MY SON, JOHN

 

MY SON, JOHN

There's no doubt in my mind that angels have been watching over John since he was a baby, starting with the day his dad caught him at the bottom of the basement stairs just as he was about to hit the concrete. Here's some more of his stories:

My son, John, was riding to school on his bicycle through the little town of Nashville, IL where we lived. He was looking upward at a sign his dad had made for a business there in town. Because he wasn't watching where he was going, he ran into the back of a pickup truck, went flying through the air and landed sprawled across a big machine part in the back of the truck. Fearing the owner would come out of the business and wonder what John was doing in the back of his truck, he climbed out in a hurry and walked his bike the rest of the way to school because it was no longer rideable. When he got home he told me what happened in his laid-back way and when he finished I asked if anyone stopped to help him. He said, "Yow, one man stopped but he just laughed and laughed."

My older sister and I, my two kids and her son were walking through the woods my older sister and her then husband had just purchased in Millstadt, IL. They were going to build a house on the property. My youngest sister was also with us. She went on ahead with my little son then all of a sudden she came running back to us terrified. We asked her what was wrong but she could hardly speak. Finally she got the word "snake" out and that was enough. I took off running toward my son who had stayed where they were and was standing perfectly still. We knew there were Copperhead snakes on their property but we failed to take that into consideration. I had to slow down before I got to my son so I wouldn't startle the snake. It was coiled and was having a staring contest with my son, who was standing there peacefully. I stood back as far as I could from my son and grabbed him from behind and got away from it. We had had enough of our tour of their woods so walked back to the car, but I had to put my son down because my knees weren't holding both of us. They had gone weak and shakey.

A more humorous life experience: My older sister, Linda, and I were looking for a parking place in Belleville, IL. Traffic had stopped at an intersection and a nun walked across the street with her habit flowing behind her in the wind. She had just purchased a broom. My son, just a toddler at the time, exclaimed, "Look, Mom! There's a witch!" Trying not to laugh I responded with "That's not a witch, honey, that's a nun." He said "Yes it is too. See she even has a broom." About that time we found a parking spot but we were laughing so hard we could hardly walk cross the street.

Many years ago I had a pair of scissors in my hand about the time company came through the door, so I laid the scissors on the kitchen counter thinking that since the counter was taller than my son was, he couldn't reach them. I went to greet our company while going back through the kitchen. I looked down the hall and there was my young son running down the hall with the scissors pointed up. I just about had a heart attack. I couldn't get to him fast enough -- literally -- because he tripped and fell with those scissors pointed up. I picked him up while imagining the worst, but God must've sent an angel because all he had was a crease in the protective film on his eye. God has blessed that kid and us so many times. Don't you know his guardian angel is exhausted, though.

My then husband and I were in the kitchen doing our normal kitchen things when all of a sudden we both saw a bright flash of light come from our little son's bedroom at the end of the hall. We ran as fast as we could to his room to see what happened. He was just lying in his bed with eyes as big as saucers. We looked around the room and saw a melted nail under an outlet. I couldn't tell John was shocked in any way. Not even his fingers were burned. Once again, thank you God. He is now in his 50s and a grandfather.

We lived on an acre that was narrow and long. My son was playing in our back yard. He was a little more than a toddler. He was in the company of a bumble bee. Somehow he made the bumble bee madder than a hornet and the bee took out after him. I was surprised at how fast his little legs could run. He almost made it to the far end of the property where pine trees were growing and he tripped. When he did, the bee lost track of him and whizzed over him. All I could do was watch from the sliding glass doors in the dining room nurturing near heart attack #400. He was fine.

My dad loved to fish. Several of us older siblings were visiting our parents with our kids. They were still young. Dad decided to take my son and one of the youngest of his cousins out in the boat to fish. While they were fishing, a sudden storm came up -- a gullywasher. I was at home worrying and so was my youngest sister, the mother of the cousin that went fishing with Dad and my son. They ran into a small problem when the storm hit. The car was on the other side of the lake. So Dad headed for the other side. My son is laid-back and doesn't panic easily, or at least he didn't back then. He has his own kids now. That changes things. Back to my story, when they finally made it home I asked my son if he was afraid. He answered "No." I said, "Well, didn't water get in the boat?" He replied, "Yes, but we just poured it out."

My two kids, two of their cousins and the mother of the cousins were at Worlds of Fun in Kansas City. We mothers let the kids go on the rides while we stayed on solid ground. We were chatting away when all of a sudden my son and his sidekick ran up to us and said the girls were on a ride. He could hardly get the words out. I wasn't concerned at first because I thought maybe they were scared on the ride and my son was scared for his sister. As it turned out, all four kids were scared because the roller coaster ride the two girls were on had stopped on the highest part of the roller coaster with a broken wheel The girls discussed whether or not they were going to die because they didn't see how they could possibly get down. They were terrified. Part of what confused me when my son told me they were stuck on the ride is that he expressed his fear as anger. So my mind went the wrong direction. I wondered why they were into it this time. He wasn't and isn't an angry person, never threw tantrums, didn't throw things or get mouthy, but he was angry then. He actually taught me a psychology lesson that day. Just because a person acts angry doesn't mean the person is truly angry; they may be afraid. My son expressed that same anger when he thought his sister had been kidnapped while sprinting down the country road. She went out of our sight, which was unusual, but she had just turned a corner and went farther than usual. Fortunately the girls weren't stuck on the ride too terribly long.

When the Covid scare hit our area, the Wall family had our church service at Peg's sister's house past Summersville and a short way into the country. They have a deck just outside of their dining area. A bee had been guarding it for a month, holding them hostage. Arlene's husband, Paul, tried everything to get rid of the bee but couldn't. Little John went out on the deck and the bee flew by so he swatted it to the deck with his hand and then stomped on it. Two more bees showed up later and he made it his mission to kill them too. He swatted one so hard in the air with a fly swatter that it ended up on the roof. He climbed up on the roof to make sure it was dead. Then he went after the third one. I left before he got that one. He amazes me with some of the things he does. I have to add this: His dad did something similar only with mice. They were hiding in a wood pile in our back yard. They came scurrying out and John Sr. stomped at them until, as far as I could tell, he got them all. His legs were flying. That’s one reason he was captain of the basketball team at Central Christian Church (Central Church of Christ then) decades ago. 

I had no sooner finished writing these true life stories about "my son John" when he was told he had cancer. Since he is a private person, I will keep the details private. He went through surgery, seven weeks of radiation therapy once a day except weekends, and chemo once a week and a week-long hospital stay. The things he had to go through in preparation for the radiation treatments were, in my opinion, horrendous. He had to be hospitalized for a week partway through the treatments. During his surgery and treatments, hundreds of people were praying for him. His final treatment was scheduled but he couldn't make it because he was vomiting. It was scheduled again but he couldn't make it this time because the reservoir across the road was flooding and he couldn't get out. The secondary dam had breached. So he went out and filmed it. That's John.

The video was all over the local news. He didn’t respond to CNN’s request to use it globally or he would have had more views than the 142,000 views on facebook alone. The video told the story of the flood but there was another story behind the flood story and that was his personal story. John is cancer-free and is recovering at a normal pace. He is back at work except when he has to take time off for hospital visits in St. Louis, local doctor visits, and tests. He still welcomes prayers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Here is the link to John's video of the secondary dam breach across the road from his house. His house was unaffected.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5JZTiS4fApU


Becky Wall
beckyowall.blogspot.com

COPING

Written in 2018 - These are my thoughts a month after losing my grandson. Writing is my therapy and putting my thoughts into words helped me cope and stopped the "tape" from playing over and over in my head.

COPING

I think I’m coping remarkably well because I didn’t fall to pieces when Devon died.  It may have been shock or it could have been that little something God gives us Christians that helps us grieve as we are able.  Yes, I think I’m coping really well, but:

I can’t sleep at night.

I don’t feel like eating much.

I stutter when I talk and whatever I say doesn’t come out right; I can’t think straight.

I frustrate easily.

I can be in Walmart or anywhere else and a memory will come to mind and I will have a sensation come over me of wanting to drop to my knees because they are so weak. (I had those same sensations after my divorce.)

I don’t want to go anywhere unless it’s to be with family.

I don’t always feel like completing a project or I attack it. 

I’m a little bit mad at God because I pray 3 times a day to take care of my family and I prayed specifically for Devon, and yet who else do I depend on to get me through this and all of life but God.

I have more anxiety; I feel nervous.

I can be talking to someone about Devon in a normal conversational tone and all of a sudden I will break down and cry. By the way, crying is the safety valve when too much pressure is built up. I read this years ago and it stuck with me except for the author's name.

I’m going through the “What ifs.” What if I had done more? What if I had parked on his doorstep?

I keep “playing the tape” over and over trying to make sense of Devon’s death.

But I’m grateful for the strength I do have and have had through this horrible experience because the strength can only come from God. Grief is normal and necessary. God won’t take it away but He’ll help us through it.

Proverbs 14:13
Even in laughter the heart may ache, and rejoicing may end in grief.

Lamentations 3:33
For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.

1 Peter 1:6
In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.

MY SLCC YEARS

 

MY SLCC YEARS

I was at St. Louis Christian College from January of 1997 until May of 2001. I had to go from full-time to part-time in order to free up time to help take care of my mother who had Alzheimer's. I obtained an A.A. Degree in General Studies with an emphasis on the Bible. I also served as Dorm Mom from June of 1997 until I graduated. The last year I worked a part-time job off campus for CWBA or Christian Women's Benevolent Assn., the parent organization for a 180-bed nursing home. 

I put out a monthly newsletter for the girls in the dorms called The Wallpaper. My last name is Wall, as you've probably noticed. I've had six articles published in the Christian Standard, 3 before I got to the college and 3 afterwards. I wrote an article for each of the newsletters. Several of them I've included in my blog (beckyowall.blogspot.com). 

I have well over 200 writings (now over 400) in my blog which includes poetry and articles. I have taken each of the main stories in the Old Testament and put them to rhyme. I would like to assemble them in a book and have it published in the future but I am now 76 and my health has deteriorated. I can still write, though, and I will continue writing for the Lord whatever He inspires me to write about. 

LOSING DEVON

 1986 - 2018

THE RON YEARS

THE RON YEARS

I used to joke with my sisters that my next man was going to be a Harley man with tattoos. I think I sealed my future with that comment. Ron fit that description. I first met him at church. He would bring his wife in in a wheelchair and take care of her and I was impressed at that. I thought he was this grandfatherly laid-back guy that was always at church every Sunday. Not so. 

His wife died and he and I began dating. We never married but we dated for six years. As is turns out, he was one of the founding members of the Outlaw motorcycle gang in Chicago. He was a beer-drinking, pot-smoking mess. He left Chicago when the Outlaws got involved in gunfights and a bullet narrowly missed his head. He eventually ended up in Texas. He got a job as a welder making decent money but still liked his beer and pot. 

God got his attention when he started having portions of his colon removed until his whole colon was removed. The hospital chaplain came into his room one day and asked if he could pray with him. Ron said "Yow, if it makes you feel better." So the chaplain began to pray and Ron said something came over him and when the chaplain quit praying, he felt cleansed. He was ready to give up drinking, pot smoking and smoking in general. People were in awe of how much he changed and they were dumbfounded when he spoke about Jesus. This was not the guy they were used to.

People were still in awe of Ron just because of who he used to be. He had a winning smile and personality, a quick wit, and he never lost his swagger. He attracted women like flies to food. And he had a beautiful head of white hair, a masterpiece. It could blow in the wind when he rode his motorcycle and go right back into place. He still had muscles in his shoulders and chest until his dying days.

There were some good times with Ron and some not-so-good times, such as when he had two motorcycle accidents and then was diagnosed with cancer. In the first accident Ron was riding around town on his "bike" after a CMA (Christian Motorcycle Assn.) meeting. It was one of the first warm nights of spring and he was enjoying it. He got as far as Long John Silver's and a truck turned in front of him. It was totally unexpected. Ron held onto his bike so that he didn't go flying through the air and into the truck. But he fractured his knee when he went down. He had 8 weeks of recuperation and I was his caretaker and driver.

About two or three years later he was in another accident near Maryville. He caught the edge of a curb at an odd-shaped intersection. He and his bike went catapulting separately end over end. He had a big gash above his eye, a broken neck and a bad case of road rash on his right arm. They stitched up his eye and did a CT scan to see if any other damage was done. That's when they discovered his neck was fractured. He had to wear a collar for six weeks. They also discovered that he had cancer in his pancreas. He refused treatment for it no matter how much I or the doctors begged. 

He lived 2 1/2 more years without treatment. I was his caretaker through the broken neck healing process also. He was able to do most everything until his last few months, then taking care of him was extremely difficult because I was showing signs of Rheumatoid Arthritis myself and was unable to do things for him such as lift him. Fortunately his sister lived down the road and she was able to lift him. He lived with his disabled sister. She could do nothing except make a phone call but I was glad she was there to do that. He was not a good patient because he was stubborn and had no patience. But I would be too if I were in his shoes and probably worse. He thought I ought to be with him every minute but I just couldn't. We were usually together from noon on. I had to shorten the evening time also, but that was before the bike accidents.

We went dancing Friday and Saturday evening every weekend. I never listened to country music before but learned to like some of it and I also learned to like line dancing. I was good at it until I realized my flexibility and balance were messed up. That was the RA causing it but I hadn't been diagnosed yet. My right hip hurt when I side-stepped such as with the two-step. I couldn't finish a dance. But it was fun while it lasted. Ron and I would glide across the floor and all of the ladies wanted to dance with him. They only got the chance when he and I broke up and we did that fairly often.

Ron, his sister, her man friend, and I went to hear the Headhunters in concert in Benton. They were really good. The singers took a breather and let the drummer go and he played a song the tempo of Wipe Out and he went on and on and on. He should have been exhausted. We were exhausted listening to him. Then Ron leaned over and said, "The only way they're going to get him to stop is to shoot him." He had such a hilarious way of saying things in his rural accent, partly from living in Texas 25 years or so. He was in pain from his cancer but hadn't lost his wit.

Another thing that happened that cracked me up happened at Aldi's. We were in the first aisle, him on one side looking at things and me on the other side. A fairly distinguished man came in and I thought nothing of it, but when he passed Ron (I still had my back turned), he said, "Would you hand me that, Honey?" I wondered why Ron didn't sock him in the nose or give him a tongue lashing. I turned around and Ron was picking up a jar of honey off of the shelf to give to him.

I would sometimes get an upset stomach when we went to dances so I put some baking soda in little clear zipper packets. He put them in his Harley bag made of fabric along with other things we might need. He came to my house one day and said some juveniles had stolen things out of his bag while his bike was parked outside. I was upset too until I remembered the packets. He said they stole those too. They probably thought they were getting cocaine. We could picture the juveniles somewhere sniffing baking soda.

Ron wasn't perfect but he did bring me out of my shell for six years and gave me a more active life. He thought the world of me and he would tell me I have no idea how beautiful I am. Every woman wants to hear that. It could be that he knew how to play his cards well, but I'll take it. That's the one time you can lie to me and I'm OK with it.

MY PLUNGE INTO POVERTY

MY PLUNGE INTO POVERTY

After losing my job at Central Christian Church I was unable to find another job. So I started selling on ebay. I did pretty well for a few years until the economy crashed. Then people started hanging onto their money for fear of the unknown. I don't know how I made it through those years except by the grace of God and help from family members. I won't mention names because they are trying to follow the Bible passage "do not let the left hand know what the right hand is doing." Or maybe it's just me that is considering that verse. I don't think so. I will say that I have wonderful siblings, wonderful kids, and wonderful extended family members.

It has still been a struggle. I went from $21,400 a year to $800 a month guaranteed income. I swore all of my life I would never go on public aid just as Mom and Dad swore. But here I am at the lowest point financially other than being homeless. I've had to swallow my pride and pride is a hard pill to swallow. I do get $189 a month for food and I have Medicare and Medicaid. I get help from Ameren through the PIPP program. I found out that through the weatherization program I could get a new water heater, furnace, A/C unit, and refrigerator, which I did. I got all new LED light bulbs and smoke detectors and a few replacement filters for the furnace. So that took a lot of worry off of me -- and my kids. Less than 10 years ago I applied for a grant to get a new roof and was accepted. I needed one badly.

I have no shame in getting my clothes and dishes from thrift shops. I consider myself resourceful. I would rather have all new clothes but it's no biggie. I do feel some shame using my LINK or EBT card for food. I know how people gripe about us poor people taking money out of the pockets of taxpayers. I'm afraid the person or persons behind me in line at a store will start griping about my using a LINK card. I try to correct people on facebook who are griping about the poor, all inclusive, and let them know it is the lazy poor who are taking money out of their pockets, not the truly needy. Christians should understand that better than non-Christians.

Maybe God wants me in this position so I can defend the poor. I have always had a heart for the poor because we grew up poor, at least to a certain age. I was in high school before I started feeling as if we were no longer poor. We didn't have extras but we were getting by a lot easier. My youngest sister is the only one that was able to get braces.

The Overturf family was poor financially in the early years but we were rich in family members. Ours was the "go to" house for our friends. We always had help, someone to encourage me, someone to weep with me, and someone to celebrate with me -- and the twins and Sharon to beat up anyone that messed with me. We siblings fought like cats and dogs with each other at times, but nobody better mess with anyone in the family. 

Music was a big part of our lives. Mom played the piano by ear and could sing and harmonize. Carolyn sang soprano and Marilyn did the harmony. Or we would just dance to rock 'n roll music. There was never a dull moment in our house. We were among the richest families. And we still are.

ST. LOUIS CHRISTIAN COLLEGE YEARS

ST. LOUIS CHRISTIAN COLLEGE YEARS

When I separated from John for two years I moved to Irvington, just two blocks from Little John and Peg. I was working for a dentist in Nashville at the time. When the divorce was finalized I bought a house in Mt. Vernon. I wasn't there very long before I decided to go to St. Louis Christian College for various reasons. In hindsight, I think I should have done something different. I regret the time I had to spend away from my kids and grandkids. But I only had a high school education and needed something more. I could get an A.A. Degree in General Studies with an emphasis on the Bible at SLCC, which I did. I had a 4.85 grade average. I found out later it was worthless when transferring to a secular college. 

I went to Rend Lake College before I went to SLCC to see about becoming a student there. The guidance counselor suggested I go to the city. She said they couldn't help me anymore than what I already knew. I thought that was so odd because she was supposed to be recruiting students, not directing them somewhere else. I began thinking about how I always wanted to go to SLCC and I could heal there without putting up with the liberal ideas I would have encountered at Rend Lake College.

I got settled in at SLCC and then made a trip to the library. There behind the desk was Phil Orr. He and I had gone to the same church in Nashville. He was a great guy. He was 6'4" and as thin as a toothpick, but he had Lupus. While at SLCC I went with him to a high school play as friends. He and my Mexican friend, Irma, and I went to the Muny several times and sat in the cheap seats. It was nice that he was there, although he wasn't there the last year that I was there. He was killed in a car accident a couple of years ago. He was a big loss to the Christian community.

During the first semester I asked the Dean of Student Affairs if she would consider me for Dorm Mom. I was thinking about the second dorm with no Mom. There were two girls' dorms. Months later the one Dorm Mom left and I was asked to take her place. I was over both dorms. I can't say being a Dorm Mom was a pleasant experience. It was so different than what I expected. So many of the kids that were there were more or less juveniles and their parents sent them to SLCC to get them straightened out. They went places they shouldn't. Two girls even went to a gay bar. One of them was the child of missionaries in Japan. There were thefts in the dorm and girls would steal other girls' food from the refrigerator. A couple of them were smart-alecks. Two girls got pregnant. Many of them were slobs. But there were some good ones too.

We had a security guard for the girls' dorms. He would sit in his van and watch to make sure the girls got in safely and on curfew. I passed him walking one day when we were on a break and no one was around. I noticed he had a video in his hand with a pornographic label on it. I chewed him out and he insisted it was a cult classic or something like that. I later went to the Dean of Student Affairs and told her what had happened. Evidently he had gotten to her first and told her it was a cult classic. She believed him and not me.

But one day he fainted on the lawn of the boys' dorm. The ambulance had to take him to the  hospital and a substitute was put in his place. When the sub got into the van, it was full of pornographic magazines and pornographic video covers. I was asked to tell my experience to the President of the college and subsequently the security guard lost his job. The young man kept going to the college with the intention of going into the ministry. I was seething inside because I thought the college was going to let him graduate. But came time to walk down the aisle, he wasn't in line. The administration had made up an excuse not to pass him.

Before all of that occurred, that same security guard used to come to the door of the dorm and tell me how people were holding seances in the field beside the girls' dorm that I was in. He also told me that he had seen a man dressed in black roaming around the dorms. I believed him until I got to know him. We did have a peeping Tom in the other dorm on one occasion, though.

I started out full time as a student but had to drop to part-time when Mom quit eating at the nursing home. I had three Resident Associates (RA's) that helped me out by watching the students while I was gone two days a week to go to the nursing home and feed Mom. She started eating again. Marilyn and I took certain days feeding her. When I got  job off campus two years later I was more limited in my time with Mom. I could go to the nursing home mostly on weekends. I always took Dad along with me.

We students had to do field work while at the college. We had to go off campus to help the poor and needy. I went with other students to the inner city food pantry. It was a crude building but they gave away produce, canned goods and every other kind of food that came from places like Dierberg's and Schnucks. I had gotten to be friends with the two African-American men that ran it. They were also nontraditional students (around my age). One of them mentioned that they would like to make a chapel on the upper floor. I was in a class one day when the professor mentioned that the class needed a project. I thought of the chapel but didn't say anything. Ironically or by divine design, the professor and one of the men that ran the food pantry crossed in front of me in the hall. I stopped them both and asked the food pantry man to tell the professor about his dream project. The professor was so excited and told everybody about me setting the whole thing up. I felt like God did, not me. But I love being His tool. Both black students were elders in their respective churches and were going to SLCC to become better elders. The one in the picture, Robert Lawrence, had retired from General Motors so was free to attend as a daytime student. He ended up behind the pulpit. The other one had an accredited upholstery college and later began buying up real estate. I don't know if he was retired but he found a way to be a daytime student. Unfortunately he died of cancer.

The last semester I was there Florissant got hit with a major hailstorm one afternoon. It was spring break so many of the students weren't there. But others were on a mission trip to Africa and left their cars in the parking lot open to the weather. My car was also exposed to the weather. One student and I got on the stairs leading to the basement which was like another floor. It had tables and a kitchen. We had to stay on the stairs, though, because the hail stones were breaking all of the basement windows. I could only imagine what it was doing to my car. When the storm passed we went to survey the damage. The back window of my car was completely gone. There were dents all over my car and one big baseball-size dent on the trunk. I was told by the insurance agent to go get the window replaced right away and then we could meet at an assigned time and place. My car was completely totaled, though it was still driveable. But the smell was awful and besides, I am allergic to mold. So when I moved to Mt. Vernon, I traded it in on a new car. Just about everybody in Florissant got a new roof including the college, which turned out to be a blessing. They got new windows too. Anyone whose car was outdoors got had their car totaled. The alarms in the cars whose owners were in Africa were going off and I didn't know what to do to stop them. Inside their cars were expensive books and their windows were out so the rain was getting in. There was nothing I could do.

Changing the subject, my job off campus was secretary to the President of CWBA. It was a part-time job but I got full benefits. Christian Women's Benevolent Assn. (CWBA) was the parent organization over a 180-bed nursing home in Ferguson. It was also over an assisted living complex. CWBA used to have a mothers and babies home many years ago. Due to a plage and the deaths of too many babies, they were instrumental in starting a

hospital that eventually was turned into Christian Hospital Northeast. My boss was on their Board of Directors and her picture hung above the chapel. The first hospital they started was out of necessity because so many babies were dying. 

At some point in time CWBA also ran a children's home. It is no longer in operation. The first time I heard the name of the parent organization I mentioned to someone that it sounded like a sewing circle and how amazed I was at their accomplishments. I was later told it did start out as a sewing circle. The women would sit around and make baby clothes. Then they saw the need to provide a home for some of those babies and their mothers. And it went from there into the hospital, the children's home, the nursing home and the assisted living home. When I told the board at CWBA that I was leaving, I was asked to make trips back to CWBA for board meetings. I had to decline because of the long drive.

Back on campus, an awards ceremony was held after graduation and I was awarded $500 for a story I submitted about a circuit riding preacher whose grandson went to the church I attended. I needed a subject and when he started talking about his grandfather, I knew the grandfather would make a good subject.

I applied for a job at Central Christian Church in Mt. Vernon. Lo and behold, Jamie Allen, the lead preacher, called me and asked me to be their secretary. I found out later that he wanted
someone from out of the area. When I got there and was working the job he discovered I knew alot of the Mt. Vernon people. Back to that first phone call, he told me what they were offering as a salary and I told him I couldn't live on that. He said he would talk to the Board and see if they could increase the amount. A day or two later he called me back and told me they upped the salary to an amount I could live on so I took the job. And long story short, it didn't work out.