Known simply as The Wall, the Vietnam Veterans Memorial lists the names of over 58,000 soldiers who died in Southeast Asia during one of this country’s deadliest military conflicts. And behind each of these names is a story wating to be told…a story of patriotism, service to country, and sacrifice to the principles of democracy. There’s the story of the Edison 64 from Edison Hight School in Philadelphia, the dozen soldiers from Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church in Chicago, and the brotherhood of the Morenci 9 and the Midvale three.

Also appearing among the wall’s 70 black granite panels are the names of over 3,000 soldiers from Ohio, including eleven young men from one of Ohio’s least populated counties, Monroe County. Strikingly, over half of those soldiers from the county that died were from the small village of Beallsville…bestowing upon the village of less then 400 the unwanted distiction of having the highest per-capita casualty rate of any U.S. community during the conflict.

While other works may have been written about these eleven young men, those works only skimmed the surface of their lives. This work delves into the similarities of their young lives and the differences that brought about their untimely deaths.

Along with their families, these young men gave so much, and their stories need…no, they demand…to be told. Everyone Has a Story, and this is theirs.

…Just before sunset at 5:10pm, the light to the west exit of the bridge turns red. This causes the twenty-nine vehicles heading toward the Ohio side of the bridge to come to a standstill. Included in the line of vehicles are twenty-two cars, six tractor-trailers, and one pick-up truck. The last car in the line of traffic heading west is slightly east of the center of the bridge’s middle span. As for the eight vehicles heading east on the bridge, including six cars and two dump trucks, the traffic is moving. The total weight of all vehicles on the bridge is nearly 487,000 pounds. And then it happens…

First, there seems to be a cracking sound coming from an eyebar on the north side of the suspension structure and immediately to the west of the Ohio tower. One of the eyebars seems to have cracked and come loose from the others. When this happens, the bridge’s load is suddenly transferred to the adjoining eyebars. Momentarily, the pin holding the adjoining three eyebars and the vertical hangers comes free, releasing the eyebars from each other and causing the suspension chain to be severed. A collapse of the entire structure seems inevitable since all parts of the bridge’s suspension are in equilibrium. Following a slight pause, the bridge span west of the Ohio tower collapses. Some of the span falls onto the Ohio shore, and the remainder falls into the river. As the structure begins to collapse, it is believed that birds nesting on and under the bridge quickly fly away…

Death was not selective on December 15, 1967. That particular night it took males and females, young and old, locals and those merely passing through the area. Those that perished that cold December night were family members, neighbors, and co-workers. They were mothers and fathers with young children at home and looking forward to a festive Christmas. Among those names appearing on the chalkboard were young kids who had their whole life ahead of them, middle-aged workers who knew what it was like to do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay, and veterans who had served their country with honor. One loss is traumatic, but 46 of them at once?

What drew these sons of truck drivers, steel mill workers, convenience store owners, corporate accountants, and lifelong criminals to a small, liberal arts college in northern West Virginia? Was it the school’s rich history, excellent academics, or its reputation of producing graduates with character and values? Possibly. But ask any of the twenty-four players on the 1975 West Liberty State College team and they will answer with one word…baseball.

Written thru the perspective of one that was on the team and experienced first-hand the transforming power of baseball to shape lives, the book traces their initial season together as the members of the Hilltopper baseball team learn to navigate the demands of the classroom with the demands on the field.

In the end, it’s clear that baseball brought Mouseyboy, Frenchy, Stace, Fresh, Zaugger, and the other members of the ’75 baseball team to West Liberty, it was baseball that kept them at West Liberty, and it was baseball that played a major role in the accepting, responsible, and respectful kind of person these individuals have become in their adulthood. It truly was The Season That Was.

Rather than work from front to back, birth to resurrection, and simply record what they came to know about Jesus of Nazareth in an unbiased approach, the later gospel writers we know as Matthew, Luke, and John did just the opposite. They intentionally massaged and deliberately reconstructed Mark’s gospel to backfill the life of Jesus. Moreover, they used the elements of chronology, context, and cause to transform Jesus’ life, ministry, and resurrection into gospels that were more aligned with their particular theology of Jesus.

If nothing else, the differences, discrepancies, and inconsistencies found in their words lend credence to the belief that the later gospel writers were intentional in their efforts to transform the historical Jesus into the divine Christ.

“Thank goodness for a book that openly and honestly addresses the issues facing so many of today’s churches. Admittedly, it points out that there are factors out of our control but there are still so many things over which we do have control as church members and pastors. As an added bonus, there are practical and realistic suggestions given, as well. It is my hope that pastors and laity alike will read this book with an open and eager mindset. What a difference it could make in the lives of their churches!”

Rev. Leslie Etheredge Western Regional Minister FL
Conference, United Church of Christ

For several reasons, I would be wrong to tell you that I was born in the house my father built. Beyond spending a large part of his life in and out of jail, he never married my mother. The truth is I was born to a single parent and spent most of my years living with my five siblings in rented houses. What does this have to do with money management? Everything, because it clearly demonstrates that my mother was possibly the best money manager ever.

From her examples, I not only learned some simple tricks to make my money go further but how to become a better money manager myself. The methods she utilized during her lifetime and my life experiences have provided me a solid financial foundation. And now, I want to share all these techniques with you.