The Weekly Newspaper serving the citizens of Morenci, Mich., Fayette, Ohio, and surrounding areas.

  • Snow.2
    FIRST SNOW—Heavy, wet flakes piled deep on tree branches—and windshields—as the area received its first significant snowfall of the season. “Usually it begins with a dusting or two,” said George Isobar, Morenci’s observer for the National Weather Service, “but this time it came with a vengeance.” By the end of the day Saturday, a little over four inches of snow was on the ground. Now comes the thaw with temperatures in the 40s and 50s for three days.
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    SKEWERS, gumdrops, and marshmallows are all that’s needed to create interesting shapes and designs for Layla McDowell Saturday at Stair District Library’s “Sculptamania!” Open House. The program featuring design games and materials is one part of a larger project funded by a $7,500 Curiosity Creates grant from Disney and the American Library Association. Additional photos are on page 7.
    Morenci marching band members took to the field Friday night dressed for Halloween during the Bulldog’s first playoff game. Morenci fans had a bit of a scare until the fourth quarter when the Bulldogs scored 30 points to leave Lenawee Christian School behind. Whiteford visits Morenci this Friday for the district championship game. From the left is Clayton Borton, Morgan Merillat and James O’Brien.
    DNA PUZZLE—Mitchell Storrs and Wyatt Mohr tackle a puzzle representing the structure of DNA. There’s only one correct way for all the pieces to fit. It’s one of the new materials that can be used in both biology and chemistry classes, said teacher Loretta Cox.
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    A TRAFFIC control worker stands in the middle of Morenci’s Main Street Tuesday morning, waiting for the next flow of vehicles to be let through from the west. The dusty gravel surface was sealed with a layer of tar, leaving only the application of paint for new striping. The project was completed in conjunction with county road commission work west of Morenci.
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    JUNIORS Jazmin Smith and Trevor Corkle struggle against a team from the sophomore class Friday during the annual tug of war at the Homecoming Games pep rally. Even the seniors struggled against the sophomores who won the competition. At the main course of the day, the Bulldog football team struggled against Whiteford in a homecoming loss.
    YOUNG soccer players surived a chilly morning Saturday in Morenci’s PTO league. From the left is Emma Cordts, Wayne Corser, Carter and Levi Seitz, Briella York and Drew Joughin. Two more weeks of soccer remain for this season.
  • Front.ropes
    BOWEN BAUMGARTNER of Morenci makes his way across a rope bridge constructed by the Tecumseh Boy Scout troop Sunday at Lake Hudson Recreation Area. The bridge was one of many challenges, displays and games set up for the annual Youth Jamboree by the Michigan DNR. Additional photos on are the back page of this week’s Observer.
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    One of four senior candidates will be crowned the fall homecoming queen during half-time of this week’s Morenci-Whiteford football game. In the back row (left to right) is exchange student Kinga Vidor (her escort will be Caylob Alcock), seniors Alli VanBrandt (escorted by Sam Cool), Larissa Elliott (escorted by Clayton Borton), Samantha Wright (escorted by JJ Elarton) and Justis McCowan (escorted by Austin Gilson), and exchange student Rebecca Rosenberger (escorted by Garrett Smith). Front row freshman court member Allie Kaiser (escorted by Anthony Thomas), sophomore Marlee Blaker (escorted by Nate Elarton) and junior Cheyenne Stone (escorted by Dominick Sell).
  • Front.park.lights
    GETTING READY—Jerad Gleckler pounds nails to secure a string of holiday lights on the side of the Wakefield Park concession stand while other members of the Volunteer Club and others hold them in place. The volunteers showed up Sunday afternoon to string lights at the park. The decorating project will continue this Sunday. Denise Walsh is in charge of the effort this year.
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2006.07.26 The end of man

Written by David Green.


“I decline to accept the end of man.”

The new situation in the Middle East had me plenty depressed before I learned last week that Mark Miller, my father’s best friend, had dropped dead, of nebulous causes, leaving behind his wife and teenage daughter.

It was easy enough to hide from the fighting in Israel and Lebanon, to sleep from dusk to dawn, to watch the same movie over and over, to read the same book, to wiggle my toes atop a bed of myopic routine. But the loss of a kind, thoughtful loved one, such as Mark, and so suddenly, was enough to jar me from this, and I had a period of immense feeling.

It was like the terrible things of the world sat at the base of my brain, like feathers and dust—every thought jostled them, they crashed and collided, built momentum off each other, filled my head with the unbearable noise of hurt.

I was in a funk—one causes the other. It happens sometimes.

As my mother and I sliced through Detroit’s downriver suburbs Saturday morning, bound for Grosse Ile and a funeral that was something of an extended family reunion, I found myself silently mouthing the words at the top of this column.

William Faulkner spoke them during his acceptance of the Nobel Prize for literature in 1950. Advising that the Cold War had planted in young people a fear of the end of time, he implored listeners to forget this terror—forcibly—for such a terror leads us to look over the problems of the human heart.

Instead, we should focus on the struggle of man’s soul, of his spirit in turmoil, he said—these are the only issues worth our writing. Dwelling on death—actual, metaphorical, sensational and otherwise—is a sign that death has won, he said. That man is here and that he has made it this long is a sign we have prevailed over death, that we will continue to prevail over it, he said.

But as we sped past the colossal, abandoned steel plant in downtown Trenton, as I nudged with my shoe the kinked carcass of a snake near the bank of the Detroit River, as I stepped into the church and glimpsed the prostrate profile of a man I had always admired, it was hard to believe Mr. Faulkner.

I’m not wise. It has been said that young men should not utter maxims, so I won’t. But I also won’t be untrue and act as if my thoughts and actions are tempered with experience, act as if I don’t feel miserable and passionate and inconsequential and angry and euphoric sometimes.

Sometimes I want to hug everyone. Sometimes I want to scream at the sky. Sometimes I want a bowl of soup.

Last Saturday, in that sanctum, crowded with Mark’s friends—auto workers doubtlessly as worried about their jobs as Mark was, the desperate crew of a foundering vessel, fighting in turbulent tides—I wanted to decline to accept the end of man.

But I don’t even really know what that means.

“It will get better, won’t it?” I asked mom on our way back to Highland.

I don’t remember her reply. I don’t believe I was looking for one.

I went back to Trenton that night to bid my friend Joe, who’s leaving for Thailand, farewell. My friend Dolley was there. My friend Emo was there. My friend Kyle was there.

In the morning, we ate leftover pot stickers and argued about Neil Young.

I drove home, listening to the same episode of A Prairie Home Companion I heard on the way out. At one point, a tire on the car in front of me blew out and I swerved into the next lane to avoid the debris.

Darla the dog was waiting in her cage in mom’s room. After she piddled, we watched “You’ve Got Mail” on TV. I made a salami sandwich and cut it into halves. The smell of salami drives Darla up the wall. She slapped her paws into my thighs as I ate.

Finally, Jamie got home from work and we set off for the theater, where we watched “Clerks II.” We laughed and bumped elbows and stayed until the credits were over.

Afterward, I folded my laundry and left for Morenci. I listened to John Updike talk about his new novel, then listened to a piece about Emily Dickinson’s poem “Because I Could Not Stop for Death, He Kindly Stopped for Me.” I listened to a documentary about the redistribution of land in Africa and India.

I set my laundry on the desk at the top of the stairs. I had a glass of water. I realized I had forgotten my toothpaste in the back seat of my car, but was too tired to fetch it.

I laid myself down and closed my eyes. I wiggled my toes.

   - July 26, 2006


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