear the piano playing and if you open your eyes very slowly, there is Emil Steva at the keyboard. Some day the walls will come down, but the halls will remain filled with the ghosts of these who once walked there.

Sometimes when things aren't going as smoothly as we'd like and we get frustrated and discouraged and want to lash out at the world, we often are jarred back to our senses at how good we really have it.

We are reminded of the many people who have given up themselves beyond what is expected, who literally have "given their shirt off their back" for us. It is humbling to be around such people. They surely put things in proper perspective Such a person is the General Practitioner, at least as we once knew him, and as he still exists in the best of doctors.

Dr. Guy E. Noble, who practiced medicine in Leaderland for many, many years, was such a man. He was a legend in his own time and too much a part of our lives to ever forget the influence he had on us. I was a small boy when I got to know Dr. Guy. We always called him "Dr. Guy" to distinguish him from his brothers, Dr. Walter Noble and Dr. Harry Noble who were also doctors.

Dr. Guy had this office at 317 West Spring Street about where the Leuger's Insurance office is located now. It wasn't a very big building, but Dr. Guy, made up for it. As I remember he wasn't very big either, physically that is, but he was so well-known and so well respected that it was like going to see God, or at least a very famous movie star or baseball player.

When I was 12 years old I got to meet Bob Feller, famous Cleveland Indians hurler, but he didn't impress me as much as Dr. Guy did. I remember one time when I was about 8 years old or so, sitting in his waiting room with blood all over my face. We had been in a bad car wreck just east of Parker Hannifan and near where Paris Cleaners is now.

As some of you recall, there used to be a railroad track just east of there and there was an apple orchard just northwest of the tracks, where the parking lot for Parker Hannifan is now. Anyway, we were coming back from a fishing trip at the lake and a big semi trucks brakes locked and he pulled into us. This was before seatbelts and the crash threw me up into the rearview mirror and sliced my head open.

I'm laying on the ground under one of those apple trees, blood running everywhere, my parents probably scared to death and I kept asking, "Is the car going to be all right?" When I got older, I learned that sometimes the perception is more important than reality. And with the reassurance of my parents, I was finally convinced that the car, demolished as it was, would be all right.

There have been a lot of doctors in Leaderland before and since, but in my family in the 1950's, it was Dr. Guy. He was THE doctor, for a whole lot of us across Leaderland. I don't remember how we got to his office. They weren't all those EMT's and ambulances. I think somebody stopped at the accident scene and drove us up to Dr. Guy's office. I was riding in the backseat with mother holding a blood-soaked hanky over my head.

There we were sitting in Dr. Guy's office, waiting for a miracle. In a few minutes he came out and the whole atmosphere changed. It wasn't that the wound suddenly stopped bleeding. I heard him tell my parents later "nothing bleeds like a head wound." It got quiet. Real quiet. As he walked over to me, there was an air of anticipation. This man, who had pulled off so many miracles before, was about to perform another.

I looked up at him. He looked back at me. Reached over to my ear and pulled a quarter out. That was it. If he could pull a quarter out of my ear, I would be all right. And I was. Oh, it took awhile to stop the bleeding. He put a bunch of stitches in my head and sent me home. I kept the quarter. I didn't know it then, but Dr. Guy taught me a whole lot that day about perception and attitude and positive action. Like a lot of other G.P., Dr. Guy was a giant among men. He isn't likely to be forgotten for a long time to come.

This is what I most remember about Dr. Guy E. Noble, but one day when I was a junior Prof Kohler sent me to the library to do some research and there I came across this little book Dr. Guy had published in 1958. The rest of this article is from that little autobiography.

I think some of Dr. Guy's character comes through in the brief preface when he says of the book, "I hope you find it interesting, but if not, discard the whole thing." He also tells the reader in the positive attitude he had about life, "I lived in a wonderful age when things were changing fast." (Sounds like today, if you talk to a person who is alert and has a positive attitude about life.)

To understand and appreciate Dr. Guy, you need to know that he began his practice in Leaderland, sitting up his office in St. Marys in 1905. He made house calls as far away as New Bremen and Minster in a horse and buggy. He first attended Ohio State in 1901 before the football stadium was built.

In the 1940's my family and others were quarantined with a highly contagious fever, visited only by my aunt who left the groceries out at the mailbox and Dr. Guy E. Noble. That precious black bag that Dr. Guy carried symbolized the General Practioner, the House Call, and the wonderful hope for health for all of us across this area.

Dr. Guy had a keen interest in local history and shares in his book a lot of the stories older folks shared with him, especially his grandmother, Eliza Berryman Whetstone Noble. The autobiography covers both the stories she told him of the early history of this area as well as the things from his own life from 1881 to 1958, when the book was written when he was 77 years old.

Dr. Guy reminded me that the office where he found a quarter in my ear and sewed up my head was one of the oldest buildings in St. Marys. Built before the Civil War, a local attorney, Charlie Mott, at the request of the Federal government recruited local men for the war effort and swore them in the front room of that same office.

I was thinking about all the history that took place on the little piece of real estate on West Spring Street and a project Larry Shelby said he and George Neargardner are working on--tracing the businesses and owners of all the stores and offices along Spring Street.

Dr. Guy said he performed over 13,000 surgeries--so I reckon there's a lot more of you out there who were sewed up by him at one time or another. He further points out that he helped deliver over 6200 babies and that up until 1946 all the births he attended were in the home; half were in the home through 1952; and after 1953 they were all in the hospital.

Through 1910 all major surgery was done in the home; and in 1940 all major surgery was done in the hospital. (I think Dr. Guy would support the outpatient clinics of today.) Dr. Guy said, "the kitchen was used for surgery and I would either take a surgical table to the home or take two leaves out of a dining room table and place them lengthwise on the table. The bed clothing was placed on the table and the patient was laid lengthwise on it."

In 1901 when Dr. Guy was 20 years old the first "movie picture" came to St. Marys. Tickets were a nickle and it was called appropriately enough "the Nickelodeon." He tells the story of how he got started in life with "an acre of potatoes, jacks and $20 he picked up off the ground.

He was born on a farm off Fort Amanda Road northeast of St. Marys to Albion Van-meter Noble and Mattie Whetstone Noble. His grandfather, Henry Noble, looking for a money-maker, put out an acre of potatoes which he then sold to the Irish who were digging "Deep Cut" just south of Spencerville.

Grandfather followed this project with that of raising "jacks," which were bred to mares to produce mules, which were highly sought after because they "could get through the mud better than horses or oxen." The $20 that Dr. Guy talked about came as a result of an attempted political vote buy. According to Dr. Guy a political convention was held at the Opera House in St. Marys to nominate a democrat for the House of Representatives.

In preparation for the convention, delegates were being selected at the Noble Township house along the canal north of St. Marys. Dr. Guy's father, A.V. Noble was on the ticket as delegate. One of the candidates called A.V. Noble out behind the township house and gave him a $20 dollar bill, which A.V. threw to the ground. Both men returned to township house. Dr. Guy reached down and put the $20 in his pocket, a secret he kept for many years.

Talk about house calls, Dr. Guy, who set up practice in St. Marys in 1905, even made "boat calls," calling on a couple families who lived on a boat behind the Woolen Mill. He brings another legend to life when he talks about Johnnie Appleseed Chapman staying overnight at this grandparents' home. "He was a peculiar, uncouth and slovenly man... He traveled all the time and would solicit old clothes. He always wore two or three pair of pants even in the hottest weather and if he could not get an old hat from someone he would make his hats out of cardboard.

After staying all night, getting his supper and breakfast, he would either give his hosts apple seeds or plant some on their farm before he left. He was a harmless man, so my grandmother said, believed in God and you could not help but like him...He planted an orchard in St. Marys which was five to ten acres in size and extended from the end of South Street to the Dry Feeder."

Dr. Guy's first boss was C.C. McBroom, also his first teacher at Brewer School north of St. Marys. "I got five cents a morning for building fires for him." His next official job was school teacher when at sixteen he passed the teacher's examination when another teacher explained to him how easily it was to confuse a 6 and 8 on the exam which was open only to those 18 years or older.

Dr. Guy began teaching in the Walnut Grove School district that fall in the home of Tom Schamp because a fire had recently destroyed the school building. He taught a six months fall term, followed by a two-week break, and then a two-months spring term. He was paid $38.35 per month for the fall term; and $20 per month for the spring term.

During the summer he continued his own education at a university in Indiana then took a teaching job in Moulton Township at Glynwood where he taught that fall. Then later taught at the Elm Tree Hall school. In 1901 in enrolled in Starling Medical College in Columbus which later combined with a second medical college and then ultimately became a part of the Medical Department at Ohio State University.

During the summer of 1902, he returned to this area and sold medical books to doctors. "There were so many mud roads in this area that it was nothing to see a doctor wearing gum boots, and wearing a Prince Albert coat and carrying a cane. Either white or black gloves were a part of his equipment."

During the summer of 1903, he traveled around selling the "new" rolling Globe Atlas maps to teachers; and in 1904 he taught a spring term at Yahl School, completing his teaching career.

In 1902 two prominent Columbus physicians selected Guy to assist them with their practice on afternoons and weekends, giving anesthetics and helping with operations at Mount Carmel hospital.

He graduated from medical school on May 5, 1905, with the highest honors in his class. He then set up practice in St. Marys on the following day, May 6. On the same day he made his first house call and "the patient happened to get well."

He recalls the great flood eight years later and how the Cincinnati Enquirer reported that "the St. Marys Reservoir had overflowed its banks and inundated the little town of St. Marys." Dr. Guy recalls being out in that rain when it began, operating on a woman in her home south of St. Marys. Because the water was so deep he could not return to check on her until the rain had stopped three days later. Fortunately a nurse stayed on to look after the patient.

Not being able to return to her on the New Bremen Road, he took a horse and buggy along the east bank of the reservoir. "I counted 17 places where the water was running over the bank. The reservoir bank, by means of the militia and volunteers throwing sandbags up at various places, held to the extent that it did not flood the town. As I drove along the bank that evening it was a sea of water on both sides of me and I was frightened."

Dr. Guy said he performed the last operation at home in 1940 2 and 1/2 miles east of New Knoxville. On April 17, 1916, Dr. Guy married Hazel May Kelchner, a nurse from Lima Memorial Hospital. Although the Nobles had no children, Dr. Guy said "I have had ten mothers tell me their sons have tried to pattern their lives after mine. I get more satisfaction out of this than any other. This makes me feel my life was worth living.

A few days ago I had the opportunity to talk with Jeff Macke, owner of the Carousel Dinner and Comedy Club, SR 127, south of Celina, about Mickey Rooney's visit to Mercer County. Macke explained that after some discussion, the city of Celina agreed to give Rooney the key to the City.

At his age and following all the many movies he had made and wives he had, the gesture wasn't really that big a thing for Rooney, but some day might mean more to the county than they realized at the time.

The following is the story I wrote about his visit, but was never published before for reasons that I didn't fully understand nor are relevant in the long run. The legacy of Mickey Rooney will far outlast any difficulties in noting his visit here.

Mickey who? Is coming where? Yeah, that's right. I know some of you thought he was dead. And some of you probably don't care. But I found out in putting this story together, most of you--of all ages have heard of him, even though you may be surprised he is still alive. And even more surprised that he is coming here.

If you were a teenager of 15 in 1940, (and are now 75 years old, living or dead), chances are Mickey Rooney, was your teenage idol as he was of thousands in 1940 when he was voted the top actor in the World.

If you were born 50 years later in 1970, you remember Mickey Rooney in National Velvet with Elizabeth Taylor that teachers later played over and over as part of the English curriculum. Rooney, who celebrated his 80th birthday last September 23, 2000, has remained well known by a broad age spectrum for two reasons--he has been kept current by technology; and he's like a perpetual motion machine or Timex watch, he just keeps ticking.

On Tuesday, May 1. and Wednesday, May 2, 2001 Mickey Rooney and his wife, Jan Chamberlin Rooney performed at The Carousel Dinner Club, U.S.127 south of Celina, where the 1956 Chevy hangs on top of the sign. The Rooneys were accompanied by musical director, Sam Kriger.

I don't work for The Carousel, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. It really doesn't matter whether you are or ever where a Rooney fan. The man is an icon, with a performance stretching across almost 80 years. He has forgotten more about the theatre, film, and television than most of us will ever know.

Because of his role in so many movies, viewed by millions, he was in large part who we were as a people in the forties, and the fifties, and the sixties, and the seventies, and the eighties, and the nineties. He is best remembered (most currently) for his roles in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World."

Like him or not, the movies have been and continue to play a large part in our lives. This man of small stature (5'1" tall) has left his mark on America and our understanding of ourselves and those around us. Pushed out on the stage as a child by his divorced mother, all his life as he talks about in his biography, Life is Too Short (Villard Books, 1991), he spent his life pleasing others. Born, Joe Yule, Jr., a publicity man named him "Mickey Rooney."

"Nobody bothered to ask me whether I liked it. This is the kind of world I was born in, one in which I had only one reason for existence and that was pleasing others."

By the time he was 20 years old he was the number one star in the world, based on box office receipts. By 21 he was married to Ava Gardner. And between 1942 and 1978, he would marry 7 (8 in total) more times.

Rooney is quick to admit that up until his last marriage to Jan Chamberlin in 1978, he has been a failure at marriage. Rooney explained in a 1996 interview with The Daily Telegraph, "My marriage record amounts to a form of human failure. It was my failure at being sensitive. I think everybody is selfish in marriage. And all divorces are like a five-car smash; everybody gets hurt."

Still two of the most common questions he is asked is about women and relationships. "I don't think anybody knows anything about women. I think all women are different. Nobody knows about women. Why is the girl you go with never the girl you marry?" In regards to marriage, Rooney also told The Daily Telegraph reporter, "Don't marry anybody you love; marry somebody you like."

"Do not tell your wife that you love her. Say, 'I like you. It's a different word. Don't marry anybody you love; that's the secret of a happy marriage. "Love lasts only for months, sometimes only for minutes. Love is sex, love is drunkenness, but it never lasts. But when you marry your best friend, love grows. If you like somebody, it's for a lifetime." (also from "A Visit with Mickey Rooney," The Chicago Tribune, 3/26/98.

As mentioned by The Daily Telegraph article, "Rooney has made over 200 films, has been married eight times, fathered 10 children, gone bankrupt and lived to excess. Yet he remains one of the few Golden Oldies who are still working." The Rooneys live in Westlake, California with their six birds and three dogs.

Finally, here are a few notable Rooney Quotes. "Now is the most important time of all of your lives. That stands for N-O-W. No other way."

"I belong to the public. The public made me. The public can break me. I owe them my life."

Anyone who has lived 80 years is entitled to a hearing, especially someone of so many talents (including acting, writing, painting), who has had such a big impact on our lives over so many years via the theatre and the movies.

This WAS a last chance to see someone who is over 80 years old and the house was packed with a lot of people who probably won't be around when Mickey Rooney returns to Mercer County next time.

I wanted to take a couple minutes of your time and tell you about some interesting people I met sometime ago in New Bremen. One passed away in 1981 at the age of 89 years old. The other one, as far as I know, is still living in New Bremen with his wife. These two men, separated by several years, have much in common. At least I think they do. They are (or were as the case may be) great storytellers.

The first is Ralph May. Ralph was born in 1892 and spent most of his youth in and around New Bremen. Even when he moved away to Piqua Ralph continued to write about his boyhood in New Bremen. Many of these childhood stories appeared in The Evening Leader. And years later, The Friends of the Library set out to collect these stories, and with permission of The Evening Leader and the family of Ralph May, to publish them in a book called, Ralph May Remembers. This is where I met Ralph May. He tells in vivid detail about a world many of you knew well, that I almost remember, and my children and their friends never knew.

The other great storyteller I met several years ago through Norm Holcomb, New Bremenite, and fellow teacher friend of mine. Norm knew I liked to meet people and write stories about them. So he set me up to meet Paul "Pickle" Leitz and his wife Marjorie "Hen" Leitz, two of the most interesting people I have met and had the pleasure to interview. As it turned out, I later found out that Paul and Marjorie were on the committee along with Elodie Sollman, Donna Watkins, Paul and Alice Wissman to preserve Ralph May's writing in book form.