Eugene M Jennings Jr Billy R Kilgore Sr Carol D Roberts Thelma L Gray Ripley FFA off to a busy start this year Ripley River Village Christmas adds new events Man found dead in ditch Rev Alvin B Woodruff Jackson L Russell Lady Broncos bring home 11th SBAAC American Division title in 12 years Lady Rockets wrap up regular season Warriors rally for win Broncos make it two in a row Helen L Whalen Veterans saluted at the Brown County Fair Prints available of Eagle Creek Bridge, by local artist Tommy J Stamper Sue Day Broncos move closer to SBAAC American Division title Lady G-Men working hard, showing improvement Sports complex soon to open in Mt. Orab Week 6 football roundup H Ray Warnock Ripley McDonalds robbed overnight Familiar pizzeria in Ripley has new owners Linda Taylor Rene Sizemore-Dahlheimer Eugene Snider Eric Workman Gregory Terry Edith M Moore Eileen Womacks Michael C Jennings Janice K Brunner Cheer squads compete at ‘Little State Fair’ Truck, tractor pulls draw a crowd at Brown County Fair Week 5 football roundup Lady Broncos rise to 11-6 with win over Batavia Broncos buck Clinton-Massie, Goshen James H Boyd Warren A Stanley Jane R Ernst Darrell F Anderson James W Ball Jr June R Paul Robert Kattine Tony W Ratliff Carroll G Boothby Ripley Council addresses roof replacement and paving projects Beasley Farm to remain agricultural forever Janet R Whitt Jacqualine Attinger L Mae Spencer Battle between Broncos, G-Men ends in tie SB Warriors rout Peebles, 60-0 Lady Jays celebrate first victory Lady Rockets on a roll Rockets cruise to 4-0 Broncos celebrate homecoming Sininger wraps up another outstanding regular season of high school golf Joan E Stevens Esther R Kennedy Myrtle Mays Ripley artist to exhibit her works Ripley Police sponsor ‘Night Out in the Park’ Every BIRDY welcome at fish fry Have breakfast with RULH Superintendent Sept. 21 G-Men win streak hits 5 Runners compete at Vern Hawkins XC Invite Lady G-Men stand at 3-2-2 SHAC play begins for Ripley golfers Week 3 football roundup Jays rise to 5-2 with win over Williamsburg Audrey F Staten Rural Heritage Quilt Show winners RULH Elementary first graders take on new technology 2017 DAR Charity Golf Scramble St. Michael students visit “Living Lands and Waters” RULH High School reaches out to those in need Lillian E Cowdrey Catherine A Houk Warriors win Jim Neu XC Invite Week 2 football roundup Broncos unbeaten at 4-0 Lady Broncos compete in Bob Schul XC Invite Ronnie L Day Nettie F Lightner Buildings demolished, Village waits to be paid Ohio Rural Heritage Festival celebrated Henry E Fields Anleah W Stamper Maxine M Garrett U.S. 68 reopens Drought ends for Lady Rockets G-Men rise to 3-1 with back-to-back victories Rockets cruise to 4-0 win over Jays Lady Broncos start off SBAAC American Division play with 3-2 win over Goshen Week one football roundup Preparation begins for Ripley River Village Christmas celebration 3rd Annual Job Fair sponsored by Open Arms*****Always helps Veterans and others

Straight Creek Essay: Treasures

Yesterday felt like the perfect spring day, even though spring is still weeks away. There was a warm breeze blowing up the creek valley, and a clear blue sky reflected in the creek’s shallow pools.

I should have probably started getting my raised beds ready for planting. I could have sat comfortably down on the rails and pulled loose last summer’s weeds. Or perhaps I should have worked up a sweat and pitched out the accumulated layers of straw from the chicken coop and pigeon gazebo. Or I might have spent the day sorting through the pile of scrap metal down by the barn, saving what we think we might really use again, and piling up the rest in the back of the truck for a trip to the recycling center.

Greg might have worked on the log cabin, or pulled the old jeep back into his shop and crawled under it to do whatever it is that he does that I do really not really understand. All I know is that when he crawls out, he is exceptionally dirty.

Yes, there certainly were a lot of things that we could have done, but we did not do any of them. Not a single one. Instead we called up our city dwelling daughter and asked to borrow our grandchildren for the day and go treasure hunting. I was quite excited.

We drove into town and picked the young’uns up, and as they climbed into the back seat I turned around and handed them each an allowance for the day. Greg and I had the same allowance, and we were off, headed to one of our favorite treasure haunts, just north of the city.

The parking lot was crowded. We hurried into the store, fearful that someone else would find our unknown treasure. Greg and I began to walk up and down the aisles, looking at this treasure and that. The young’uns pulled us ahead. We lingered. They did not, and it quickly occurred to us that these were our treasures, not theirs.

In what seemed like no time, we had covered the vast expanse of row after row of ancient items, and I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised to see that each young’un had found a few special things to take home. At the checkout counter, however, they were quick to realize that they still had pockets filled with coins and dollar bills.

Greg and I asked what they would like to do next. They smiled, but politely remained quiet. I raised my eyebrows and suggested, “How about we stop by the mall?” Their eyes lit up as they exclaimed an enthusiastic “Yes”.

So we were off to the mall on the north side of the city. Greg and I had not been there in years, but it felt more like decades. We followed the young’uns around. They knew exactly what they were looking for, and seemed to know the layout of its shops and escalators by heart. We lingered in a store filled with tee shirts and young peoples’ jewelry. We walked past walls of many colored caps, only to walk past them again, and again. And our grandchildren were filled with obvious energy and delight.

In time their pockets were empty, and in their hands they carried their mall found treasures, a wallet and a necklace.

We headed back to drop them off at their mother’s suburban home. Our hugs were long and thankful, and as Greg and I started the long drive back out to the creek, it occurred to me that the days’ treasures did not lie amid the isles and isles of antiques, or even among the many shops at the mall. The real treasure was the time we shared with our grandchildren, our ever so precious young’uns. I smiled. Life is a wonderful treasure indeed.

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