Showing posts with label Reuben Brigham. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Reuben Brigham. Show all posts

June 7, 2013

Happy 98th Anniversary Ruby & Ganny!

Reuben and Marjorie Brigham silver anniversary invitation

From The Annals of Sandy Spring, Volume V, 1929-1947, edited by Herbert Osburn Stabler, published by American Publishing Co., copyright 1950, p. 181:  On June 7th [1940], the Brigham children gave Reuben and Marjorie a reception in honor of their 25th anniversary.

Reuben and Marjorie Brigham silver anniversary envelope

September 28, 2009

Family Cemetery at Glyndon

Each Memorial Day the gravesite is groomed and bedecked with fresh flowers and an American flag. But most of the year it is quiet and plain and tucked in the edge of the woods.



The monuments here are as follows: headstones for Reuben Brigham and Marjorie Snowden Brigham; a bench given by University of Maryland class of 1908; and a sundial "from friends in agriculture."



The inscription on Reuben's headstone is "The Old Knight's Vigil" by Alfred Noyes:

ONCE, in this chapel, Lord,
Young and undaunted,
Over my virgin sword
Lightly I chaunted,
" Dawn ends my watch. I go
Shining to meet the foe.

" Swift with Thy dawn," I said,
Set the lists ringing !
Soon shall Thy foe be sped,
And the world singing :
Bless my bright plume for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.

War-worn I kneel to-night,
Lord, at Thine altar.
O, in to-morrow's fight,
Let me not falter.
Bless my dark arms for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.

Keep Thou my broken sword
All the long night through
While I keep watch and ward.
Then, the red fight through,
Bless the wrenched haft for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.

Keep, in Thy pierced hands,
Still the bruised helmet.
Let not their hostile bands
Wholly o'erwhelm it.
Bless my poor shield for me,
Christ, King of Chivalry.

Keep Thou the sullied mail,
Lord, that I tender
Here at Thine altar-rail,
Then let Thy splendour
Touch it once . . . and I go
Stainless to meet the foe.




The inscription on Marjorie's headstone reads, "To thine ownself be true."





September 22, 2009

June 1971

It was just a short article in a promotion booklet. I took time to see it had been written in, for and about conditions in another country. Nevertheless, I could hum the opening lines:

"Everybody's talkin' at me
Don't hear a word they're sayin',
Only the echoes of my mind."

The message kept ringing as I walked alone on the streets of the Capital City of the greatest nation on earth.

These words were from the them song of the film Midnight Cowboy telling of a lonely young man in a big city. The small town boy had lost his ability to communicate and thereby the essential ingredient to keeping one spiritually alive. To me they asked what happened? Why do we experience such uncertainty? What is there for us to hold to? What gives life direction? Who sets the pace? Who leads? Why make the effort? Who botched up what? Why am I urged to straighten out some of the mess?

Several of my friends had a vital discussion over a simple lunch. Can't you hear the reaction? What's the use of writing a column, or even a letter? People don't take time to read anymore. A glance through the newspaper and never a good book!

We are in a great rush to nowhere and we have the means to pay for things to be done for us. Why fight it?

These thoughts don't help when you are looking for the right way to communicate something you want to say or that you hope folks will want to hear and relate to.

Then came the bold. YOU ARE PART AND PARCEL OF THE PILL GENERATION. It all began with that aspirin your mother gave you years ago. Certainly your kids have known nothing else. Every shape and color; in fancy containers and plain; but always handy.

True, it all began with mom. She tranquilized by reading stories children liked to hear, reciting poetry by the hour and re-telling those "hand-me-downs" from previous generations. All were designed to relate to the peace of mind and the education of the upcoming generation.

We were supposed to be a little poor, maybe a little hungry, clothes a little worn and torn, hands grubby on occasion, and discouragement part of a regular diet.

If treatment was needed, there was a home remedy--like lemon, sugar and kerosene for coughing spells; iodine that stung for cuts and scratches; mustard plaster for congestion; argerol and ipicac [ipecac] (can't spell 'em but sure can taste 'em); and then the spring "line up kids and we'll clean out the winter"--each in turn gulped a tablespoon of castor oil.

What happened to the Sunday visits? The picnic trips with the whole family? Are there still places to go and things to do--as a family? Do we need a pill to escape or to relax? Do we need another to sharpen the intellect, to reassure, to give courage? Whey do I need to be confused to boost my morale and pull me out of a depression? My old Sunday School teacher used to say, "Don't count sheep; talk to the Shepherd." Sometimes that worked.

So many are worried. Things are already distorted and we either don't know how to face our times or we don't want to. It's so easy to pick up the many-sided safety valve "The devil made me do it." There's a pill for everything and we are the generation of pills.

It's tough to relate when the terms are over your head and the kids see you and your limited exposure as the root of the problem. To you a trip is travel, a pot belongs under a bed, and hooked is something mom did to make a rug.

The youngsters can't relate to the hydraulic ram, the wooden water tank, a stopped overflow and water from the attic to the basement with plaster falling behind. Coal oil lamps and candles, chunk stoves and feather ticks, soap stones and crocks, three point two and Goose Goslin, all need explaining.

So they come back with kicks and distortions, pot and love-in, beautiful and Hotline, grass and hard rock music, Mary Jane and free love.

Maybe we need to find the time to study our vocabulary. We who are older have made the journey and we know. Those who are younger will soon be the ones who can recount the experience and just hope the even younger generation will not go quite as far and fast as they did. But they know they will!

Somehow, I don't mind telling you about a 19 year old boy and his dad. They related and understood, although the language was a shade different. The young fellow came down to breakfast on Sunday morning. He was greeted with "Son, you turned in mighty late last night." There was a ready explanation for the 2:00 a.m. arrival. "Don't you see, Dad, the ole Model-A froze up and she boiled over. I took the radiator cap off to see what happened and it blew off in the big snow drift over on the middle pike. I looked and looked but never did find it again."

The response was unexpected. "Yes, Son. Well some years ago your Mother and I were courting. We had old Nancy to the buggy and came around past Highland and over Mink Hollow Road. On the way the lap robe bounced out of the back of the buggy, and it took up tow hours to locate that darn thing."

Sometimes there are older people who have a story to tell. I remember the same 19 year old boy who managed to get pifilated on 3.2 beer when he was two years below the legal age limit for purchase and consumption.

I have seen parents who must cap a difficult and frustrating week with "just a few" to put the memories away for a spell. Then they wonder what makes a kid seek escape from a hard and frustrating week at school with a slightly different approach.

There is a role for recreation in our society. Simple things like walks in the woods, picnics and croquet. Maybe we can read a little to relax. When did you learn you last poem or listen to the birds sing early in the morning.

There is a free society and we do have a free life. There is even freedom to self-destruct if we don't find the way to relate and communicate and love in the broadest sense.

Don't look for answers in terms of economic or social levels. Race and religion are both involved and concerned, nor have they found all the answers in the image of man or the hope of faith. When I was a youth I asked for guidance. My college professor said, "You are often guilty by association." From my mother came, "A man is known by the company he keeps." Dad got right to the point, "If you lie down with dogs, you will get up with fleas."

David L. Brigham
Executive Director

September 5, 2009

Origins of Troop 264

This history was written by David L. Brigham, the "First Scout" of Boy Scout Troop #264, and it appears on the Troop's homepage:

Troop 264 had its start from a summer 4-H State Camp near Blacksburg, Virginia. Ernest Thompson Seton, the greatest of nature writers including Wild Animals I Have Known, was a special invited guest. His role was to tell Indian stories and experiences at the campfires. He brought his friend Dan Beard, who had set the stage for the Boy Scout movement in the United States. My Dad, Reuben Brigham, was the U.S. Director of Information for the Agricultural Extension Service and had arranged for Thompson to participate. This was the early summer of 1927.

The inspiration of visits with these two youth and nature leaders during the idle daytime hours resulted in long talks about the Scouting program and all it provided young men age twelve and above. As a result, Brigham returned to his American Legion Post in Sandy Spring and asked his fellow veterans of World War I to help him set up a Troop for this community. They agreed, providing he would be Scoutmaster. The Washington Council sent professionals to assist from their very small staff. By fall, a Troop with 12 to 15 boys was in place. Dad was Scoutmaster, I was a Tenderfoot Acting Patrol Leader, and the Troop with a Sandy Spring address was #130.

There were Montgomery County Camporees, summer journeys to Camp Roosevelt on the Chesapeake Bay, fourteen mile hikes, fifty yard swims upstream in the Patuxent, wet wood and only two matches, first aid, cold nights, wet bodies, tests, games, and pledges (which I still remember). We sang Clemantine and went on Snipe hunts, climbed hills and slid down banks, wore shorts most the year and britches once in a while.

The troop lost the original number when several years of inactivity occurred. Charlie Hines served first as Assistant Scoutmaster. John Bancroft later served for several years. Original Scouts who come quickly to mind include Tom Hallowell, Francis Brigham, Fairman and Billy Fussell and Malcolm Thomas. Dick and Johnny Thomas had had other Scouting experience and for a period acted as Senior Scouts and advisors for us.

Norman Price Post #68 of the American Legion has been the sponsor of a Boy Scout Troop for nearly sixty years and during most of that period the present Troop 264 is in the record. It is a matter of mutual satisfaction when man and boy, Scout and Scouter, organization and organization, can work together for God and Country in a community of rich heritage and strong faith.

David L. Brigham

August 20, 2009

Profiles of Reuben Brigham


From the website of the Association for Communication Excellence in Agriculture, Natural Resources, and Life and Human Sciences:

The Reuben Brigham Award is offered in memory of Reuben Brigham (1887-1946), a native of Marlboro, Mass., and graduate of the University of Maryland. He served as an extension editor and 4-H Club agent in Maryland and was called to the Federal Extension Service office in 1917 to develop an editorial and visual aids service for extension editors. Brigham traveled the nation, conferring with editors and directors, and helped states develop their own editorial offices as separate units.

He organized the American Association of Agricultural College Editors and served as its president, secretary and treasurer. He established the Extension Service Review in 1939 and participated in the Farm and Home Hour of the National Broadcasting Company. During the Depression, he helped develop action agencies of the Agricultural Adjustment Administration. As head of a regional section of the AAA information office, he ensured that extension staffs were involved in that organization’s information plans. He later was appointed assistant director of the Federal Extension Service and was associated with extension directors, the land-grant college association and policy-making committees of the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Brigham died in Chicago while attending a meeting at the National 4-H Club Congress.

The Reuben Brigham Award, established in 1947, is reserved for a communicator, including a public relations or advertising professional, who has made a a major contribution in the field of agriculture, natural resources, or life and human sciences at the regional, national or international level. Active and retired members of ACE, a land-grant college or university staff, or USDA staffs are not eligible for the award. (Click for a list of past winners.)

* * * * *

A profile from the ACE retirees website:

Reuben Brigham. President 1924-25. U. S. Department of Agriculture

Reuben Brigham was born Dec. 13, 1887 in Marlboro, Mass. He was the son of a farmer and professor of agriculture. He graduated from the Maryland Agricultural College (later the University of Maryland) in 1908. For the next five years he operated a farm in Maryland, then returned to the university in 1913 to serve as secretary of Alumni Affairs to the university president. When the Smith-Lever Act established the extension service later that year, he joined the Maryland College of Agriculture staff where he was their first extension editor and 4-H club agent.

In 1917 he joined the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s extension service in Washington, D.C. to develop an editorial and visual-aids service for extension editors. He also started the Extension Service Review magazine in 1930.

During the depression years of the 1930s, he joined the Agricultural Adjustment Administration (AAA) where he was in charge of a regional section of the “Triple A” information office. In this position, he “saw to it that the college editors of the nation were used in all information plans and that the local state extension staff, including the editor, was not by-passed. . ..” He later returned to the extension service and was named assistant director.

He died unexpectedly Dec. 6, 1946 while attending the National 4-H Club Congress in Chicago—one week short of his 59th birthday. Following Reuben Brigham’s death, Past President Frank Jeter (North Carolina) said, “Brigham has as much to do with the successful formation and organization of the American Association of Agricultural College Editors as any other one single person.” Since 1947 AAACE/ACE has given the annual Reuben Brigham Award to honor the contributions in agricultural, home economics, and rural communication of a person outside its membership—the organization’s highest award.

* * * * *

And finally the culmination of a recent research project by Scout Jim Bikel titled "Reuben Brigham: Legend Unveiled," dated March 21, 2009, about the founder and first scoutmaster of Boy Scout Troop #264. He presented his project to the 10th annual Montgomery County gathering for National History Day. I had the pleasure of meeting Jim Bikel--a very nice young man--and I think he did a great job here. I have inserted two minor corrections into the text, which appear within brackets and are italicized:

Introduction

As part of a competition for an extracurricular activity known as National History Day, I did a research project on Mr. Reuben Brigham, commonly known to you as the troop’s founder. National History Day is a competition that is similar to a science fair for history. This year, the NHD had a theme of legacy. They recommended that we each pick a person from any period of history to research, and to focus on their lasting impact on the community, nation or world. While others focused on more well-known characters such as John Wilkes Booth, Walter Reed or Dr. Bird, I chose a lesser known character that I knew impacted me. Reuben Brigham, I knew, founded our scout troop in 1927. I knew nothing else about him, and didn’t expect much. Instead, I found he left much more than a scout troop behind. Be aware that I write about only what I was able to find out, and it is likely that some information is missing.

Childhood Years and Early Background

Reuben Brigham was born in Marlboro, Massachusetts, on December 13, 1887. His early years were spent growing up on a farm. His father taught him the farming methods himself, and Reuben also went to many different schools. He grew up not only in America, but in several other nations, including Germany and Japan. Sometime, he moved to the United States again and settled in Ashton, MD. He went to the University of Maryland (known back then as the Maryland Agricultural College), and he then graduated in 1908. After his graduation, he farmed for five years until his life became interesting.

Parcel Post

Ever wonder how that package came to your door? Ever wonder who started the Parcel Post? Farmers in the United States long wanted a government parcel service, due to the high prices that private companies would require. You often had two choices with items. You could pay more than half the worth to ship your products east or you could let them rot while you haul them yourself over the Appalachian Mountains. The reverse was true with getting something. If you needed, say, a Model-T car-to-tractor conversion kit so you could use a gasoline engine instead of a stubborn mule to plow your fields, you would have to pay the evil railroad companies more than twice the value of the kit to ship it to where you could pick it up, or you could take the dangerous route east yourself to get the part, leaving your farm unattended and spending hard-earned cash on gasoline and such. The National Grange, a large nationwide organization that farmers used to unionize and advocate for farmer rights, had turned a blind eye to it. Mr. Brigham, of the Olney Grange, wasn’t about to let a good plan go to waste. (The Olney Grange was a branch of the Maryland Grange, a branch of the National Grange, which was formed as unions won battles in industry while envious farmers still struggled.) By encouraging congressman David J. Lewis to test its soundness in Congress, he managed to get it through. There were many points at which the Honorable David J. Lewis admitted he felt like giving up. He said that through Mr. Brigham’s bottomless enthusiasm, he managed to gain enough support to get the legislation passed. Farmers and city folks nationwide loved it. A farmer now did not have to spend near as much to get a stupid part, so he was able to expand his farm more rapidly, and the customers ended up paying much less due to the significantly lowered shipping costs. The only downfall to this legislation was that the railroad companies were going bankrupt (eventually leading some of them to unite as CSX.) So next time you receive a package at the door, think about how it all started-from that same man who founded our scout troop.

The Agricultural Department

Ever hear about the United States Department of Agriculture? (You know, that government agency that inspects meat, leaving a sticker on it if it looks good enough?) It was originally started to help farmers and ranchers become educated about their actions, work, and sanitation, and to clean up the meat-packing industry scandals. According to the Agricultural Extension Service, he was called to the Department of Agriculture in 1917 to take charge of producing visual and editorial materials. After serving a year in the army, he returned to the agricultural department. He worked in the Agricultural Extension Service, which was created for the purpose of gathering the above stated materials. In the Extension service, he created a magazine which is still published today, known as the Agriculture Extension Service Review. In 1933, he was placed in the Agricultural Adjustment Administration (remember learning about FDR’s New Deal in History Class?). There he developed a regional contact division, which was used as a public relations committee for the AAA and other depression and wartime agencies. (The AAA was later deemed unconstitutional by the Supreme Court.) Another of his extension jobs was being the 4-H Club leader to Maryland, and he eventually became the top figure in the national 4-H Club. The 4-H Club was an organization founded to teach farm youth the basics of farming and how to do it the right way (preventing another Dust Bowl), and to give farm youth a proper education and upbringing. In his work, Mr. Brigham was very dedicated. He would not give the people he needed to contact a telephone call or a proper letter, but instead he would go out there in person and talk and become friendly with the farmers. He was so attached to his work that he died of an ailment when he went out west to contact a few farmers in 1946.

Mr. Brigham and War

In 1918, a year after Reuben joined the Agricultural Department, he joined the army. He fought as one of millions of “doughboys” fighting in WWI for the Allies against the Central Powers. He only fought for a single year, and not too much is known about his actions, most likely because he was no one of high rank. Reuben’s children were all involved in WWII. His son, David Brigham, served in the Pacific, and his other son served in Europe. His daughter became an army nurse. Mr. Brigham understood how the Axis Powers saw the war from their point of view, instead of just the Allied view, having grown up in Japan and Germany himself.

Mr. Brigham and Family

As stated before, Mr. Brigham’s father had dragged Reuben’s childhood all over the world. Mr. Brigham married Marjorie Snowden on June 7, 1915 at Ingleside (Queen Anne's County, MD) [*correction by Barb - Ingleside was the name of Francis Snowden's home located south of Ashton, MD, on what is now Route 650 New Hampshire Avenue]. Mr. and Mrs. Brigham were devout Quakers, and played a role in the Sandy Spring Friends group. As stated before, Reuben had three children. His first son, David Lewis Brigham, was named after Congressman David J. Lewis, a friend to Mr. Brigham. He had a second son, whose name I cannot find [*correction by Barb - Reuben had two more sons named Francis Snowden Brigham and Arthur P. Brigham, both of whom are deceased]. His daughter, born on February 22, 1922, was named after her mother, to become Marjorie Amber Brigham [now Marjorie Brigham Miller]. Marjorie, (the daughter) is still alive. She lives in Vermont, and helped me with my MDHD project. David Brigham married Gladys Beall in Rockville on December 28, 1938. David and Gladys Brigham had a son, who was also named David. This David Brigham, grandson of Reuben Brigham, is the person who has his name on a plaque on the bell structure in front of Sherwood High School. David Brigham Sr. died in 1999, and he had written a memoir about his father for the troop (also posted on the website). Reuben, having died in 1946, is buried on his property in Ashton next to his wife, Marjorie.

Property and House

Mr. Brigham bought his property from Francis Snowden in 1921. He built his house, named Glyndon, and that house still stands. It is visible at 1022 Olney-Sandy Spring Road, Ashton, MD. Our troop used to do our annual primitive there, but due to a problem with the neighbors, we have used the Haviland property as a substitute. (I will not discuss this too much, because I am bound to get it wrong, not knowing all the details.) On his property, he and his wife are buried as previously stated side-by-side. Besides the grave markers, there are different memorials honoring him, one from the American Legion Post #68, (which he helped found after WWI and which is still the sponsor of the troop), another from the University of Maryland Class of ’08 (1908, not 2008), and another from “Friends in Agriculture”.

Brigham and Youth

Mr. Brigham believed in the proper upbringing of rural youth. This is visible through the 4-H clubs he was involved with. David Brigham Senior has already written his brief memoir about the Troop’s history, so I shall not restate that. To access it, follow this link.

* * * * *

Correspondence from the late 1940's between Reuben "Shorty" Brigham and John William Firor are housed in Duke University Library's collection of Firor's papers, indexed here but not available online. Measuring in at 6'6" tall, this "Shorty" must be our Reuben.

August 18, 2009

October 1970

It was a massive desk with a thick glass over the entire surface. This was fitting since Dad was a big man in my life, in his work with the government and in physical appearance. Under the glass were three items of interest to a young lad who loved to visit "the office" on a Saturday morning when school was out and federal employees only worked a half day.

After some paperclips, a wide rubber band, and a pencil you could screw the point in and out of had been secured in the deep recesses of corduroy knickers and the ladies of the office had their "making over the boss's kid," I could study that desk top. Prominent was the quotation, "The wheel that does the squeaking is the one that gets the grease." A baby held a bottle over the caption "Milk Makes Men."

There was the young mother in blue and white gingham at the clothes line hanging the beautifully fluffed and I am sure already dry clothes. Those words still drift back: "The clothes line is a rosary of household love and care. Each little saint the mother loves is represented there." That must have included me!

Then, there was the picture of Mr. Lewis. I remember that one the best. In typical executive style, I stretched out in the swivel chair, placed my spindle legs on the glass desk top and leaned back. I was a wheel for a few moments but hadn't counted on some other wheels having to do with the stability of the chair.

As my foot left the desk in somewhat of a hurry, the heel dragged across the glass and much of the black rubber remained to distort the picture of Mr. Lewis. I don't recall that Dad was upset at his son, but I do recollect he was six-six and weighed two-sixty. Somehow the little fellow on the floor always remembered the words of that moment, "Mr. Lewis made his mark, and I reckon the boy wanted to make his."

So much is said, partly in jest and to make conversation, but in the routine and unexciting maze of government service. Perhaps this makes a little story very much in order. My Mother made the long journey just a few weeks ago. She left so much with us, as every mother should. She understood the strength of love and how you gave direction to life with it. So, quite obviously, she would say tell the story about the big man and the little Welsh coal miner from Cumberland.

Dad was bright and finished college in three years. I didn't know until many years after I finished that when you had a high school diploma in his day it meant you started in the sophomore year at college. Anyway, he started farming and became active in the Farm Grange. This farm organization gave support to Dad's contention that shipping costs for farm folks were out of all reason. There was no competition for private rail shipment by one very large company.

With a directing resolution from the Grange the young farmer approached the members of the Congress from Maryland. The only response came from David J. Lewis, a mite of a man stunted by labors in the coal mines of Allegany County. This self-made lawyer with less than a fourth grade education, began nearly a year of research, writing, and developing the case for parcel post legislation. At his side and request there worked a young farmer who was later to become the nation's Assistant Director of the Agricultural Extension Service.

In the midst of the legislative preparation the farmer had his first child. He took time out to give him a name. It was David Lewis, in honor of the little man with whom he walked down Pennsylvania Avenue each Wednesday for some thirty years. After a weekly luncheon the tall man and the almost dwarf relaxed by letting the public gawk as they walked.

The first parcel post bill was enacted into law by the Congress. Mr. Lewis, who later was honored as the Father of Social Security, was first recognized as the Daddy of Parcel Post. There is now among my prized inheritance a copy of that bill with the inscription, "To Reuben Brigham - to whom this legislation owes its life - David J. Lewis."

I went to see Mr. Lewis in Cumberland some years ago. He was in his mid-eighties working in the basement of a law building, and his clothes were wrinkled and spotty. The lawyers upstairs did not want me to go down into the basement retreat. He had failed so. I told them I was his namesake and knew him well. This was my pass key.

He was involved with blocks of wood and a jigsaw. After the warm greeting that was to be our last, he said, "David, they think I'm a little off." Then he explained, "I always wanted to know something about higher math and the books all assume you have had the basics. The only way I can work out the mathematical equations and physics is to cut blocks the way I think and then fit them together to prove the formula."

This was not too important until he added, "David, when you stop appreciating other people and when you stop desiring to improve you own knowledge, the world no longer needs you."

I am glad there is work ahead for all of us, that there is yet knowledge for us to acquire, and that there are people to relate to. Oddly enough the quot next to the Mr. Lewis picture read, "Life is a series of little packages from which the strings are always coming untied." If you can't handle it you might send it Parcel Post.

David Lewis Brigham
Executive Director

December 24, 2008

The Sandy Spring Museum

I visited the Sandy Spring Museum last week and snapped a few photographs. I remember when the museum first opened in a small brick home in Olney. My father, David A. Brigham, was a charter member and somehow designated as the first person that the security company called every time the wind blew and set off the alarm. Many a late night got dressed and drove up over to reset the security system. It must have been a little like being in the fire department again. Both he and my grandfather lived to see the new facility open. And it is really a testament to the Sandy Spring community. I want to share some of our family's images from the museum and the website. Many of these appear in the book Sandy Spring Legacy, which you can purchase directly from the museum. (I also found used copies listed on Amazon.)

This photograph and text about Reuben Brigham is part of an exhibit at the museum. Reuben and David J. Lewis worked together on the Parcel Post bill.

Sherwood's first tackle football team, fielded in 1944, smiles despite a disastrous initial season. Coached by math teacher Dwight Hurley, left, they are, front row from left: Mike Conner, Jimmy Frenzel, Willard Derrick, Fred Fry, Tom Benson, Calvert Heil, Keith Himebaugh, and Charlie Morris; second row, William Miller, Kyle Cantwell, John Johns, Robert Franklin, Sonny Johns, Louis Bussler, and Arthur Brigham; back row, Dick Kimmel, Pete Black, and David Haviland.

Girls' tennis flourished at youthful Sherwood High of 1910. The players are, front row from left: Polly Janney (Shields), Lydia Chichester (Laird), and Katherine Nichols; second row, Deb Iddings (Willson), Barbara Miller, Irene Kimler (Miller), Helen Barnes, Annie Miller, Edith Shoemaker; third row, Gladys Brooke (Tumbleson), Lydia Tatum, Anna Snowden (Bussler), and Henrietta Waters.

Iced tea for 2,300 is brewed by Gladys Brigham (center) and Anne Gilpin (right) for the forty-third annual Hospital Supper and Bazaar in 1964. Mrs. Gilpin's sister, Mrs. C. Jones from England, observes. Staged by the Woman's Board, the annual supper and bazaar has been a major community event for nearly 80 years.

A childhood recollection of David L. Brigham, born 1916: "I curried the horses, mucked the stalls, milked the cows, slopped the pigs, fed the chickens, loaded the manure spreader, and cleared the barnyard and chicken house." In this photograph David L. Brigham rides up front and younger brother Francis Snowden Brigham shares the hay rake with grandfather Francis Snowden at Ingleside in 1922.

Two teams pull plows at Ingleside, just south of Ashton; the 1855 home stands at right. Gussie Holland works the plow in foreground, while Ingleside farmer Francis Snowden supervises the annual plowing ritual.

The museum website had photographs of David, Arthur, and Francis Brigham but none of their sister Marjorie.

November 18, 2008

November 1969

My dad took walks in the woods with his boys. Word gems fell as often as hickory nuts. It is appropriate to recall now as we launch another venture for the League, "there are two ways to get to the top of an oak tree...you can either start climbing or you can sit on an acorn until you get there."

We are most pleased to be bringing the first edition of our Recreation Register to our members. We must depend on your interest, circulation efforts and advertising response to assure future issues.

Many local "editors" will have a hand in the tomorrow of these pages. Our well over 50 member associations have named those who will be reporting for them.

The "How it is Done" in one association will become the "How to Do It" for another. Each will be offering success stories to others seeking an new way to accomplish similar benefits for their association or membership.

SUBSTANTIAL ASSETS. So many have done so much in such a short time to give the League substance and strength. There have been generous donations of time, interest, effort, and grey matter.

The variation at this moment brings to mind Emerson's debate between the Mountain and the Squirrel. The mountain wanted it known he carried an entire forest upon his back, even the nut tree from which the squirrel ate. Who can forget the retort of the squirrel, "Yes, but you can't crack a nut."

SERVICES RENDERED. The League's sole "reason for being" is service to the membership. But, in order to fulfill its purpose, we, as any growing, thriving organization, must combine our scattered efforts.

Accordingly, the desire of the leadership is to establish a base from which to do for the members. Involvement with new ideas, up-to-the-minute needs, and suggestions for ways and means have been made the order of the day.

Good communication is the springboard from which the full potential of activity will be realized. All who have moments to spare are urged to participate in local employee associations and to stretch a little further into League participation.

Each one will have a little different approach, a slightly different talent or ability, and something special to offer. The main thrust is to have people doing and thinking. As you have thoughts or hopes, direct them to your officers, R&W Associations, League officials, or this publication.

VARIETY MOLDS. The beauty of a quilt or of an autumn landscape lies not so much in the individual patches and leaves. Rather the pattern and design and variety of color and shape make the difference.

So it is with the development of ideas, the contribution of energy and talent, the participation of each segment in the function of a "League" of folks. They come in assorted shapes and sizes. The ages vary almost from the teens to the seventies. The objectives, desires and interests are so diverse they cover, as no other group can, the cross section that makes America.

OUR POTENTIAL. The League is in its infancy of both existence and potential. Howe well those presently at the helm throw the challenge of participation to those who have not yet heard about or grasped the big image will determine how far and how fast the growth is to be.

Today a few labor for others that tomorrow they and thousands like them may be served. There are some who believe the lot, the morale and the recognition of the Federal employee can be improved. There are some willing to help bring the days of realization more rapidly to fruition. Are you? Will you?

Every voice speaks loudly to us. Every hand can lift a little, and every mind can project a thought. Together we grow...

David L. Brigham
Executive Director

November 13, 2008

An Introduction
























For Christmas in 1975, my grandfather--affectionately known to me as Gran--gave his family a collection of essays he had written as the Executive Director of the Recreation Register, a newspaper for Federal employees. The essays appeared monthly under the heading "Executive Etchings," and they span a period of more than a decade beginning in November 1969. Each subsequent Christmas for as long as he was Executive Director, Gran gave a supplement to the original collection. One supplement is labeled "Collectors Items" and another "Christmas Bonus." I like to think of these writings as a pre-internet blog because they provide a glimpse into my grandfather's life and times. And so, here is the preface he wrote to the collection (click on the image for a larger view):


IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER AGAIN...I'D LIVE MY LIFE OVER AGAIN!

I grew up hearing a Dad whom I admired like non I have ever known saying he would have no regrets if he should reach the end of his earthly road at a reasonably youn age. He reasoned that he experienced about three times as much real living in each twenty-four hours as the average man in three days. I now understand that thought for I also have lived three lives and more myself. There are no regrets and there is the bonus of having been given the opportunity to record in some small measure a fragment of a more than happy youth, a brimming young adulthood and a most satisfying tour through the mature years. The down side remains before me to be anticipated with real relish rather than fear.

To those who have in very large fashion been a warm, welcome and supporting part of this junket, I now dedicate and present touches of the past, a diary of events from one viewpoint, and a brush at some Americana as one life knew it over the last three score years - almost.

Those who shared this period with me will enjoy recalling. Those too young to have experienced all or most may be interested in how another generation lived, loved and survived. Perhaps this is one man's legacy, a trifle of heritage or just a warm heart spilling over. In any case it is for your who made the journey, wish you might have been along, or just find yourself willing to listen. Have fun!

David L. Brigham
Dec. 25, 1975

Handwritten by Gran at the bottom: To son Dave & Liz- My best critic and one who has lived the good life with us. -Mom & Dad