Following the establishment of Grain Valley on September 5, 1878 people began to move into the town to be closer to the Chicago & Alton Railroad. By 1881 the business directory of the town included three doctors; G.U. Keener, James H. Daniels and J. W. Starnes.
     Dr. George U. Keener and his wife Lucretia had 10 children, the youngest born in 1876 in Richmond, Missouri. So, I’m thinking that like many of the town’s early residents, he sought an opportunity for success near the railroad. Dr. Keener, was listed four times on the directory as follows: Physician, Minister, Drug Store, and Hotel. I learned that in 1872 he had been appointed as a bishop for the Methodist Episcopal Church for the Boonville District. The family did not remain in Grain Valley for a very long time. From research on Ancestry I learned he was gored by a bull and died in Allenton, St Louis County, Missouri on October 4, 1889.
     Dr. James Daniels also owned a combination grocery and drug store. The 1880 U. S. Census stated that he was 44 years old and lived in a boarding house run by the Hawkenberrys. He doesn’t appear to have stuck around for very long.
     Dr. John Starnes and his family were still living in the area in 1900, however when he died in 1909, they were living in Independence, MO. His son was a druggist so one would assume the doctors all dispensed their own medications.
     Others on the directory included J. H. Cannon, Justice of the Peace, owner of a general store and Postmaster;  J. A. Porter, Notary Public; John Graves, general store; Frank Gregg, general store; William Morrow, depot agent; J. A. Spindle, blacksmith; George Kreigel, shoe repair shop; H. A. Hamilton, painter; Joseph Wright, carpenter and Joseph Keshlear, livery stable.
     One would assume that most of these businesses would have been in the original town although there is much evidence that James Cannon built the first store in Grain Valley on lot seven in what is called the Cannon 2nd addition.  Most of the early homes and businesses were built on the north side of the railroad.
    Therefore, the Graves and Ashcraft Addition was probably the next land to be platted and developed. This addition included the two blocks west of Main Street and north from the railroad to Walnut street.
     It would appear that the town had a difficult time deciding on street names. The 1877 map identified the street west of the original town as Main Street. The 1904 Map called this street Broadway. The street running west off Broadway was temporarily called North Main Street. 
     The street on the south side of the railroad was called Main Street. Today Broadway is once again Main Street, North Main is Front Street, and Main Street is Harris Street.  Are you totally confused? 
     Visit the Historical Society and view the maps on display including the 1924 Jackson County Map that still has a corner of Broadway and North Main!
 
Next week: Learn more about the John Graves, J. H., Mary and William Cannon, and William T. Ashcraft.
 

     Several months ago, on a Sunday morning, at the beginning of the stay-at-home order, I began my message to the nine people who were in attendance at the church and those watching online.  
     I remember saying something like, “Even though I’m a classic introvert and am not into hugging, when this thing is over, I’m giving out free hugs.”
     Four months later, I’m still waiting for “this thing” to be over and for things to get back to “normal.” Truth be told, I’m missing the human connection and interaction. Complicating the issue is wearing a mask.
     About sixty-five percent of our language is nonverbal. Having something covering our face minimizes our facial features. We can’t always tell if a person is frowning or if they have a stomachache.
     Even before this pandemic, studies suggested that half of Americans say they are lonely. In addition, many others report that they have no meaningful relationships. They describe their existence as isolated, marginalized, and sometimes, rejected. Some social scientists and mental health experts have labeled loneliness as a crisis. In a 2019 article by Kay S. Hymowitz, she calls loneliness an epidemic.
     Loneliness is also dangerous. A study released by Cigna, an insurance company, revealed, “only around half of Americans say they have meaningful, daily face-to-face social interactions.” They claim that loneliness is killing as many people as obesity and smoking.
     Loneliness is a villain that does not discriminate based up age, gender, or culture. It is a vicious predator that seeks to destroy and has manifested its ugly head in self-harm and even suicide.
     I was surprised to learn that, when dealing with the issue of suicide, it’s not the younger people who are the most susceptible. Rather, it is senior adults. The National Center for Biotechnology Information notes that the number one risk factor for suicide is when a person suddenly becomes a widow or widower. The NCBI has called the rise in suicides, a “Major public health issue.”
     The issue of loneliness is really nothing new. In 1974, the music group, “America,” released a song called, “Lonely People.” One of the lines goes like this, “This is for all the lonely people. Thinking that life has passed them by. Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup. And ride that highway in the sky.”
     But loneliness didn’t begin in the 1970’s. We could go back to the thirteenth century where German emperor Frederick II conducted a bizarre experiment. He wanted to know what language humans would speak if they weren’t taught any language. He placed fifty newborns in the care of nurses who were given strict orders only to feed and bathe the infants. The caretakers were not allowed to speak, hold, or have any other contact with them.
     The emperor never discovered the answer to what language they would speak. Sadly, none of the infants survived the isolation. As humans, we were built for connection and interaction. It is a matter of life and death.
     Connection and interaction are so important that isolation has been, and is, used as punishment. I can remember as a kid being sent to my room and had to  close the door until being invited out. In our penal system, more than forty states still use solitary confinement as punishment.
     For the average person, research shows that people without strong social ties are more likely to suffer from major ailments such as heart disease and high blood pressure as well as suffer from lesser ailments such as the common cold. There may be no cure for the common cold, but chicken soup from a friend may help relieve its severity and promote healing. Maybe it’s not the soup.
     But, why do we need one another? Although some social scientists would suggest that our dire need for social interaction goes back to prehistoric times when humans lived and survived in packs in order to protect the herd, as a pastor, I believe the issue is not sociological, but theological.
     Way back in the beginning, in the Garden of Eden, God created the first human in His own image. Adam was one of a kind--literally. He was created for intimacy with his Creator and had the world at his feet. But something was missing—or someone. He was surrounded by other animals in pairs, but he was alone.
     God then said, “It’s not good for the man to be alone” (Gen 2:18). To remedy the pain of this isolation, God created a helpmate and soulmate. That relationship produced other social units such as the family, extended family, and communities. All of it was part of God’s plan and it was good.
     But we weren’t just created to know each other. Primarily, we were created to know God intimately and personally. The French mathematician and philosopher, Blaise Pascal, put it like this, "There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every man which cannot be filled by any created thing.” We were built to know our Creator and interact with one another. That’s our happy place. Our place of contentment.
     Isolation, on the other hand, is part of Satan’s strategy. He seeks to divide and conquer. Jesus, the Great Shepherd, leaves the 99 to find the missing one. Satan stealthily attempts to find those who are separated from the fold and in isolation.
     The Bible says “the devil prowls around like a roaring lion seeking someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:7). Many animal packs, by instinct, learn how to herd in order to protect their young and vulnerable. According to mom.com,   “Bison typically run when they sense danger, but when predators approach without warning, bison form a multilayer circle of protection. The females form a ring around the young, and the males form an outer ring surrounding the females.” Humans, on the other hand, often exclaim, “it’s every person for themselves!” or joke, “I don’t have to outrun the bear, I just need to be able to outrun you.” 
     Loneliness is a crisis, but, I believe, preventable. I guess, if the statistics are true, and 50% of us feel alone, then, either these people are all living by themselves, or some of them are living with us—or are at least in our circle. If you think of it that way, perhaps, we’re never really alone. We’re just disconnected while being surrounded by other lonely people.
     If you fall into this category, my recommendation would be, rather than waiting for someone to come along seeking you—attempt to be proactive.  
     Even in this time of social distancing when many people are not getting out, there are ways to connect. We can connect through the telephone, video, text, and even cards and letters. If you feel the loneliness is severe, seek the assistance of a trained professional.
     In addition to connecting with one another, to connect to God, we have the wonderful power of prayer and the opportunity to connect to Him through His Word. He’s always there. Jesus says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt 11:27).
     On some levels, we all feel a sense of loneliness and isolation. This is expected—for now. Because of the rebellion in the Garden of Eden, the curse entered and we were cut off from perfect intimacy with God. This was the ultimate social distancing.
     On this side of heaven, we can certainly “know God” through His Son, Jesus, but there is social distancing. But, a day is coming. The Bible’s comforting words to believers: “We will see His face.” (Rev 22:3-4). The social distancing will end. The masks will come off. On that day, we will enjoy perfect intimacy with our Creator and one another. We’ll even hug.  Perhaps the band, America, was on to something when they sang, “Don't give up until you drink from the silver cup. And ride that highway in the sky.”
 
     Dr. Wayne Geiger is the Pastor of First Baptist Grain Valley, an Adjunct Associate Professor of Speech, and freelance writer.
 

     Parental controls have become a handy tool for parents that are looking to balance their kids, tween, and teen screen time by blocking online sites and setting time limits.
     Whenever you limit kids' screen time with their devices, it’s going upset your younger family members. It is  important to limit the time your children spend in front of the screen. Most sites and games they play are designed to keep them engaged. Kids always think they know more than their parents and bypassing parental controls.is one of the ways they try to get the upper hand. 
     Want to make sure your kids aren't pulling the wool over your eyes? Here are some ways you can prevent your kids from getting around parental controls.
     Keep in mind there are many devices you can use for parental controls. You can configure routers to keep your kids in check and there are many apps that you can download on their devices for parental controls. In this digital age we live in, there are many methods kids can use to circumvent parental controls.
     If you use the following steps, you should be able to have a good handle of making sure you parental controls stay secure.
 
1. Your kid tries to perform factory reset to their devices.
     On many devices resetting a smartphone, tablet, computer, or, gaming system back to factory defaults will remove the parental control settings. For any device you are using for parental controls, you should always have an admin account and a user account. This way, the device your kids are using doesn't have the ability to have changes made to it.
 
2. Your kid tries to access the admin account to change or remove privileges.
     Kids are crafty and will do anything to get full access to their devices. Whatever you are using for parental controls, make sure you keep the master password safe. To make things even more secure, set up two-factor authentication on your parental control app or device so you are alerted to any unauthorized changes to parental controls.
 
3. Your kid tries to connect to another Wi-Fi network.
     If you have an in-home unit like Disney Circle (www.meetcircle.com), Gryphon (www.gryphonconnect.com), ASUS (www.asus.com), or Netgear (www.netgear.com), as long as their devices are connected to your network, you are safe.
     If you find your kid wants to take their devices over to friends’ homes, they might be using the opportunity to connect to another network to access the stuff they aren't supposed to be accessing.
 
4. Your kid tries to use a VPN.
     A VPN or virtual private network is normally used when you are trying to keep your location and places you visit on the web secret. Your kids and set up a VPN (usually on a computer) to get around your home Wi-Fi and device parental control settings.
     Using app-based parental controls work best because it protects the device regardless of what network they are connected to.
 
5. Your Kid tries to delete the parental control app.
     Most kids are smart enough to install and uninstall apps on their devices. Some parental controls software will alert you if the app is removed from a device. For total protection, set up your devices under a family account. Android, Apple, and Windows devices allow you to configure their devices so you can view the activity on all of the devices under that account. Doing so allows you to see if new apps are installed and if apps are being removed from them.
     Sometimes, no matter what you do, some kids are just extremely motivated to get around those parental control settings. For the ultimate protection, it's sometimes best to go 'old school' and take their devices away at bedtime. It always helps as a backup to parental controls that you look at their devices once a week to view the activity. 
     Unfortunately, there isn't a one solution fits all for parental controls so it's best you get a little familiar with the devices you purchase for your kids so you can keep them safe from all of the threats out on the Internet and make sure they have a good balance with their screen time.
 
     Want to ask me a tech question? Send it to burton@callintegralnow.com. If you prefer to connect with me on social media, you can find me on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, and Twitter and watch great tech tip videos on my YouTube channel. I love technology. I've read all of the manuals and I want to make technology fun and easy to use for everyone!
 
     If you need on-site or remote tech support for your Windows\Macintosh, computers, laptops, Android/Apple smartphone, tablets, printers, routers, smart home devices, and anything that connects to the Internet, please feel free to contact my team at Integral.
     My team of friendly tech experts are always standing by to answer your questions and help make your technology useful and fun. Reach out to us a www.callintegralnow.com or phone at 888.256.0829. 
 

​     It was a normal day in the life of a 17-year-old. I was doing my own thing, living my own life. The phone rang at the house. In a strong Italian accent, I heard, “Wayne! No hotta watah. It’s the watah heateh, the elementa.”
     It was my grandfather on the phone. I called him papa. He was about 89 at the time. My papa and noni came into the U.S. in 1919 from Italy and eventually migrated down to Hialeah, Florida. He spoke English well, but just had a strong accent. Papa and I had a special relationship. I admired him and I always knew that he loved me and was proud of me. I enjoyed being with him and learning things from him.
     As I listened to papa on the phone, I was trying to decipher what he was trying to say. I tried to ask for clarification, but he was a little hard of hearing and didn’t do well on the phone. Finally, I was able to figure out that he had no hot water at the house and the issue was the hot water heater. At the time, I worked at an electrical supply house, but knew very little about actual electricity. However, papa asked for me to come and I headed over.
     Once at papa’s, he walked me outside to a garage where the water heater was located. He said, “the hot watah heateh is no working. He then pointed to a cover plate on the unit and said, “the elementa.” “Oh, the element,” I thought. “That’s what he is saying. He thinks it’s the element.”
     He showed me how to drain the heater, remove the cover plate, locate and remove the element. I was curious how he knew that was the issue, but I respectfully headed to the hardware store to get a new one. In a short time, I replaced it, turned the water back on, and it worked like a charm! I was thrilled. As a 17-year-old, I had no idea how he knew what the problem was, but he knew. He was kind of like that. Papa knew a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff.
     He was a hard worker. As a product of the Great Depression, he was very frugal. I remember him doing odd jobs on the home and as a jack of all trades. He was still trying to get onto the roof of his home when he was in his 80s. I have many wonderful memories of my papa and think about him often. I wish I had learned more from him.  Kids just have their own agenda and do their own thing. Only when we get older do we look back and wish we could have changed a few things.
     I know have a grandson of my own. He, too, calls me me papa. I’m truly blessed in that I get a chance to see him several days a week. Having a child around the house is challenging, to say the least. After raising four kids, I thought my wife and I were finally empty nesters, but that’s not the case. Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
     He’s always filled with energy and always wants to play. We have toys laying around the house and watch shows like Puppy Dog Pals, Roadster Racers, and Bluey. I’m glad that he enjoys coming over and we have a great relationship. Like a typical papa, I at times, spoil him something terrible. Nothing melts my heart more than hearing, “papa” from his lips.
     “Do you want to come in the pool papa?” he said playfully as he splashed around. I had just gotten home. Now, I’m not really a “pool person”. I grew up in Miami and had a pool growing up. To make matters worse, the pool that mama and papa got him is only 10-foot round and 30 inches deep. There is no actual swimming in this pool. I was resistant to join him. “Pweese,” he begged, giving me the sad face. Now, I’ve got a million things to work on, but five minutes later, I am in the pool and he and I are swimming away from the sharks, whirlpools, and tornadoes and having battles with the squirt guns.
     I realize my time with him is limited. Nothing is stable. I am enjoying the time. Although I am extremely busy, and there’s never a dull moment, one of the things that I’ve tried to do is say “yes” to him when I have every reason to say no. “Do you want to play Minecraft?” he asks as I sit on the couch perusing a book for an upcoming study. “Yes,” I say.
     There are times when he plays Minecraft on his handheld or on the game system, but that’s not what he’s talking about. He has quite the imagination and loves to make up games. He wants us to actually be the characters in Minecraft.
     The main character in the game is Steve who walks around and builds stuff. So, he and I, are both named Steve. “What should we do, Steve?” I ask. “Let’s go in the portal, Steve,” he says. For the next twenty minutes, or so, we’ll walk around the house and play Minecraft trying not to get killed by the zombies. He makes sure I get all the verbiage correct and that I’m faithful to the rules of the game.
     Pause” he says as I’m sitting on the couch. We’ve learned that when he says, pause, we’re supposed to freeze exactly where we are and not be cognizant of anything he’s doing while in this frozen state. Then, while we’re paused, he will move our arms around, put our finger in our own nose, or put objects in our hands. “Un-pause,” he says. At that point, we are supposed to be surprised at our unpleasant demise. For him, it never gets old. I have to cut him off at about thirty-seven times.
     BURRRRP. I couldn’t believe what came out of a six-year-old (think Elf and Pepsi). Laughing hysterically, he says, “That was a really big burp!” Triumphantly he asks, “Did I sound like a dinosaur?” “You did,” I said chuckling, “But, buddy, we need to practice good manners. “Excuse me,” he said. I try not to laugh uncontrollably.
     “Hey, buddy, do you want to make a movie?” Puzzled, he answered, “what kind of movie?” “You know,” I said excitedly, “I’ll just use my phone to record us doing something fun and we’ll make it into a movie!” He was all in and moments later, in interview style, I say, “today is [day/date] and we’re talking about what we did today.” We then shared the events of the day and I asked him to conclude with a short story that he had made up while we were in the pool.
     To be honest, I did have ulterior motives for making the video. Time passes so quickly and he’s growing up so fast. One of the things I wish I had was a way to remember my papa. That option doesn’t exist.
     But, one of the things that I can do is help my grandson remember our time together. He doesn’t know it, but I plan on uploading these short videos to a YouTube channel that he’ll have access to when he gets older. So, in a sense, we’re making movies and memories.
     I’m sure, as he gets older, he won’t always be as excited to see papa. But one day, when I’m gone, he might want to reminisce about some of the fun times we had together. In addition to the fun times, I also look forward to sharing important information with him—like how much I love him, how proud I am of him, and how my ultimate desire is for him to know and serve the Lord, and that I’ll be waiting for him in heaven.
 
Dr. Wayne Geiger is the Pastor of First Baptist Grain Valley, an Adjunct Associate Professor of Speech, and freelance writer.
 

     The quest to learn more about the establishment of the town of Grain Valley has led to some surprising revelations.  From previously written histories I had learned, “When the railroad came through, the two townships (Pink Hill & Stony Point) relocated at a midway point between them. They consolidated and formed the City of Grain Valley, Missouri on September 5, 1878 at a location near the main line of the railroad. James Lucas surveyed the land for Joseph Peters.”  Several histories noted that the town size was 10-acres.
     In last week’s article for Valley News, I noted the land was probably owned by Lucas. Several hours of research on ancestry and a telephone call to the Jackson County Recorder of Deeds revealed what I believe is a more accurate picture.
     In 1877, James F. Lucas of Lake Fork Township, Logan County, Illinois, owned 120-acres in the southwest quarter of Township 49, Range 30, Section 35 in Jackson County, Missouri.  A genealogy search for Mr. Lucas revealed that he was born in Logan County on December 20, 1845, married in Logan County in 1867, farmed in Logan County and appeared on the U. S. Census as a Logan County resident from 1850 through 1880. By 1890 he had moved a few miles south to Illiopolis, Illinois, now a suburb of Springfield, in Sangamon County. In other words, he was a lifelong resident of Illinois.  On the 1900 Census it did state his occupation as “landlord.”
     When I contacted the Jackson County Recorder of Deeds, I received this document.
     A strong magnifying glass and a couple hours work revealed this statement at the top of the first page. (The top of the map is East, the left is North, the bottom is West, and the right is South)
     Know all men by those present that I James F. Lucas of the County of Logan in the State of Illinois do by those present set apart four acres of land located in the County of Jackson and the State of Missouri described as follows, that is to say, commencing fifty-eight feet south of northwest corner of the east quarter of the southwest quarter of Section (35) thirty-five, Township (49) forty-nine, Range 30, hence seven hundred and fifteen feet, hence east four hundred and forty feet, hence south to the railroad hence following the railroad due West one hundred and twenty feet hence south to the southern limits of the town hence West to the place of beginning making in all four acres more or less all of said tract of land situated on the Kansas City-St. Louis and (  ? )  railroad. For the ( ?  ) and purpose and profit of the town of Grain Valley.  The aforesaid town being laid off by Joseph Peters given under my hand and seal this fifth day of September A.D. 1878.  James H Cannon
 
This statement appeared on the top of page two.
 
State of Missouri
County of Jackson
 
Be it remembered the James F. Lucas who is personally known to me the undersigner, Notary Public, within and for the said County to be the person whose name is subscribed to the foregoing instrument in writing
As proxy there in this day and hour (?) and acknowledged that he executed and delivered the same as his voluntary act and deed for the title and purchase wherein mentioned given by my hand and official seal this fifth day of September A.D. 1878
      J. H. Cannon
     My commission is dated April 7th, 1877
     And expires April 2nd, 1882
 
     While the wording is unusual, the second document grants Mr. Cannon the right to represent Lucas and turn the land (only “about” 4-acres) over to the City of Grain Valley. I would suspect that Mr. Lucas never left Logan County. James Cannon was a resident of the area and had a vested interest in the town.  He had moved his mercantile business to a store he built on Main Street south and adjacent to the new railroad.   
As for Joseph Peters, there is no record that he ever lived in Grain
     Valley. However, I did learn that he married Amanda Parlee Christison on July 29, 1869. She was the daughter of John Christison who owned property in Section 36 (just north of U. S. 40 Highway & the East Kansas City Airport). His post office box was Blue Springs because there was no Grain Valley at that time. The Christison family was living on this land in 1845 when Amanda was born.
     Joseph and Amanda Peters may have lived with her parents or rented a house, but there is no record of their having owned any property.  The 1880 U. S. Census stated their residence as Preston in Jasper County, MO. The 1885 and 1895 Kansas Census stated their residence was Key West Township, Coffey County, Kansas and Joseph Peters occupation was listed as “surveyor.”  They remained in California, Coffey County, Kansas until their deaths in 1909 (Joseph) and 1915 (Amanda).
     So, it might be safe to say that Peters & Lucas were just in town to earn a living as a surveyor and make a buck off of some land when the town came to the railroad. They didn’t stick around to earn any prominent citizen awards.
 
Next Week: Learn about the Cannon Addition, and Graves & Ashcroft Addition.
 

​     I’ve read the history of Grain Valley so many times I practically have it memorized. James Lucas, presumably a surveyor, laid out the original town for Joseph Peters. The town, 10 acres in size, was incorporated as a village on September 5, 1878. Those 10 acres were East of and adjacent to what is now Main Street.
     My original question was, “Who were these men?”  At this writing I have found only one piece of information regarding either of the men.  The 1877 Township and Railroad Map of Missouri published by Brink, McDonough, & Co. shows that James Lucas owned 120 acres in Township 49, Range 30, Section 35. 
     That might mean that Lucas and not Peters owned the land where the original town of Grain Valley was established the following year.
     It is also interesting to note that the railroad went right through the middle of Mr. Lucas’ land. Therefore, I believe he may have been a land speculator who never actually lived in Grain Valley.
     An exhaustive search of the 1877 and 1904 plat maps do not show the name Joseph Peters on any land within a 5-mile radius of Grain Valley.  This fact  makes me wonder if he surveyed the land for Lucas and not the other way around.
    When the 1904 Map was published, the Lucas land, as well as land belonging to W. S. May, were part of the 219.7-acre Ravensmere Stock Farm owned by Frank Colvin. A few years later this land along with an addition 1500-acres became part of Sni-A-Bar Farms.
     At this time I’m left with more questions than answers.  Over the next few weeks, I will not only try to answer those questions, I will also let you know about the people who owned the land west of the original town and when Ashcroft, Graves, Finnell, Storms, Minter, Cannon and other additions were included in our town. With new homes constantly being built, I have much research in my future!
 

​     There’s a lot of people I want to meet in heaven. Naturally, number one on the list is seeing Jesus face-to-face. But, I’d also like to meet some of the folks in the Bible like Moses, David, and Paul.
     Although it’s down the list, I’d like to meet the first person who decided to manicure their lawn and say, “Hey, I’m on to something. Let’s see if the Jones’ can keep up.” I’d like to ask that person, “What in the world were you thinking?” 
     It’s no secret that I’m just not a fan of lawn maintenance. I do so begrudgingly.
One particular Saturday, I was outside mowing in the 90 degree-plus temperatures. It was being baked by the sun, sweating profusely, and extremely uncomfortable. There were a dozen other things I’d rather be doing.
     As I continued, I heard behind me what sounded like a beep. For a moment, I wondered if, delirious from the heat, I had wandered off course and ended up in the street. I turned my head toward the sound to find a woman who had pulled up next to me in her car and stopped. I was intrigued and figured she wanted directions.
     She rolled down her passenger window and invited me over. To my surprise, she handed me an extra-large, ice cold soft drink and said, “My husband attends your church quite often, but I attend elsewhere. I do enjoy the chance to come once in a while and watch online. I just saw you out here and wanted to bring you something to drink.” I’ve always preferred to be a giver and have a hard time accepting. I accepted the drink graciously and thanked her profusely. It was the highlight of my day.
     Apparently, she drove by one time and saw me struggling in the heat, decided to drive back into town, get me a drink, and then come deliver it to me curbside. I was delighted and overwhelmed by her act of kindness and generosity. That day I was rehydrated by the drink and my faith in humanity was refreshed. I came inside bragging to my wife of this woman’s act of kindness.
     The next morning at church, I was still thinking about it when I looked down at my hand and realized something was wrong. Although I had all my fingers, something was missing. It took only a brief moment to realize, “My ring was gone!” Rats—not again!
     By “not again,” I mean, a couple of years ago, I hurt my ring finger and it swelled up. I really thought the swelling would go down in a day, but it didn’t. In fact, my finger got to the point where my ring was getting tight.
     My wife took one look and was very concerned. “You better get that ring off,” she pleaded, “You could lose your finger!” I tried using every means to get it off. I used soap, olive oil, and even that dental floss trick I saw on YouTube to try and get it off—nothin’ doin. It was stuck. A friend of mine suggested going to the fire station—that they might be able to cut it off.
     The folks at the fire station were extremely helpful and friendly. Glancing down at my hand, the firefighter said, “You need to get that ring off! “Yeah, that’s what my wife said, too” I responded. Thankfully, he was able to cut it off and the swelling in my finger went down in a couple of days.
     At that time, I decided that maybe it was time to think about a different style of ring. I decided to try a Tungsten ring. I wanted something simple and dark. I sized my finger, ordered the ring, and got it in about a week. One minor problem. It was a little looser than the last one. I figured that maybe it was because of the swelling in my knuckle. I never dreamed it would come off, but there I was looking down at my ringless finger exclaiming, “Rats, not again!”
     In addition to mowing the day before, I had put on garden gloves to pull weeds and rake leaves. After church I checked all the areas I had worked. No sign of the ring. My guess is that either it was laying in the yard—or it was in one of the eight or so garbage bags that went into the dumpster.
     I was a little bummed, but decided to have some fun and put it out there on social media saying something like, “Wife number 1: going on ring number 3.” I got a lot of great, humorous comments back. But one friend wrote, “Hey, I have a metal detector and can bring it over.”
     “What a great idea!” I thought. He came over and gave me the rundown on his metal detector. He was no amateur. He had the knowledge and the device and was a true pro. He said that with his detector he could tell the difference between a pop top and a penny. He could even tell how deep the object was. “If your ring is here,” he said, “this thing will find it.”
     I was pretty excited, but explained to him that I did not have a clue of where it might be—or if it was even in the yard. But, I did point out the major areas where I had worked. He grabbed his detector, put on the headphones, and went to work.
     As he searched, I had wonderful memories of my Uncle Don who had a metal detector back in the day. I was just a kid but loved to hang out with him and look for stuff. He even let me try it out. I hadn’t thought about that in years and the memories of my Uncle Don were pleasant.
     Like a seasoned investigator, my friend kept looking, diligently scouring over every inch of the yard—several times. But, unfortunately, no ring. I explained to him that I probably lost it in one of the numerous trash bags that were taken to the dumpster already. It was gone.
     He felt terrible for not being able to find it. I honestly just appreciated his deep kindness to even come over and try! I also enjoyed the fellowship and the trip down memory lane.
     A couple of days later, he called to
 
say that he dropped an envelope by the house. Inside was a note that said how bad he felt for not being able to find the ring and a gift that he said he and his wife wanted me to have to help me get a new ring!
     I was floored and called as soon as I could. I protested, “Seriously, you did all you could and I’m thankful that you even came over to try. I had a great time and enjoyed some wonderful memories of my uncle. I’m the one who lost the ring!” I protested. “I know,” he said, “but my wife and I just wanted to be able to bless you in this way.” I’m not often speechless, but I didn’t know what to say.
     In surrender, I acknowledged, “That is so kind and I am so deeply appreciative.” I put the note on the refrigerator and ordered ring number 3—one half size smaller this time.  
The new ring looks great and fits perfectly!
     I prefer to be a giver and extend generosity to those around me as opportunity arises. But, sometimes, we need to be able to receive too. I love my new ring and whenever I look at it, I remember that wonderful day and the kindness and generosity of two people who recognized an opportunity to make a difference in this world. Kindness really does have a ring to it.
 
Dr. Wayne Geiger is the Pastor of First Baptist Grain Valley, an Adjunct Associate Professor of Speech, and freelance writer.
 

​     I found this old advertisement mailer in items belonging to my granddad Rumbo.  Other than knowing it is from the Grain Valley Mercantile Co., I have no idea about when it was mailed as the postmark is not complete (sometime between 1910 and 1919).
     Copies of the 1889 and 1922 city directories do not mention a “Grain Valley Mercantile Co.” So, we don’t know the year, we don’t know the owner, and we don’t know where the mercantile was located! What we do know is there were plenty of great bargains including men’s fleeced lined heavy underwear for only 19-cents.
     The mailer talks about the “largest variety of merchandise it has ever been our pleasure to offer,” however it is interesting to note that only two actual items are mentioned --calico fabric and men’s underwear.  It is also interesting to note that neither of these items are available in Grain Valley today, over 100 years later!
 
     Visit the Grain Valley Historical Society at 506 S. Main on Wednesdays or visit us online at www.grainvalleyhistory.com and Facebook (@grainvalleyhistory).
 

     I handed my research paper to my professor with a confident grin. I had worked on the paper for days and was confident that it was a masterpiece! Although only in my first year of college, I knew that my professor would be impressed and would likely frame my paper and use it as an example for future students.
     Like a child anxiously awaiting Christmas morn, I couldn’t wait to get my graded paper back. On the fateful day, when class was over, he handed them out. Something was terribly wrong. All I could figure was he made a grievous error and inadvertently given me the wrong paper back.
     I could tell it was the wrong paper because this one had red marks all over it! I checked the cover sheet for the proper student and there it was—my name! Taken aback and a little embarrassed, I decided not to examine my paper on the spot. I stowed it away and headed home.
     Upon arrival, I carefully examined the paper, surprised to find notable errors all throughout. There were misspelled words, wrong punctuation, and poor writing techniques. Some of these were obvious.
     Others were new to me. He made notes like, “This is passive language,” “Your verb here is not in agreement,” and “Use a comma in your footnote rather than a period.”
     At first, I was taken aback. I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I also wondered if I was really cut out for college. But rather than getting bitter, I decided to get better. I accepted the criticism and decided to learn from it. Twenty-five years later, I’m still learning.
     A couple of weeks ago, I was telling a friend of an issue, years earlier, where someone was critical toward me on social media. He was surprised and said, “Wow, I never knew you needed such thick skin to be a pastor.” I laughed and said something like, “Pastors need a big heart and tough skin…kind of like a bighearted rhino.”
     All of us face some type of criticism from time to time. It’s not unique to any profession or person. 
     I don’t believe that any of us like to be criticized. Instead, we avoid it. When criticism manifests its ugly head, we bristle up in anger or retreat into isolation—or a combination of both. 
     Now, to be honest, some people just have the spiritual gift of criticism and were born to fight. They’re not looking for resolution and don’t believe in win/win. They just enjoy fighting.
     People who are overly critical generally operate from a heart filled with pain. Their critical spirit helps them feel better about themselves. Sometimes, it’s just best to not invite these people into your life.
     But for the most part, most people are not like that. Most people criticize out of love or concern. Over time, I’ve learned to embrace criticism as a gift. I’ve learned a couple of things about criticism over the years.
 
     Within each piece of criticism there is an element of truth.
     As a pastor for years, I have the privilege to talk to lots of different people. Everyone has their own opinion that is shaped by their own perspective and environment. But everyone has something to offer. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.
     If someone says to me, “I’ve got a bone to pick with you…I didn’t like it when you…,” I close my mouth, make solid eye contact, smile, and listen closely. I try to remember that, valid or not, they truly believe what they are saying. Generally, the altercation will fall into three categories.     
     First, there are times when it was simply a misunderstanding. In these situations, I may have been misquoted, someone just did not hear correctly, or got the wrong impression.
     I apologize that they were hurt and that I was not clear enough or gave the wrong impression. I tell them that I appreciate their honesty and the strength that it took to be transparent with their feelings and that I’m glad we could “clear the air.”  
     Second, there are other times, when I was just wrong. I made the wrong decision or did not think through something and made a mistake. During these times, I confess my error, ask for forgiveness, and tell them I will work on making necessary adjustments.
     This is not the time for me to point out their faults. I am only the student. I thank them for confronting me and allowing me the opportunity for growth.
     Finally, there are times when I was right in what I did or said, but they just didn’t like it. In these instances, I kindly reiterate my position, offer the necessary evidence for my stance, and apologize that their feelings were hurt.
     Although I may feel bad when people are hurt, I will not compromise what I believe to be truth. They’ll have to see my supervisor on that one.
     In each case, I strive to learn something. Even in times when I was right, I wonder if I could have been more loving and kind and approached it differently. Oftentimes, the answer is yes. The Bible says, “Speak the truth in love” (Eph 4:15). Love must be the ultimate motivation.
 
With criticism comes knowledge and growth.
     As an Associate Professor of speech, through the years, I have reminded my students that criticism is not a bad word. Criticism, done properly (often called constructive criticism), illuminates our imperfections and allows us to make corrections.
     Every single semester, my students are required to do peer evaluations—to point out what their peers did well and could have done better in their speech. They are also responsible to do a personal evaluation where they watch their own speech and offer a personal critique.
     Both are extremely painful, but both are essential for growth—kind of like surgery. The knowledge gained from these times of criticism is extremely beneficial for the future. I’ve had many students have that “aha” moment when watching themselves on video.
     Experience is the best teacher. As the young protégé asked his mentor, “How do I learn to make good decisions? The teacher replied, “By making lots of bad decisions and learning from them.”
 
     Criticism opens the door for reconciliation.
     While it’s true that some people are unkind and prefer to throw rocks on social media while hiding behind a keyboard, criticism, offered for the right reasons, can be an agent for introspection and transformation. The overall goal should be love and harmony. The Bible says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another” (Prov 27:17).
     I have a friend who used to say, “Don’t go away mad. Just go away.” As humorous as that appears, anger causes pain and isolation. It’s a lose/lose scenario.
     Rather, reconciliation and restoration should be the ultimate goal. The Bible says, “If anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness” (Gal 6:1).
     Obviously, none of us are perfect. That’s why God sent Jesus. If you think you are, your issue is simple—pride and arrogance.
     If you’d like to know what your imperfections are, ask several friends, “What do you think are my three greatest weaknesses?” Criticism done properly and received properly can be a wonderful gift. It tears down walls and opens the door for growth and reconciliation.
     Although it hurt at the time, I’m thankful for that research paper that was full of red marks. It helped me to become a better researcher and writer. It also helped me to become a better professor.
     Now, when grading papers, I use constructive criticism, positive reinforcement, specific examples, and, one more thing: I use purple ink.
 
Dr. Wayne Geiger is the Pastor of First Baptist Grain Valley, an Adjunct Associate Professor of Speech, and freelance writer.
 

     Growing up, I probably saw the Williams home on a nearly daily basis. It sat on the southeast corner of the intersection of Main Street and Walnut Street. It was the only house left in “downtown” Grain Valley.  Like many of the older homes in Grain Valley, it has been torn down and today it is a parking lot.
     I remember the house quite well and I also remember the family that lived there --  Otis Williams and Laura McQuerry Williams along with their 3 daughters, Norma, Rosemary and Peggy Ann. Laura was the daughter of Robert and Myrtle McQuerry. She grew up on the family farm on McQuerry Road east of Grain Valley near Lefholz Road.
     Otis was the youngest son of Edward and Alma (Hostler) Williams.  According to the 1900 U. S. Census 5-year old Otis was living at the house on Broadway (now Main Street) with his mother, father, brother Loyd (age 24),and  brother Roy (age 16).
     From recent donations to the Historical Society by Otis’ granddaughter, Karen Carmack, I have learned that the Williams family were quite the entrepreneurs.  I knew Otis as the butcher behind the meat display cooler at Frantz’ Grocery Store in the 1950s and 60s. I recall hearing that he and his father ran a grocery store in Grain Valley years before.
     But here is what I didn’t know! Around the turn of the last century Edward Williams owned a brick-factory. It was located across the street from the house on Walnut Street, just behind the Herrington House (today the community gardens occupy that space). Brick from their brickfield were used to build the Bank of Grain Valley (1905) as well as several other brick structures in town.
     The business directory of Grain Valley for 1922 lists as one of the business in town the E. F. Williams Slaughter House where they processed over 800 head of cattle and hogs yearly.  And an early photo showing businesses on the west side of Main Street includes Williams Auto. 
     Housed between the Bank of Grain Valley and Worthmore Shoe Store, both in brick building which still stand today. I can’t help but wonder if the bricks for the family-owned auto store were made at the Williams Brick Yard?
 
     Visit the Grain Valley Historical Society. We can show you a photograph of Otis and his father, Edward, inside the grocery store.  We also have a photo of Williams Auto as well as an original copy of the 1922 Business Directory of Grain Valley.