Image from page 213 of “Science in story. Sammy Tubbs, the boy doctor, and “Sponsie,” the troublesome monkey” (1874)

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Image from page 213 of “Science in story. Sammy Tubbs, the boy doctor, and “Sponsie,” the troublesome monkey” (1874)
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Identifier: scienceinstorysa00foot
Title: Science in story. Sammy Tubbs, the boy doctor, and "Sponsie," the troublesome monkey
Year: 1874 (1870s)
Authors: Foote, Edward B. (Edward Bliss), 1829-1906
Publisher: New York, Murray Hill Publishing Co.

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CHAPTER X. BAD NEWS—THE RETARDATOR AND ACCELERA-TOR NERVES—A TRAGEDY IN SHIN-BONEALLEY–THE DEATH OF SOME PETS—SAMMYSSORROW—THE DOCTOR DIVERTS HIS MINDWITH INTERESTING CONVERSATION RESPECT-ING OUR NERVOUS TELEGRAPH, AND HOW WELEARN TO USE IT—THE STRANGE RESOLU-TION OF SAMMY. USH! hush! Be quiet!my young readers. I havesome bad news to com-municate ! I hardly knowjust how I should break itto you, for physiologyteaches us that the ner-vous bridle which thebrain puts on the heartbecomes more or less un-manageable when anygreat or sudden emotionof the mind occurs. Thatis, it fails more than ever to be controlled by the

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THE TROUBLESOME MONKEY. 209 will. It is through this involuntary action of therctardator and accelerator nerves belonging to thepncumogastric pair, that life is endangered some-times by the sudden communication of either sor-rowful or over-joyful news. We should be verycareful, therefore, in our intercourse with nervouslysensitive people, not to seriously disturb the har-monious action of those nerves which reach downfrom the brain, and communicate all its emotions°f J°y> grief, horror, surprise, anger, and fear.It is a common peculiarity of the human mind tolike to surprise people with either good or badnews, or to visit them unexpectedly. Look outthat this inclination is not gratified at the expense*of the health and perhaps life of those with whomyou associate. Now, how shall I tell you the distressing newswhich you must know some time unless I cut mynarrative short by abruptly closing this volumewithout an additional word ? I will see if I canlead you along so as to gradually

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Image from page 177 of “McCarver and Tacoma” (1906)
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Identifier: mccarvertacoma00pros
Title: McCarver and Tacoma
Year: 1906 (1900s)
Authors: Prosch, Thomas Wickham, 1850-1915
Subjects: McCarver, Morton Matthew, 1807-1875 Tacoma (Wash.) — History
Publisher: Seattle, Lowman & Hanford
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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60 The Early Carr, Miss Marietta Carr, Frank Spinning, Mrs. Amanda Spin-ning, Lucius V. Starr, James W. King, Thomas Hood, DavidCanfield, James W. Law, William Mahon, William P. Byrd,M. M. McCarver, Mrs. Julia A. McCarver, Miss Virginia Mc-Carver, Miss Elizabeth M. McCarver and Miss Naomi Mc-Carver. On the Puyallup Indian Reservation were C. H.Spinning, the doctor; Thomas Elder, the farmer; A. W. Stew-

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Tacoma Harbar in 1868. Map of Land Claims Tacoma Townsite. art, the carpenter; John Flett, the blacksmith : and WilliamClendenin, the storekeeper. These men all had families. TheClendenin store was a great convenience to the people up thevalley, as well as to those on the harbor. The latter went to itin boats and canoes for their clothing, hardware and groceries.From the country they came with their butter and eggs. Whenhe had accumulated a goodly supply of these products, lie Histcry of Tacoma I 61 would get together his Indian crew, load up his big canoe, androw and sail to Seattle, whore he would exchange his producefor things needed on the shelves of his store. Life on the !>uthai summer was. in its quietude, in strange contrast with thenoise of to-day. Indians could he heard talking a mile away,while the rowing of a boat could easily he heard two miles.( >ne foggy evening tin- steamer Eliza Anderson came in, onher way from Victoria to Olympia. She repeatedly blew herwhistl

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Image from page 19 of “History of the First Light Battery Connecticut Volunteers, 1861-1865. Personal records and reminiscences. The story of the battery from its organization to the present time” (1901)

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Image from page 19 of “History of the First Light Battery Connecticut Volunteers, 1861-1865. Personal records and reminiscences. The story of the battery from its organization to the present time” (1901)
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Identifier: historyoffirstli02beec
Title: History of the First Light Battery Connecticut Volunteers, 1861-1865. Personal records and reminiscences. The story of the battery from its organization to the present time
Year: 1901 (1900s)
Authors: Beecher, Herbert W De Morgan, John, ed
Subjects: United States. Army. Connecticut Artillery Battery, 1st (1861-1865) United States — History Civil War, 1861-1865 Regimental histories
Publisher: New York, A. T. De La Mare Ptg. and Pub. Co., Ltd
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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how Comrade Turner got off the field at James Island;horrible suspicion against a doctor recalled by Comrade Sanford; his experienceafter Secessionville; Comrade Seward tells some incidents about Sod Blatchley;•we went to fight, not to quibble about the value of money; Comrade Durginsloyalty; curious punishments; amusing guard duty incidents; Comrade Blodgettfiring a salute; how he landed in Florida; Comrade Doolittles narrow escape atProctors Creek; Comrade Sloan compares the mortality in camp with Spanish-American camps; Comrade Huntington talks about Comrade Lewis Sykes; getoff that horse; a Four Mile Creek incident; Comrade Savory and his horseDeacon; a thrilling episode; how Generals Crook and Kelly were captured bythe Confederate Rangers; the clergyman and the captain; a clever way to obtainwhisky; copy of Comrade Wakeleys discharge papers; Major Sewards experiencein Honolulu; how Comrade Beecher was wounded; a strange sermon; a seces-sionist clergymans bad break; epilogue 841

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Memorial Monument Frontispiece Presenting Flag to Batterys successor …. Frontispiece PAGE General Foster and Staff at Deep Bottom 456a Line of Defense, Bermuda Hundred 460 Trading for Coffee Between the Lines 470 On Picket 474 Army of Potomac Crossing the James . 480 A Wagoners Shanty 491 Pontoon Over James River at Deep Bottom . 497 Troops in Position at Bermuda Front 502 Anticipating an Attack on General Fosters Force at Deep Bottom—following page . 504 Picket Camp 505 Bomb Proof 508 Officers Quarters, Deep Bottom 510 Rifle Pits, Deep Bottom 514 Beefsteak Rare . 516 Newspapers in Camp 520 Washing Day 52& Shooting a Deserter 534 Centre Section and One Piece of Right Section in Redoubt, Deep Bottom—following page 536 City Point, Va 537 First Connecticut Light Battery in Camp at Deep Bottom—following page 552 Posting Guard in the Rain 554 Gopher-Hole Bomb Proof 557 In Petersburg Trenches 560 Remains of Unburied Soldiers 565 Section of Fort Stedman 568 Confederates Laid Out

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Image from page 367 of “Tri-State medical journal” (1895)
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Identifier: tristatemedicalj2189ball
Title: Tri-State medical journal
Year: 1895 (1890s)
Authors: Ball, James Moores, 1863-1929
Subjects: Tri-State Medical Society Medicine
Publisher: St. Louis : [s.n.]
Contributing Library: The College of Physicians of Philadelphia Historical Medical Library
Digitizing Sponsor: The College of Physicians of Philadelphia and the National Endowment for the Humanities

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open Grace Hospital for the inspection of regular physicians. All of these institutions can be visited with pleasure and profit. It cer-tainly speaks well for Detroit that she possesses so many hospitals andhomes. Of course, we must take into consideration the fact that Detroit isthe metropolis of the great State of Michigan. 358 In The Professional Eye. Should any of the visiting doctors find themselves in the anomalousposition of the man who sang: For I am a stranger and a long way fromhome, the Home for the Friendless will doubtless open its doors of mercy and give shelter to the wanderer. The medical schools of De-troit are two in number. TheDetroit Medical College and TheMichigan College of Medicineand Surgery. The professioncan well be proud of both. Detroit has always been fortu -nate in possessing a progressive,intelligent and refined profes-sion. In years past it has hap-pened frequently that her eminentphysicians and surgeons havebeen called to professorships inother cities.

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Image taken from page 201 of ‘Doctor Nikola, etc’
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Title: "Doctor Nikola, etc"
Author: BOOTHBY, Guy Newell.
Contributor: WOOD, Stanley Llewellyn.
Shelfmark: "British Library HMNTS 012626.e.24."
Page: 201
Place of Publishing: London
Date of Publishing: 1896
Publisher: Ward, Lock & Co.
Issuance: monographic
Identifier: 000413669

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Image from page 146 of “Science in story. Sammy Tubbs, the young boy physician, and “Sponsie,” the bothersome monkey” (1874).

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Image from page 146 of “Science in story. Sammy Tubbs, the young boy physician, and “Sponsie,” the troublesome monkey” (1874)
doctor strange
< img alt=" physician strange" src="" width=" 400"/ > Image by< a href=""
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” Sponsie,” the bothersome monkey Year:
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1829-1906 Subjects:
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> Book Audience About This Book: < a href ="" rel=" nofollow" > Catalog Entry View All Images: All Images From Book Click here to< a href="" rel=" nofollow" > view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online variation of this book. Text Appearing Prior to Image: funny. However possibly through fear of de-tection

by the sounds of their voices if they shouldspeak, or since they were too shy to state THE PROBLEMATIC MONKEY. 141 anything, the place had actually been almost as quiet as aQuaker-meeting, excepting from time to time a rustlingof dresses brought on by the motion of the feet, orthe bowing of heads, as extra ones, singly orin couples, went into the space, or once again as sometimid fingers would touchthe keys of the piano. Mrs. Biddlewicker nowthought it quite time that/Jjeverybody was on themove, and to provide moreanimation to the strange-looking individuals sittingaround in such silence, she put a professionalplayer at the piano, andby his side a harpist, vio-linist, and a professional onthe cornet. Had the THE ARTISTS. young people been unmasked they could hardly haveresisted the anticipated impact. But their ears werenearly or quite-covered by the paper-masks, whichprevented the stirring stimulus from reaching withfull force the 3 thousand nerve filaments with Text Appearing After Image: 142 THE KID DOCTOR AND which each auditory nerve is provided for gather-ing up sounds and bring them to the brain.Even if orifices had actually been made through the masksopposite the open locations in the ears, the hearingwould not have been ideal, for all the littlecurves and ridges in the outer ear assist us inhearing. They present surfaces in almost everydirection for gathering noises and conveyingthem to the filaments of the auditory nerve. Themusical instruments did their part, and set inmotion by the vibrations of strings and the breath-currents through the cornet, such waves of air ascould not have cannot reach the harps whichthe nerves have formed by their numerous fibresin the inner cavity of the ear, if the peculiarinstruments which Nature has supplied for gather-ing up those climatic waves had not in thisinstance been covered up. The fingers of thepianist bounded over the key-board; the harpistmoved his head in addition to his hands as his nimblefingers leaped from string t Note About Images Please keep in mind that these images are drawn out from scanned page images that may have been digitally boosted for readability -pigmentation and appearance of these illustrations might not perfectly look like the initial
work. Shuma-Gorath now has an area beside Dormeowmu and Physician Strange … #mrvlcats// cc @apelad< img alt=" physician weird "src =" "width= "400"/ > Image by< a href="" > Erik Mallinson Posted from Twitter

Do you know the story of Isaac and Rebecca? You marital relationship can occur likewise as excellent as theirs if just you can completely trust God!

luke skywalker
by ChrisM70 Isaac and RebeccaThe Bible records no quarrels

in between these 2. They lived happily ever afterwards, and Rebecca became the honored”mother of millions.”The Lord Jesus tells us that Isaac will be in the Kingdom of paradise and we will see him there (Luke 13:28 ), and Rebecca, too. Their home resembled a paradise on earth in which to go to heaven. The Lord wants to give you such a happy home. Will you let Him do so? The you will be patient and will have to believe His word, and trust Him to direct you. If I understand anything about how the devil works, he will probably pertain to you about now, and say, “You cannot rely on the Lord to assist you! He does not care enough about you to pay attention to your prayers, and lead you to the right male or female to wed! Undoubtedly you do not think the Lord in paradise will do for you what He provided for Isaac?”If you think the Lord and seek His assistance as to whom to marry

, will He leave you to get muddled up and slip up? Never! Not if you take notice of the divinely inspired concepts, and are patient. Before you get wed, move forward slowly, on your knees as it were. If you ask the Lord for bread do you think He will offer you a stone( see matthew 7:9 -11)? And always remember- after you are wed, the devil will still come one day and state,”You made a dreadful mistake, didn’t you?”You might see some fault or weakness in your partner that will tempt you to believe the Lord provided you a stone instead of bread; not you need to trust Him and hold on by faith. The time will come when you will applaud Him ever later for the good gift He gave you! When the Lord leads you He does not anticipate you to end up being a blind robotic.

He guides you like a smart moms and dad”leads” a smart child-not by doing his believing for him and requiring him versus his own will, however by helping the kid to know for himself what holds true and appropriate for him. The Lord expects you to take your time, discover to know the other private, and comprehend him/her so that you can exercise your very own intelligent judgment and choice. The point of Isaac’s story is that human wisdom and judgment alone are not

sufficient to make the best choice in marriage.”Falling in Love “with somebody can be dangerous, for often it is simple infatuation. Zac poonen has sensibly stated that although “Love is blind, “marital relationship quickly ends up being an”eye-opener.”Seeking the Lord’s assistance as Isaac did supplies the” eye-opener “before you become engaged and married. It is the sure path to joy in marital relationship. I am Funom Theophilus Makama. A medical trainee, an affiliate online marketer and a professional writer.

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The 2004 Utica Twister Story – Part 3 of 3

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The 2004 Utica Tornado Story – Part 3 of 3
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(photo: Rustie views new construction for a memorial at the site of the Milestone Tap)

Utica Tornado of April 20, 2004
Story by Julia Keller
First printed December 5, 6, and7 in the Chicago Tribune.

Part 3:
After the storm’s fury

Left in tatters by a tornado, a small town remembers, rebuilds and begins to recover

By Julia Keller
Tribune staff reporter
Published December 7, 2004

They picked at the pile, inch by inch, stone by stone, just in case. They thought they’d gotten to everyone who was alive, but you had to be sure. You had to. Buckets of debris were passed from hand to hand along chains of firefighters. It began to rain, but nobody noticed.

Earlier that evening–at 6:09 p.m. April 20–a tornado had barreled through the town of Utica in north-central Illinois and, with a tornado’s savage whim, had shunned a building here but shredded one over there. Hitting and missing and hitting.

Milestone. That was where the firefighters now were gathered, hundreds of firefighters from 52 units throughout the state. The 117-year-old tavern near the corner of Church and Mill Streets had taken a direct hit and collapsed into a ponderous heap of wood, stone and concrete, trapping 17 people who had sought shelter within its thick walls.

Nine had been rescued earlier that night: Jim Ventrice, Rich Little, Jarad Stillwell, and Mike and Debbie Miller and their children Ashley, Jennifer, Gregg and Chris.

The eight others still down there, firefighters believed, were dead. But they had to be sure.

So they kept working, systematically removing buckets full of rubble, pushing back thoughts of anything except the task at hand: dig, fill the bucket, pass the bucket, dig.

The whole place was lighted like a movie set. The lights cast an eerie glow on the firefighters in their heavy gear and their hardhats, their steel-toed boots and leather gloves. The lights splashed up on their solemn faces, which looked steep and angular in the artificial glare. All of that illumination made it seem as if a strange new sun had been unearthed, a mixed-up one that didn’t know night from day.

At about 1:30 a.m., when the listening devices that were dropped down into crevices continued to fetch only silence, they knew the rescue part of their job was over. Now it was a different mission: recovering the bodies.

Buck Bierbom’s skid loader was waved forward to handle the larger chunks of debris, but they had to be careful, so careful. When firefighters edged close to a body, the heavy equipment backed off and the painstaking labor by hand recommenced, the tender, awful job of verifying what they already knew.

Bierbom was a local boy, Utica-born and Utica-raised, a slender, wiry man with a creased, weathered, beard-fringed face and the kindest eyes you’d ever hope to see. He and his brothers, Mark and Doug, had run their own construction company for 12 years. Utica Police Chief Joseph Bernardoni had called him at 6:30 p.m., 21 minutes after the tornado leveled Milestone, and asked him to get there with his skid loader and mini-excavator just as quick as he could.

So tonight Bierbom was unearthing the bodies of people he’d known all his life. People he’d grown up with. People he’d waved to on the street maybe twice, maybe three times a day for a whole bunch of years.

Shortly before dawn, when all the bodies had been located, a chain saw cut away sections of Milestone’s floor. Bierbom’s big machine removed the sections. Then Jody Bernard, the somber, petite LaSalle County coroner, or one of her three deputy coroners, would climb down, examine the body and pronounce the death.

Each body was placed in a blue bag, then the blue bag was lifted out of the hole.

At 6:59 a.m., they lifted out Jay Vezain.

At 7:04 a.m., Carol Schultheis.

At 11:12 a.m., Mike Miller Jr.

At 11:15 a.m., Larry Ventrice.

At 11:17 a.m., Beverly Wood.

At 11:22 a.m., Marian Ventrice.

At 11:25 a.m., Wayne Ball.

At 11:28 a.m., Helen Studebaker Mahnke.

All but Vezain and Schultheis died of traumatic asphyxiation, which means they were crushed to death, probably in the first instant of the collapse, when the walls and floors began to pancake down into the basement. Vezain and Schultheis, who never made it into the basement, died of blunt force trauma.

But those official-sounding causes of death, announced by Bernard at the coroner’s inquest May 27 at the LaSalle County Courthouse, hardly hint at what actually happens to human bodies when crushed by a two-story building: the brutality, the blunt and unimaginable violence of hundreds of tons of stone and wood and concrete collapsing upon fragile frames and soft flesh. There were shattered bones and severed arteries and fractured skulls and lacerated organs and one transection of the brain stem–decapitation.

The ones who survived did so because they chanced to be standing in just the right places. The walk-in cooler and the two freezers blocked a portion of the plummeting debris, creating instant, lifesaving lean-tos.

There had been, survivors said, simply no time. No time for final thoughts or last-minute regrets, for so much as a cry of pain or yelp of warning. There was only time, if one is inclined to think that way, for the freeing of eight souls to continue their journeys elsewhere.

– – – – –

They lived or they died. Among the living, the most serious injuries were the broken ankles suffered by Mike Miller and daughter Ashley, but no one was paralyzed or maimed, which meant there was no middle ground for the people in Milestone. It was life or death.

Whether you ended up on one side of that line or the other depended on whether you went down those basement stairs and what you did when you got there.

Whether you turned left or right. Whether you paused or didn’t pause. Whether, when everybody was hustling down the stairs, you waited to let an older person pass or a kid go ahead of you, or whether you didn’t wait, or whether you moved to the center of the basement or stayed against the sides. Left, right, forward, backward, life, death.

Schultheis’ body was found beneath the video poker machine. Vezain had used his cell phone to call his sisters, making sure they were safe in the storm, and in the last call–suddenly cut off–he talked about trying to close the door, so maybe that’s what he was doing, which would have been characteristic of the amiable, thoughtful Vezain, and then there was no more time, time itself was extinguished, and eight histories ended abruptly in a sandstone tavern at dusk.

The funerals began two days later, when Vezain was remembered at a service in LaSalle, and continued for a week after the tornado, in locations that widened out from Utica in concentric rings: Wood, Ball and Schultheis, also in LaSalle; Mahnke in West Brooklyn; Miller in Rock Falls; the Ventrices in Chicago.

They started on a hill about a half-mile northeast of Utica, where the tornado had worn itself out, and worked their way back, back to where it began, some 15 1/2 miles southwest of that hill.

It was approximately 10 a.m. on April 21, and Albert Pietrycha, Mark Ratzer and Jim Allsopp, meteorologists assigned to the National Weather Service’s Chicago forecast office in Romeoville, were doing what they always do after a major storm: surveying the damage, beginning at the end and ending at the beginning. They’d map it on the ground first and then, the next day, by air.

Armed with laptops and GPS tracking software, the men in the Ford Explorer crossed country roads and state highways, cut through farm fields and spongy riverbank, using thrashed trees and flattened vegetation and ripped-off roofs to track the tornado’s path. Out in the open ground they found its vivid footprint in the black mud, a herringbone pattern that testified to the violent, switchback winds.

Recording the damage in its wake is how meteorologists rank a tornado’s severity. The F scale, named for University of Chicago meteorologist Ted Fujita, is based on the havoc wrought by tornadic winds–not on an actual measurement of those winds. The Utica tornado was deemed an F3, meaning that, based on the destruction the meteorologists observed, it probably had packed winds of between 158 and 206 m.p.h.

Despite all that is known, however, despite all the charts and statistics and technology, tornado forecasting still has a long way to go. Since the 1950s, which saw the first major advance in atmospheric science, little has changed. Tornado forecasting still is filled with ambiguity and uncertainty, with the locked-up secrets of nature’s worst tantrums.

It’s a mystery why some thunderstorms turn into the supercell variety, whose organized rotating updrafts explode into tornadoes. The questions keep scientists such as Pietrycha, who’s worked at the weather service for two years, relentlessly searching a tornado’s dark heart.

And there is a point, Pietrycha knows, where the scientific facts abruptly stop, a stark cliff-edge where something else takes over, some inscrutable plan or perhaps just cruel caprice. Destiny–or dumb luck. Who can say which?

That was why, as Pietrycha and his colleagues followed the tornado’s crooked trail that morning, they were all struck by a thought they couldn’t seem to get out of their heads:

If the 200-yard-wide funnel had moved just a bit to either side during its furious charge, leaning a half-mile left or right, it would have missed Utica altogether. It would have churned up only farmland, and Milestone still would be standing.

And the regulars, people such as Jay Vezain and Carol Schultheis, would have had quite a story to tell, the story about the tornado that nearly hit Utica. Talk about your close calls.

Why the tornado dived straight at Milestone, why it demolished some houses and ignored others, why it turned when it did and didn’t turn when it didn’t–those were questions the meteorologists couldn’t answer.

And neither, come to think of it, could anybody else.

– – – – –

Mike Miller and his family had been trapped in the Milestone rubble for almost five hours. They were rescued, but sometimes you can be rescued and still be trapped.

Two months after the tornado, Miller sat on the postage-stamp of a front porch of his house in Utica and smoked Marlboros, one after another, through the long summer afternoons. He looked out at the green field across the street. Beyond the field and the tangled mass of trees was the Illinois River. Even if you couldn’t see the river you knew it was there; the river’s scent rode the breeze, just the faintest tang of moisture and sweet coolness and the tantalizing hint of elsewhere.

His ankle was on the mend. He’d spent a week in the hospital and two weeks in a rehabilitation center. Now he was home, in the small blue rented house on Washington Street.

Miller’s skinny legs were propped up on the porch rail. The cast and bulky protective boot on his left foot was the only suggestion of heaviness about him. He was as thin as a matchstick, which tended to make his thick nest of hair–not quite gray but getting there–look even wilder. He had a bountiful mustache and flyaway eyebrows and round spectacles. There was a quietness about Mike Miller, a kind of baffled resignation.

The Miller family had to find someplace else to live. The landlord had evicted them in May–too many complaints about the kids from neighbors, they were told. Granted, Mike and Debbie hadn’t been around the house a lot to keep an eye on things; he was an engineer with Illinois Central Railroad, she was a cook at Milestone.

Now both were home all the time, because Mike was on disability leave and there was no more Milestone. But it was too late. Now the Millers wanted to be rid of Utica just as much as Utica seemed to want to be rid of them.

They hoped to find a place in nearby LaSalle, so they could stay in the same area as their three oldest children, Kassi, 24, Brandon, 23, and Michelle, 19, who hadn’t been with them in Milestone.

Their next-oldest child, 18-year-old Mike Jr., had died when the tavern collapsed.

It was bewildering sometimes, Mike thought, all that had happened to his family that night. "The Good Lord put us through four-and-a-half hours of hell," was how he phrased it, thinking back on the long rescue and the pain.

And there were times when he wondered, as he sat on the porch with his crutches stacked beside him, if they’d ever really gotten out of that place, ever really broken the surface. There were times when he felt as if things were piled on top of him still, things that made it tough to move forward.

Tear it down. That’s what they told him.

And Lisle Elsbury said, Nope.

But you could see their point. Duffy’s Tavern had long ragged holes on both sides of its second floor, the bricks ripped out as savagely as if someone had been digging for treasure hidden behind them. When the tornado hit, it tore off sections of the grain bins of Utica Elevator just across the canal, turning them into missiles. Two of those sections sliced into Duffy’s.

A week after the storm, Elsbury was standing in the middle of Mill Street, peering intently at the building in which he’d stuffed his hopes and his cash. Contractors hired to help him repair it were snapping together the scaffolding to reach the second floor. Elsbury wore sunglasses, a hardhat, black jeans and a bright green T-shirt with "Duffy’s Tavern" in yellow letters.

Built in 1892, easily Utica’s most distinctive-looking structure, Duffy’s sported a tower that flared out over the corner of Mill and Canal Streets with a Disneyesque flourish. That was why Elsbury and his wife, Pat, had bought it the year before. They loved the look of the place.

What it looked like now was a lost cause.

Elsbury had worked in construction in Lyons before buying Duffy’s, so he knew the repairs would cost at least 0,000, only part of which would be reimbursed by insurance; already, he was deep in arguments with the agent.

And there was something else.

When you looked at Duffy’s, you couldn’t help but think about Milestone. They had been a block away from each other. Elsbury and Larry Ventrice, Milestone’s brusque manager, had rhyming lives: Both had done other things before deciding, in their middle years, to run a bar in Utica. Both had wives who kept their jobs and lived in other cities so the family could have health insurance.

Marian Ventrice had quit her job just two months before, to join her husband at Milestone.

Pat Elsbury, who worked as a secretary for an oil-recycling company in La Grange, had been contemplating the same kind of bold stroke: Just do it. Forget what everybody says is the smart move. Follow your heart. Lisle was remodeling the second floor, turning it into an apartment–just like Larry and Marian had done at Milestone–and they’d be living and working together. Just like Milestone.

And then came April 20, when Milestone collapsed and killed the Ventrices and six others. Pat and Lisle Elsbury were haunted by the crazy capriciousness of it all: Two bars. Two couples. One tornado. Two fates.

Why did Milestone fall and Duffy’s stand? Pat Elsbury tried to stop thinking about it, but she couldn’t. When she drove to Utica, she kept running into the questions as if they were police roadblocks: Why Milestone and not Duffy’s? Why had the tornado veered left just before it hit Duffy’s, dealing it only a glancing blow, but pounced on Milestone as if on a mission?

Why was Lisle Elsbury alive and Larry Ventrice dead?

Pat, a pretty, talkative woman with strawberry blond hair and a quick laugh, soon realized that the only way to outfox her thoughts was to do what Lisle did: stay busy.

So while her husband kept an eye on the crew that was restoring Duffy’s, rebuilding the brick sides and shoring up the roof, Pat was there every Saturday and Sunday. When Duffy’s reopened after three weeks, Pat would wait tables and grapple with paperwork, unpack supplies and sweep floors. Anything to keep her mind away from that relentless and quietly terrifying, "Why?"

Jim Ventrice had gone to Milestone every day, for lunch or dinner or both. Now that it was gone, he had to get his meals and his companionship somewhere else.

Through the summer you’d see him at Skoog’s Pub, maybe, sipping a Miller Genuine Draft, his favorite, or over at Duffy’s, having a burger, or sometimes at Joy & Ed’s.

Ventrice and Rich Little were the first two people rescued from Milestone’s basement. While the others down there died or were forced to wait hours before being pulled out, Ventrice and Little had escaped right away. Within minutes. The building fell in all around them, but except for a few bruises and cracked ribs, both were fine.

When he’d gone down to the basement that night, Ventrice turned right at the bottom of the stairs. He stood beside Little, a stranger, over by a couple of freezers.

He didn’t know why. If Little hadn’t been there, Jim Ventrice believed, then he would’ve gone over next to his cousin Larry Ventrice or Larry’s wife, Marian, Milestone’s managers, and he would’ve absorbed the full weight of the falling slabs–the concrete roof, the second floor, the first floor–just as they had.

A week later, Jim Ventrice called Little.

"Were you in the tornado?"


"I was the guy beside you."

"Well," Little said, "that freezer saved us."

Wasn’t much more to it than that. Wasn’t much more to say. They didn’t talk philosophy or religion or predestination. The freezer had blocked the falling debris, sparing them. It was the freezer, plain and simple. Wasn’t it?

Ventrice had plenty of time that summer to sort it all out. He’d walk along Mill Street, hands in his pockets, and think. He’d just about settled things in his mind: You had to live with the fact that for a lot of questions, there aren’t any answers. Good people die. And God doesn’t have to explain himself. It’s his call.

Rich Little had moved in with Kristy Kaiser, the woman he’d been supposed to meet in Milestone. The single parents blended their families, his three kids and her three.

A month after the tornado, he bought a Harley, his longtime dream. On solitary rides he thought about that night, about how he’d been sure it would change him in some fundamental way, but it really hadn’t. He was the same guy. Wasn’t he?

– – – – –

Debbie Miller was writing down recipes. It was the best way she could think of to remember Milestone, a job she loved, the first outside job she’d held after 18 years. Fried chicken, burgers, spaghetti, hot wings–garlic was the secret ingredient in the wings–and steaks, all the recipes she and her boss, Larry Ventrice, had concocted together. They’d never put them on paper, because Debbie caught on quickly and repetition did the rest, and even Marian took to calling the back room of Milestone "Debbie’s kitchen."

Debbie had lost so much–her son, her job, her best friends, Larry and Marian–and she wanted to hang on to what she could.

While Mike Miller sat on the porch the first two months after the tornado, feet propped on the rail, Debbie often stayed inside the small house, smoking cigarettes until the rooms were hung with a yellow-gray glaze. Blond bangs hung between Debbie’s eyes and the world; straight blond hair fell down her back. The big-screen TV that dominated the living room always seemed to be on, and the Miller kids and a few of their friends and Debbie sat on couches and watched. With the curtains closed you couldn’t always tell if it was day or night, unless you already knew.

But the Millers had to find a new place to live, so on an afternoon in late June, Mike, Debbie, Gregg and Chris piled into the car–they’d gotten a teal Ford Taurus to replace the LTD damaged in the tornado–and drove to LaSalle. They had called a couple of newspaper ads for rental houses.

The first one was bright blue with a wide front porch. The moment the car stopped at the curb, Chris and Gregg tumbled out and rushed over and mashed their noses against the windows to see inside: "Cool!" "Wow!"

Mike hobbled to the picture window, cupping his palms over his eyes to peer in. "Nice big living room," he said.

But Debbie didn’t like it. She looked around, then folded her arms across her chest.

"It needs a lot of cleaning," she said.

A quick, hopeful response from 8-year-old Chris: "I can dust!"

They moved on, though, and reviewed a few more houses that day, a few more the next. On July 1, a week before they had to be out of the Washington Street house, they signed a lease for a good-sized stone house on a corner lot in LaSalle. By July 5, they’d left Utica.

Debbie still drove back there once a week or so for an informal support group of Milestone survivors and families that met evenings at Joy & Ed’s. Jim Ventrice sometimes showed up too.

They didn’t talk much about what happened that night. They talked about their lives, about their struggles, about how hard it still was to drive past the corner of Mill and Church Streets, where Milestone had stood, and where the city had put up a makeshift memorial. There were, affixed to white-painted concrete barriers, pictures of the victims and pictures of Utica from long ago.

Rising from the thin layer of gravel spread over the site was a row of white crosses, each inscribed with a name: Jay Vezain. Helen Mahnke. Bev Wood. Wayne Ball. Carol Schultheis. Marian Ventrice. Michael Miller. Lawrence Ventrice.

Shelba Bimm was leaving Utica. She wasn’t going far, just to a subdivision on a hill west of town, a pretty little neighborhood of gently curving streets and polished-looking homes with wide driveways.

Bimm had loved living right in the middle of Utica. But she and her neighbors with homes crushed by the tornado faced a tangle of complications. Utica was on a flood plain, and if you rebuilt, you were required to start with an expensively high foundation. Also, state officials long had planned to redo Illinois Highway 178 to divert its noisy truck traffic, and when they did, many of the homes on Church Street would have to go.

At first, Bimm had been determined to rebuild right on the same spot. This was home. Long divorced, this was where she’d raised her two sons, Shayne and Blayne, by herself. But there was just too much up in the air. Bimm wanted to move on, to get going. She didn’t like to stand still. So she bought the lot and began planning her new house.

It would be white with cranberry shutters, just like the old one. On June 21, Buck Bierbom dug the foundation, using the same equipment he’d used to help clear tons of rubble from the Milestone site.

– – – – –

Pat Elsbury had finally had enough. Enough of the dilemmas. Enough of the back-and-forth–both the highway kind and the philosophical kind.

In mid-July she gave her notice in La Grange. Her last day on the job, a job she’d had for 13 years, was July 30. She cleaned out her desk, packed her pickup and drove straight to Duffy’s, where by early evening she was drinking a Miller Lite at the bar, and talking and laughing. "This is what I want to do," she said. "This is where I want to be. I don’t want to be back there anymore." Simple, declarative statements.

What wasn’t so simple, though, was making up for the money Duffy’s had lost. It was only closed for three weeks after the tornado, but the tourists who normally thronged into Utica on summer days on their way to Starved Rock were taking other routes. They’d heard about the disaster and, according to what Lisle Elsbury was picking up here and there, they figured Utica was still in disarray. That exasperated him, but what could he do?

One Sunday afternoon in August, he was sitting in the back room of Duffy’s, looking grim and discouraged. There were smudges on his forearms; he’d been struggling to fix an exhaust fan in the basement. But what really irritated Lisle was his insurance company, with whom he’d been tangling all week about repairs to the front of the tavern. The threshold was crucial, Lisle believed. The three-sided glass entrance with neat wooden trim was Duffy’s signature. You just couldn’t do it on the cheap. It had to be done right.

He wasn’t going to compromise. He and Pat had sold their house, had sunk every nickel they had into this place, had staked their future on the corner of Mill and Canal Streets. No way would he short-change it all now because some guy in a button-down shirt with a clipboard didn’t get it, didn’t understand why the entrance had to be special. No way. He was a fighter, Lisle Elsbury was, and he hadn’t survived a tornado just to capitulate to some insurance company.

Lisle was bothered, too, by something Pat had mentioned: When she told her boss back in La Grange goodbye for the last time, he’d given her a look. The look, she said, could have meant only one thing: You’re not going to make it.

– – – – –

Pat had shrugged it off. Come and see us in a year, she wanted to shout at him. Come back and see us then.

Mike Miller returned to work part time for the railroad Nov. 9, running a locomotive. He walked with a limp and probably always would, his doctors told him. He didn’t mind. "As long as I don’t fall flat on my face," Mike told Debbie, "I don’t care."

The Miller kids started school in LaSalle, and Mike and Debbie’s biggest concern was Chris; at the threat of a storm, the merest hint of one, the quiet little boy was terrified. They alerted his teachers: If a storm came, they’d need to hold him, to tell him things would be OK.

Debbie Miller put in job applications to cook at several restaurants. No luck yet, but she was hopeful. She didn’t spend her afternoons in a dark room anymore.

They still had money problems, though, and wondered how they were going to cover Christmas gifts for the kids. And they still hadn’t been able to afford a headstone for Mike Jr.’s grave in Sterling, 47 miles northwest of Utica.

On Aug. 16, at about 5:30 a.m., Mike and Debbie’s daughter Michelle had given birth to 5-pound, 10-ounce Melodie Marie. Debbie stayed all night at the hospital, and when she returned home mid-morning, exhausted but joyful, there was a lightness in her face that hadn’t been there in a while. Her smile was tentative–she still wasn’t sure about the world, after what it had taken from her–but the smile came more easily now, lingered longer. The haunted quality in her eyes had receded a bit.

Yet even as she sat on the couch that morning and talked about Melodie Marie, photos spread out on the coffee table, Debbie had to know that just above her head, high on the wall in the Millers’ living room, was a picture of Mike Jr.

He was facing the camera, and the tall, skinny young man with the glasses and straight blondish-brown hair wore his mother’s smile: shy, cautious, not quite sure he can trust the world, not really certain it has his best interests at heart.

By the end of November, Bimm’s new house was coming along nicely. The walls were up, and so was the crisp white siding, the gray roof.

She loved to stop by and watch her contractor, Tom Trump, and his crew do their work. And she had a little more time on her hands these days; she and Dave Edgcomb had been notified Sept. 17 that they’d passed the test to be certified as EMT Intermediates, so there were no more classes.

The flat crash of hammering, the piney astringent smell of new wood: Bimm liked to walk around the job site and plan what she was going to put where. She hoped to move in by Christmas. She’d been living in a small trailer that her sons bought for her the day after the tornado, setting it up on Blayne’s property.

Some afternoons Bimm would drive out to the site of her new house and just stand in the yard, taking it all in, while the wind fingered its way through the trees.

If you glanced up at the sky, the blue seemed to go on forever–up and up, straight through the roof of the world–and to spread seamlessly from horizon to horizon. So blue, so calm, so beautiful. You would almost swear nothing bad could ever come from such a sky.



To report this story, Tribune reporter Julia Keller interviewed the nine survivors of the Milestone collapse, and their friends, family members, neighbors and colleagues; and the friends, family members, neighbors and colleagues of the victims of the Milestone collapse; over a seven-month period, beginning a week after the tornado.

She also interviewed townspeople of Utica, Ill.; public officials, including employees and elected officials of Utica and the Federal Emergency Management Agency; meteorologists at the National Weather Service’s Chicago office; tornado experts such as Howard Bluestein of the University of Oklahoma; public safety officials, including Utica Fire Chief Dave Edgcomb, Utica Police Chief Joseph Bernardoni, LaSalle County Sheriff Tom Templeton and LaSalle County Coroner Jody Bernard.

The reporter also used newspaper and television accounts of the tornado, and consulted historical books about Utica and the surrounding countryside.

Passages describing downtown Utica before and after the tornado were based on first-hand observations by the reporter, and on the observations of townspeople who were interviewed. Descriptions of the interior of Milestone the night of the tornado were based on the recollections of survivors and on the recollections of other townspeople who frequented the bar. Descriptions of the exterior were based on photographs and the accounts of Utica citizens.

Passages describing the rescue at Milestone were based on eyewitness accounts obtained from multiple interviews with firefighters, police officers, EMTs and volunteer citizen rescuers at the scene that night, along with the recollections of survivors and townspeople present shortly after the tavern collapsed.

Scenes of the Miller family’s life after being rescued from Milestone–in their Utica home; sitting on the porch with Mike Miller; searching for a new home; the morning their granddaughter was born–were witnessed by the reporter. Scenes of Pat and Lisle Elsbury’s life after the tornado were compiled through first-hand observation by the reporter and through interviews; thoughts and emotions attributed to the Elsburys were derived from multiple interviews with the couple.

Passages dealing with Shelba Bimm, Edgcomb, Steve Maltas, Gloria Maltas, Rona Burrows and other townspeople were based on interviews and observations by the reporter.

Scenes that were not witnessed by the reporter were assembled through multiple interviews with people who were present, both named in the story and not named. When thoughts and emotions are presented, those thoughts and emotions come directly from the reporter’s interviews. Descriptions of the activities and thoughts of people who died in the collapse were compiled through interviews with those who were present, or those to whom the deceased had confided their thoughts and emotions.


Julia Keller won the 2005 Pulitzer Prize in feature writing for this story on the Utica tornado

20110405 – raccoon #6 – 0 of damage, promptly escaped – IMG_2918
doctor strange
Image by Rev. Xanatos Satanicos Bombasticos (ClintJCL)
This guy escaped within 2 minutes of this picture being taken, due to Carolyn setting the trap up wrong AND clipping the wrong part of the trap closed. These traps are only so good. Unfortunately, the rear "door" (left in this picture) can be escaped from if you push hard enough to bend metal, which raccoons do. Carolyn clipped it (not part of the original cage) on the top-left instead of the bottom-middle. It is metaphorically like trying to keep a door from opening by tying a rope around the hinges — it just makes no sense. 🙂 (Admittedly though, someone not experienced with the trap would probably make the same mistake. But we’ve been using this trap for years.)

But then Carolyn noticed that she hadn’t set the trap correctly either. (Setting/baiting the traps is her job, dealing with the wild animal and repair contractors is my job, and I’d gladly trade.)

Lessons learned for next time! If I set the cage outside, I’ll set it with the rear facing a wall, so it can’t be opened. Maybe put it between a rock and a hard place so there’s now way out. And the rear "door" (kind of a design flaw, really) is now clipped correctly. And Carolyn has already re-deployed it, correctly set up.

Anyway, it was NOT a fun 30 minute ordeal at 6:30AM while both of us were sleeping. especially since it resulted in nothing other than the acknowledgement that we just failed to capture yet another raccoon that did yet another 0 of damage to our house. If anyone wants to pay for my house repairs, you can have my raccoons. Otherwise, I’m going to figure out how to most easily kill them, because they home up to 5 miles and come back and continue to damage your property.

This fucker ripped off the opposing soffit to our addition; when this happened last time, it cost 0 to repair.

My largest hunting knife was right there, open-bladed, laying in the attic, a foot from this varmint. I had an opportunity to plunge its blade into this fucker’s brain, but no, I didn’t take it. (Actually, it wouldn’t be possible to stab through a cage….)

Seriously, though — how does one swiftly kill a raccoon in a cage so that it doesn’t suffer? I’m done driving these guys to the park — for all I know this is one that we already trapped in the past. Anyone want to come remove the bags of shit in my attic? No? Fine. It’s just going to sit there forever. My 0 ladder is not tall enough to get to the soffit to fix it from outside — and it’s rather perilous to get to that point within the attic (only really possible without a major hassle due to the attic ladder we installed this year, which was in response to raccoons).

I just them dead. All of them.On the entire planet. I would press an extinction button in a second without a thought. Destroy all raccoons.

So can I drown them? I have a plastic tub outside. That seems really drawn out and mean, but it can be done while they are still in the cage without having to touch them or make a bloody mess.

I can’t shoot it with my gun because it’s not legal to fire my gun on my property. And it would be a bad idea to drop them into my well, where they would stink up my emergency water supply.

And no, before you ask — animal control does not do anything in this situation. If it’s in your attic, it doesn’t fall under their jurisdiction, and if it is trapped, it does not fall under their jurisdiction.

Incidentally, the wooden "stakes" are the old tripod legs from my childhood telescope (which was my dad‘s childhood telescope). We recently decommissioned it (I keep the screws from things I throw away, they often come in handy later). I decided to keep the stakes. Figured they’d come in handy. Naught but a week later, I’m using the stakes to make sure it’s mouth can’t get near the handle of the cage. Don’t want raccoon rabies. Although they have only killed one American in history, I still don’t want raccoon rabies. I’d be the type to not go to the doctor and become the 2nd one to die from it… Anyway, I’m amazed how random pieces of wood find uses in the strangest situations.

cage, raccoon, stakes, trap, tripod legs.

front yard, Clint and Carolyn’s house, Alexandria, Virginia.

April 5, 2011.

… Read my blog at
… Read Carolyn’s blog at

doctor strange
Image by LWO
Moment before falling asleep on the surgical operating table. Last view, may be the least.
This is also the last image I have in my head before falling asleep, a strange image … How to be relaxed ?

From a series of photographies about the topic of medicine.

5 W Concerns for the Story of “The Birth of Jesus” from Luke Two

luke skywalker
by Trev Grant The births of my 2 children were two

of the best days of my life, but their births might never as compare to the amazing birth of our Lord and Rescuer, Jesus Christ. The birth of Jesus may be the greatest story that could ever be determined. A virgin mother, the King of all kings sleeping in an animal’s feed trough, angels and terrified shepherds. It doesn’t get much better than that. Many, if not all of your kids, will understand this story. But pray the Lord makes it unique to them somehow. For instance when I read it through this time, I was especially surprised by the fact that an entire host of angels signed up with the one angel who announced Jesus “birth. Can you even picture exactly what that need to have been like?! Make sure you set the story up with a quick description of exactly what a census is and why it was essential for Joseph and Mary to travel to Bethlehem. Here are twenty-one 5” W “concerns– who, what, when, where, why and how- with their responses for the

story of “The Birth of Jesus” found in Luke 2: 1-20. These questions can be utilized with both children and elementary children. Just be ready to tweak them a bit for the proper age. You can also read a verse first, and then ask the question or you can check out the entire passage of Scripture and then ask the concerns. Your more youthful kids may take pleasure in having some type of puppet ask the concerns. Have enjoyable! Concerns for the story “The Birth of Jesus”1. Who was the Roman emperor at the time of the census? Response: Augustus. (Luke 2:1)

2. Where did Joseph need to go to be counted for the census? Answer: Bethlehem.( Luke 2:4 )3. Who did Joseph take with him to Bethlehem?

Response: Mary. (Luke 2:5)

4. Where was child Jesus born? Response: In Bethlehem.( Luke 2:6)5. What kind of clothes did Mary cover Jesus in? Response

: In strips of cloth. (Luke 2:7) 6. Where did child Jesus sleep? Answer: In a manger.(Luke 2:7

)7. Why did Joseph, Mary and Jesus have

to sleep out in a barn? Response: Due to the fact that

there was no room in the inn.( Luke 2:7) 8. What were the

shepherds doing out in the fields close by? Answer:

They were safeguarding their sheep.

(Luke 2:8 )9. Who appeared to the shepherds in the fields? Response: An angel of the Lord.(Luke 2:9) 10. What

surrounded the shepherds of the field ? Answer: The Lord

‘s glory.(Luke 2:9 )11. How did the shepherds feel when they saw the angel? Answer: They were horrified. (Luke 2:9)

12. Why did the angel say to the shepherds,”

Do not hesitate”? Response: Due to the fact that

he had great news for them.(Luke 2:10)13. Exactly what did the angel call Jesus? Response: The Rescuer, the Messiah and the Lord. ( Luke 2:11 )14. How would the shepherds understand who Jesus was? Response: The infant Jesus will be covered”in

strips of fabric, lying in a manger. “(Luke 2:12 )15. Who signed up with

the angel and praised God? Answer: An entire army of angels. ( Luke 2:13 )16. When did the shepherds

go to discover child Jesus? Answer: After all the angels returned to Heaven

(Luke 2:15 )17. How quick did the shepherds go to search for child Jesus? Response: They rushed.( Luke 2:16)18. When did the shepherds tell everyone about the angels and Jesus? Answer

: After seeing Jesus.(Luke 2:17 )19. The number of people were surprised by the story the shepherds informed ? Response: All

the people. (Luke 2:18)20. What did Mary think of often

and keep in her heart? Response: The birth of her Son and the story of the shepherds. ( Luke 2:19 )21. Why did the shepherds glorify and applaud God after

going back to their flocks ? Answer: Due to the fact that

everything that the angel said was real.(Luke 2:20) Next, if you liked this Sunday

School/Homeschooling idea, then sign up to get

Bible Lady’s Free Email Newsletter packed complete with creative concepts and get 6 FREE Bible Review Games to assist get the kids

you minister to delighted about the Bible! Just click on this link: Kathy Vincent

is the director of a performing ministry for kids called The Scripture

Lady and has been circumnavigating Southern California for the previous 15 years ministering to

preschoolers and elementary aged kids with the Word of God through musical, thematic

presentations. She is also a routine seminar speaker, author/creator of over 30 items for the Christian kids’s employee and a veteran homeschooling mother of two. More Luke Skywalker Articles

5 W Concerns for the Story of “The Birth of John the Baptist” from Luke One

luke skywalker
by Chris Pirillo

I have actually always been intrigued by the story of John the Baptist, particularly the part where Zechariah was unable to speak. Elizabeth has to have had 9 months of lovely peace! (Sorry, gentlemen.) Your kids will enjoy this story as well. Make certain to mention to your kids that it was extremelyuncommon in Bible days for the first child notto named after his daddy. Elizabeth was being loyal to God’s desires to call her child John. Also be sure that you explain that Zechariah gave God applaud when he could talk once again. He didn’t grumble that God had actually shut his mouth. He was incredibly grateful for God’s terrific blessing of a first-born kid.

Here are fourteen 5 “W” concerns– who, what, when, where, why and how – with their answers for the story of “The Birth of John the Baptist” discovered in Luke 1: 57-80. These questions can be used with both young kids and elementary children. Simply be prepared to modify them a bit for the appropriate age. You can also read a verse first, and after that ask the concern or you can check out the entire passage of Scripture then ask the concerns. Your more youthful children may enjoy having some kind of puppet ask the questions. Have a good time!

Concerns for the story “The Birth of John the Baptist”

1. What type of infant did Elizabeth have– a kid or a woman?

Response: A boy. (Luke 1:57)

2. Who enjoyed for Elizabeth and Zechariah?

Response: Their next-door neighbors and relatives. (Luke 1:58)

3. What had the Lord revealed to Elizabeth?

Answer: Great grace. (Luke 1:58)

4. What name did some people believe Elizabeth’s and Zechariah’s child would be named?

Response: Zechariah (Luke 1:59)

5. Why did Elizabeth state that her son’s name was going to be John?

Response: Since God informed them to call their child John. (Luke 1:13)

6. When could Zechariah lastly speak once again?

Response: After he composed and informed the people that his son’s name would be John. (Luke 1:64)

7. Who did Zechariah appreciation after he could speak?

Response: God. (Luke 1:64)

8. How did the neighbors feel when they saw Zechariah get his voice back and praising God?

Response: They feared. They were amazed. (Luke 1:65)

9. What sort of concern did the people ask?

Response: Exactly what is Elizabeth’s and Zechariah’s kid going to be? (Luke 1:66)

10. Who did Zechariah sing a song to?

Response: To God. (Luke 1:68)

11. When was Zechariah filled with the Holy Spirit?

Response: When he sang a song to God. (Luke 1:67)

12. In Luke 1:76, what will Zechariah’s son, John, be called?

Response: A prophet of one of the most High. (Luke 1:76)

13. How did John mature?

Response: He grew strong in spirit. (Luke 1:80)

14. Where did John the Baptist live?

Answer: In the desert. (Luke 1:79)

Next, if you liked this Sunday School/Homeschooling concept, then sign up to receive Scripture Woman’s Free Email Newsletter loaded complete with innovative ideas and receive 6 FREE Bible Review Games to help get the kids you minister to excited about the Bible! Just click on this link: Kathy Vincent is the director of a performing ministry

for children called The Bible Lady and has been circumnavigating Southern California for the past 15 years ministering to young children and elementary aged children with the Word of God through musical, thematic presentations. She is likewise a regular workshop speaker, author/creator of over 30 items for the Christian kids’s employee and a veteran homeschooling mommy of two. Associated Luke Skywalker Articles

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It might not be as envigorating as the idea of checking out a galaxy far, far in VR, however poor old 2D Star Wars Battlefront has actually still discovered a loyal fan base, with more than 12 million copies sold. Now publishers EA desire to bring you back to the game …
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Han Solo, Greedo take on in Star Wars Battlefront Outer Rim trailer
The DLC pack presents Nien Nunb and Greedo, who makes the spotlight at the trailer'' s end as he and Han Solo face off and draw their weapons, as new playable heroes to the game. The pack will likewise consist of four brand-new maps including the factories of …
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