Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 75
March 8, 2016
Here Comes the Bride, Next Year
You’ll never guess what my youngest daughter, who’s get married, is getting. That’s right—married! You guessed!
Looks like it’s going to be a little over a year from now, during which time she’ll probably be engaged in engagement things. Congrats, Jill! I’m just as ready for this as I was for my oldest daughter’s wedding, so I’m not.
Looks like it’s going to be a little over a year from now, during which time she’ll probably be engaged in engagement things. Congrats, Jill! I’m just as ready for this as I was for my oldest daughter’s wedding, so I’m not.
March 3, 2016
Promotional Pause Results
During that horrendous month, February, I avoided promoting my books (but it’s March, so buy me!) It was to get some sense of what selling efforts were doing, or not doing, at least in some areas—those areas being direct sales and Amazon.
The results: four confirmed sales in February, which is once a week … about the same amount of times my winter hatred took over and I started to drive south until I hit salt water.
There were no personally sold copies, what with no book signings or other events. Amazon BookScan showed two sales in February: One My Funny Valentine, and two Images of America. These are print book sales, and according to Amazon represent around 75% of a writer’s retail print book sales in the U.S.
The Amazon Author Rank seemed to show one sale of Images of America during February (plus one on January 31st). Sadly, despite my promise to post a cute photo of my dog whenever a copy of Slightly Off the Mark sold, the only other book Amazon counted in February was My Funny Valentine.
Now, that book did great: In fact, it broke the top 100, and stayed above 10,000 for much of the first half of the month … and then dropped through the floor right after Valentine’s Day, which isn’t a huge shock.
But counting My Funny Valentine is a cheat, and not only because it’s a Valentine’s Day themed book selling just before Valentine’s Day. It’s true that I didn’t promote it during February, but it’s an anthology. At least two of the other writers who contributed did promote the work, which explains why it made so many sales. Also, the e-book version is free.
Removing that book, Amazon shows my total February sales as three copies, all Images of America. The previous February, BookScan shows two sales, both My Funny Valentine.
However, in 2013 (when I had far fewer books under my belt) my Amazon ranking peaked at 28,370 in February. In February of 2014, it peaked at 6,093, while in 2015 it never got better than 399,000 during the month. This February my top rank, with no promotion, was just over 155,000, even though others promoted one of the books that counted toward that ranking.
In fact, in 2013 and 2014 my top Amazon ranking for the entire year was in February. My conclusion is that the lousy 2015 ranking was a glitch, and that my lack of promotion did indeed make a difference—at least a modest one.
This is hardly a scientific investigation: Many in the industry question the accuracy of Amazon’s surveys, not to mention that’s far from the only place to buy books. Still, I’m going to go back to doing promotion, and investigate new avenues to push the product.
I love writing … and also creature comforts like electricity, internet, and chocolate. I’ll continue to do my best to bring those two together.
The results: four confirmed sales in February, which is once a week … about the same amount of times my winter hatred took over and I started to drive south until I hit salt water.
There were no personally sold copies, what with no book signings or other events. Amazon BookScan showed two sales in February: One My Funny Valentine, and two Images of America. These are print book sales, and according to Amazon represent around 75% of a writer’s retail print book sales in the U.S.
The Amazon Author Rank seemed to show one sale of Images of America during February (plus one on January 31st). Sadly, despite my promise to post a cute photo of my dog whenever a copy of Slightly Off the Mark sold, the only other book Amazon counted in February was My Funny Valentine.
Now, that book did great: In fact, it broke the top 100, and stayed above 10,000 for much of the first half of the month … and then dropped through the floor right after Valentine’s Day, which isn’t a huge shock.
But counting My Funny Valentine is a cheat, and not only because it’s a Valentine’s Day themed book selling just before Valentine’s Day. It’s true that I didn’t promote it during February, but it’s an anthology. At least two of the other writers who contributed did promote the work, which explains why it made so many sales. Also, the e-book version is free.
Removing that book, Amazon shows my total February sales as three copies, all Images of America. The previous February, BookScan shows two sales, both My Funny Valentine.
However, in 2013 (when I had far fewer books under my belt) my Amazon ranking peaked at 28,370 in February. In February of 2014, it peaked at 6,093, while in 2015 it never got better than 399,000 during the month. This February my top rank, with no promotion, was just over 155,000, even though others promoted one of the books that counted toward that ranking.
In fact, in 2013 and 2014 my top Amazon ranking for the entire year was in February. My conclusion is that the lousy 2015 ranking was a glitch, and that my lack of promotion did indeed make a difference—at least a modest one.
This is hardly a scientific investigation: Many in the industry question the accuracy of Amazon’s surveys, not to mention that’s far from the only place to buy books. Still, I’m going to go back to doing promotion, and investigate new avenues to push the product.
I love writing … and also creature comforts like electricity, internet, and chocolate. I’ll continue to do my best to bring those two together.
March 1, 2016
Leap Day Laptop
I can’t help thinking it’s no coincidence that my laptop stopped working on February 29th: It’s the last “screw you” from a bad month.
But in fairness, it’s also a first world problem. I still have a tablet, which I’d intended to only use when away from home and electricity. I also still have a Mac laptop, effectively my desktop computer because it’s allergic to batteries. As is often the case with modern society, we shouldn’t complain—but will anyway.
Anyway, that means it’s March, which means my pause in promotion is over. I’ll let you know the results later, but meanwhile … buy my books!
Postscript: Just after I wrote this, at about 1:30 a.m. March 1st, I received a rejection e-mail for Radio Red. This tells us two things: Editors are overworked, and things aren’t looking up for March.
But in fairness, it’s also a first world problem. I still have a tablet, which I’d intended to only use when away from home and electricity. I also still have a Mac laptop, effectively my desktop computer because it’s allergic to batteries. As is often the case with modern society, we shouldn’t complain—but will anyway.
Anyway, that means it’s March, which means my pause in promotion is over. I’ll let you know the results later, but meanwhile … buy my books!
Postscript: Just after I wrote this, at about 1:30 a.m. March 1st, I received a rejection e-mail for Radio Red. This tells us two things: Editors are overworked, and things aren’t looking up for March.
February 29, 2016
Rest in Peace
Goodbye to Cholene Anderson, who was heavily involved in the Noble County Relay for Life and who had a great heart. If my sometimes failing memory serves, she was my study hall supervisor in high school, and sent in Merriam news items many years ago to our local newspaper.
Also goodbye to Bob Gagen. He published the Noble County American for many, many years, and also served as Noble County Historian—I job I didn’t appreciate until he’d already passed it on to his daughter. The American printed the school newspaper I wrote for, Cat Tracks, and I remember going up to remove the Cat Tracks pages from the American printings and stack them together.
I found out about both of those deaths within minutes of each other, which amplified the shock.
Meanwhile, everyone’s little friend Izzy has had a return visit from her cancer and is once again undergoing treatment at St. Jude, so the challenges continue for Sonja Elliott and her family.
I’m just going to put this out there: 2016 has sucked so far.
Also goodbye to Bob Gagen. He published the Noble County American for many, many years, and also served as Noble County Historian—I job I didn’t appreciate until he’d already passed it on to his daughter. The American printed the school newspaper I wrote for, Cat Tracks, and I remember going up to remove the Cat Tracks pages from the American printings and stack them together.
I found out about both of those deaths within minutes of each other, which amplified the shock.
Meanwhile, everyone’s little friend Izzy has had a return visit from her cancer and is once again undergoing treatment at St. Jude, so the challenges continue for Sonja Elliott and her family.
I’m just going to put this out there: 2016 has sucked so far.
February 24, 2016
Hoosier Winters, On the Nose
It’s almost March (yay!), but the February 4County Mall can still be found for free in newspaper stands around the area, including outside Albion Village Foods. (Sadly, I got my copy at the entrance to Parkview Noble Hospital.) In addition to this column, the fun page, and all the deals and coupons, you can read a piece about Valentine’s Day by Lydia Waring and fiction by Rita Robbins and Nick Hayden. On the website is also a new piece by Rief Gillg, Assistant Principal at East Noble High School.
http://www.4countymall.com/mark-hunte...
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
We like our traditions here in northern Indiana: For instance, it’s traditional for us to get sick every fall and winter. All of us.
I’m as traditional as the next guy, assuming the next guy is a Hoosier, so a few years ago I decided to take it up a notch. No annual cold or flu for me, no sir! I tried strep throat but didn’t like it very much, because without a voice I couldn’t whine. So, I went for the sinus infection. Sure enough, it became as traditional as that bowl of can-shaped cranberries nobody eats at Thanksgiving.
Then I started getting three or four of them every winter—sinus infections, not cranberries. Turns out not all traditions are so great.
Now, I’m not going to go into detail about my sinus surgery, because the details are all disgusting. I once wrote a column about my prostate biopsy, and that set a high bar, but a sinusotomy has it beat. The recovery period was nothing but two weeks of “ow” and “ick”.
Still, when it was over I basked in the knowledge that my chronic illnesses would soon be a thing of the past.
Then I caught a cold.
That cold immediately settled into a sinus infection.
See, here’s the thing: It takes from twelve weeks to a year for sinuses to settle down and actually improve after sinus surgery. Until then, you’re just as prone to problems as you were before. Although by the end of a few weeks my breathing seemed better, that just made it easier for viruses to work their way up and have a party. And it was a wild party.
My wife looks after my health, by which I mean she keeps me warm, feeds me good food, and lectures me. “Drink lots of fluids. Are you taking extra vitamin C? Don’t forget the fluids. Here’s some hot tea with honey, and Echinacea. Are you drinking fluids?”
“I think I hear the dog calling your name.”
The dog wasn’t. In fact, the dog was laying at my feet, because he tends to stay close whenever he thinks I’m dying.
My doctor had a more aggressive treatment in mind. When he learned I had still another sinus infection, he gave instructions for the nurse to bring a certain type of antibiotic. The nurse replied, “Let me remove the breakables from the treatment room first, and bring in some restraints.”
Possibly I should have seen that as a warning.
My doctor is an old military man, and he explained his reasoning. “We need to keep at this until all the dogs are dead.”
“Wait, what? But I like my dog.”
“I don’t mean literally. I used to say we needed to keep at it until all the cats are dead, but people complained.”
Apparently dog owners are more laid back than cat owners. That makes sense, as dogs are more laid back than cats.
The nurse brought in two needles. “This is going to hurt.”
“No problem.” I pulled up my shirtsleeve.
“That’s not where we give it.”
I had to lay down on the treatment table—on my belly, which tells you where the shot goes. I couldn’t just bend over, because apparently this shot sometimes makes you faint. She put the first one in.
“Hey, that’s not so—aaaaauuuuggghhhhHHHH!!!!!!”
“Okay, now let’s do the other one.”
It took a day and a half for the pain to ease. I couldn’t crouch down. I couldn’t climb stairs. I couldn’t sit back against anything. Two days later I went back to the doc, who gave me a careful examination.
“Well, we’d better keep at this.”
He meant two more shots. I knew this because of the way the nurse winced when he said it. I have to admit, though, she’s got a really strong grip for patients who try to run away.
Meanwhile I still got the antibiotics by pill, which have their own issues, but at least they don’t cause people to reminisce about when they got stabbed in college. Eventually my own stabbing, the stabbing pain in my forehead, began to ease, and as I write this it’s down to a four out of ten, with watching a presidential debate being ten. The treatment was working, and metaphorical dogs and cats were dropping like flies.
Then my wife caught my cold.
I sat her down on the recliner and brought her a cup of hot tea and a box of Kleenex, while the dog laid at her feet in what I can only call a faithful deathwatch. Then I said lovingly:
“Drink lots of fluids. Are you taking extra vitamin C? Don’t forget the fluids. Here’s some hot tea with honey, and Echinacea. Are you drinking fluids?”
And that’s when she threw the Kleenex box at me. She’s a pretty good shot, too—hit me right on my sore hip.
Good thing she didn’t reach for the tea cup.
http://www.4countymall.com/mark-hunte...
SLIGHTLY OFF THE MARK
We like our traditions here in northern Indiana: For instance, it’s traditional for us to get sick every fall and winter. All of us.
I’m as traditional as the next guy, assuming the next guy is a Hoosier, so a few years ago I decided to take it up a notch. No annual cold or flu for me, no sir! I tried strep throat but didn’t like it very much, because without a voice I couldn’t whine. So, I went for the sinus infection. Sure enough, it became as traditional as that bowl of can-shaped cranberries nobody eats at Thanksgiving.
Then I started getting three or four of them every winter—sinus infections, not cranberries. Turns out not all traditions are so great.
Now, I’m not going to go into detail about my sinus surgery, because the details are all disgusting. I once wrote a column about my prostate biopsy, and that set a high bar, but a sinusotomy has it beat. The recovery period was nothing but two weeks of “ow” and “ick”.
Still, when it was over I basked in the knowledge that my chronic illnesses would soon be a thing of the past.
Then I caught a cold.
That cold immediately settled into a sinus infection.
See, here’s the thing: It takes from twelve weeks to a year for sinuses to settle down and actually improve after sinus surgery. Until then, you’re just as prone to problems as you were before. Although by the end of a few weeks my breathing seemed better, that just made it easier for viruses to work their way up and have a party. And it was a wild party.
My wife looks after my health, by which I mean she keeps me warm, feeds me good food, and lectures me. “Drink lots of fluids. Are you taking extra vitamin C? Don’t forget the fluids. Here’s some hot tea with honey, and Echinacea. Are you drinking fluids?”
“I think I hear the dog calling your name.”
The dog wasn’t. In fact, the dog was laying at my feet, because he tends to stay close whenever he thinks I’m dying.
My doctor had a more aggressive treatment in mind. When he learned I had still another sinus infection, he gave instructions for the nurse to bring a certain type of antibiotic. The nurse replied, “Let me remove the breakables from the treatment room first, and bring in some restraints.”
Possibly I should have seen that as a warning.
My doctor is an old military man, and he explained his reasoning. “We need to keep at this until all the dogs are dead.”
“Wait, what? But I like my dog.”
“I don’t mean literally. I used to say we needed to keep at it until all the cats are dead, but people complained.”
Apparently dog owners are more laid back than cat owners. That makes sense, as dogs are more laid back than cats.
The nurse brought in two needles. “This is going to hurt.”
“No problem.” I pulled up my shirtsleeve.
“That’s not where we give it.”
I had to lay down on the treatment table—on my belly, which tells you where the shot goes. I couldn’t just bend over, because apparently this shot sometimes makes you faint. She put the first one in.
“Hey, that’s not so—aaaaauuuuggghhhhHHHH!!!!!!”
“Okay, now let’s do the other one.”
It took a day and a half for the pain to ease. I couldn’t crouch down. I couldn’t climb stairs. I couldn’t sit back against anything. Two days later I went back to the doc, who gave me a careful examination.
“Well, we’d better keep at this.”
He meant two more shots. I knew this because of the way the nurse winced when he said it. I have to admit, though, she’s got a really strong grip for patients who try to run away.
Meanwhile I still got the antibiotics by pill, which have their own issues, but at least they don’t cause people to reminisce about when they got stabbed in college. Eventually my own stabbing, the stabbing pain in my forehead, began to ease, and as I write this it’s down to a four out of ten, with watching a presidential debate being ten. The treatment was working, and metaphorical dogs and cats were dropping like flies.
Then my wife caught my cold.
I sat her down on the recliner and brought her a cup of hot tea and a box of Kleenex, while the dog laid at her feet in what I can only call a faithful deathwatch. Then I said lovingly:
“Drink lots of fluids. Are you taking extra vitamin C? Don’t forget the fluids. Here’s some hot tea with honey, and Echinacea. Are you drinking fluids?”
And that’s when she threw the Kleenex box at me. She’s a pretty good shot, too—hit me right on my sore hip.
Good thing she didn’t reach for the tea cup.
February 21, 2016
Mom Update
In addition to a particularly rough case of pneumonia, the doctors are now saying Mom had a stroke at some point during this whole process. She’s now got a partial blockage of a carotid artery and is experiencing bad headaches and double vision—not to mention still having to recover from the knee replacement. She’s going to be seeing a neurologist at some point in the very near future, and otherwise it’s a waiting game for now … we’ll pass it on as soon as we know more.
February 20, 2016
Mommy Issues
Often I compose my social media posts in the wee hours of the morning, then set them to post in the afternoon, when more people might be reading them. So it was early Friday, when I wrote about how my mom Linda Taylor had knee replacement surgery, and was recovering and undergoing rehab at North Ridge Village Nursing and Rehab in Albion.
By the time those posts actually came out, she was in the emergency room at Parkview Noble Hospital. I didn’t get a chance to cancel the posts because that’s where we headed, too. It’s been kind of a long week.
They thought she might have a pulmonary embolism. In short, that’s a Very Bad Thing. Her oxygen saturation was way too low, among other things, and to make matters worse they quickly determined she had an infection, and pumped about twenty different antibiotics into her at the same time. (I’m exaggerating, slightly.)
The next morning we had word that it’s a bad case of pneumonia. It might be, in fact, the first time in history that a pneumonia diagnosis was actually a relief. The sudden onset was certainly a shock. She’s getting better, but still having problems with double vision that they haven’t quite figured out.
So … that’s been our weekend. I don’t know how long she’ll be in the hospital, but she still needs some time back at North Ridge while her rehab is going on—either way, visits, cards, and letters would be much appreciated.
By the time those posts actually came out, she was in the emergency room at Parkview Noble Hospital. I didn’t get a chance to cancel the posts because that’s where we headed, too. It’s been kind of a long week.
They thought she might have a pulmonary embolism. In short, that’s a Very Bad Thing. Her oxygen saturation was way too low, among other things, and to make matters worse they quickly determined she had an infection, and pumped about twenty different antibiotics into her at the same time. (I’m exaggerating, slightly.)
The next morning we had word that it’s a bad case of pneumonia. It might be, in fact, the first time in history that a pneumonia diagnosis was actually a relief. The sudden onset was certainly a shock. She’s getting better, but still having problems with double vision that they haven’t quite figured out.
So … that’s been our weekend. I don’t know how long she’ll be in the hospital, but she still needs some time back at North Ridge while her rehab is going on—either way, visits, cards, and letters would be much appreciated.
February 18, 2016
Fire and Author List Updates
We’ve heard from ten authors so far who expressed interest in an appearance at the ALL-IN block party June 25th on the Noble County Courthouse square … and I’ve got contact information on five more who I hope to hear from soon. Anyone with a Noble County connection who’s published a book is welcome, but I’m hearing there’s limited space, so hopefully we’ll firm up the final list soon.
Meanwhile we’re up to 129 names of present and former Albion firefighters for the honorary plaque to go in the fire station. That includes 15 chiefs! Not all at the same time, of course. I still have some records to check, and I’m sure there are still more people to hear from with names, or lists of names, they remember from Albion’s 125+ years of volunteer firefighting history.
Considering my horrible memory, I’m also sure I’ll have some head slapping moments: “I can’t believe I forgot that name!”
It helped that there were dozens of volunteers mentioned in Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or so With the Albion Fire Department, from my previous research … including the entire membership of the Hook & Ladder company in 1888. Nice to have a head start.
Meanwhile we’re up to 129 names of present and former Albion firefighters for the honorary plaque to go in the fire station. That includes 15 chiefs! Not all at the same time, of course. I still have some records to check, and I’m sure there are still more people to hear from with names, or lists of names, they remember from Albion’s 125+ years of volunteer firefighting history.
Considering my horrible memory, I’m also sure I’ll have some head slapping moments: “I can’t believe I forgot that name!”
It helped that there were dozens of volunteers mentioned in Smoky Days and Sleepless Nights: A Century or so With the Albion Fire Department, from my previous research … including the entire membership of the Hook & Ladder company in 1888. Nice to have a head start.
February 14, 2016
Epic Fail, Also Called Valentine's Day
Unfortunately for me, Valentine’s Day comes during a time of year in which I don’t do well. I’ve said before that the only good thing about February is that it isn’t January, but let’s face it: they’re not all that different.
The best way to describe most men on this dedicated-to-love holiday is: epic fail. This is two steps beyond complete fail, which is itself three steps below just fail. As a result, any store that’s open the morning of Valentine’s Day is sure to see an influx of desperate, rather dazed looking men, searching for flowers or chocolate. If they can’t find a place open with Valentine chocolate, there’s always the corner convenience store.
“Let’s see … what’s more romantic, Baby Ruth or Milky Way? Say, do you have any wrapping paper here? No? I’ll just use the real estate listings, they’re a little colorful.”
My wife is not a fan of flowers, and is allergic to milk chocolate. She also doesn’t like to go out to eat, citing the expense and the crowds on a holiday. At first glance that seems like a great thing. But it takes away all the emergency “I’m in trouble” backups.
Now, you may be thinking, “But Mark, what does she get you for Valentine’s Day?”
If you’re thinking that, you’re a man.
Valentine’s Day, like weddings, is for the woman. The man’s job is to show up, look fairly nice, and make her the center of the day. With weddings men can usually focus just well enough to handle that for a day, having been around the planning stuff for months beforehand. With Valentine’s Day, the word “planning” puts them on life support.
I love my wife. I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t love her. The idea of marriage for convenience ignores the fact that making a successful marriage isn’t convenient at all. And yet, as each holiday approaches, I utterly freeze up. I stink at shopping. I stink at picking out cards. And—this coming from a man who actually writes romantic comedies—I stink at being romantic.
The fact that most men have the same affliction is in no way an excuse.
At least, that’s what I assume my wife would say, if I was dumb enough to ask her.
My conclusion—and guys, you can all benefit from my hard-won wisdom—is this:
Being a man is no excuse. Suck it up, fellas. If, like me, you can’t seem to function during winter, try this: Go out in the summer and buy a bunch of generic presents. It’s your job to find out what your wife likes, I can’t help you with that. Figure it out, buy a bunch of them, and hide them away somewhere. When you hit that inevitable panic point—and you will—and realize the holiday happens to fall on a Sunday and there’s no store close enough for you to sneak out to, don’t gift her a zippo lighter from the Sunoco station. No, break into your horde of presents, and—surprise!—you’re a hero.
That’s what I’m going to do. Next year. This year, wish me luck.
The best way to describe most men on this dedicated-to-love holiday is: epic fail. This is two steps beyond complete fail, which is itself three steps below just fail. As a result, any store that’s open the morning of Valentine’s Day is sure to see an influx of desperate, rather dazed looking men, searching for flowers or chocolate. If they can’t find a place open with Valentine chocolate, there’s always the corner convenience store.
“Let’s see … what’s more romantic, Baby Ruth or Milky Way? Say, do you have any wrapping paper here? No? I’ll just use the real estate listings, they’re a little colorful.”
My wife is not a fan of flowers, and is allergic to milk chocolate. She also doesn’t like to go out to eat, citing the expense and the crowds on a holiday. At first glance that seems like a great thing. But it takes away all the emergency “I’m in trouble” backups.
Now, you may be thinking, “But Mark, what does she get you for Valentine’s Day?”
If you’re thinking that, you’re a man.
Valentine’s Day, like weddings, is for the woman. The man’s job is to show up, look fairly nice, and make her the center of the day. With weddings men can usually focus just well enough to handle that for a day, having been around the planning stuff for months beforehand. With Valentine’s Day, the word “planning” puts them on life support.
I love my wife. I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t love her. The idea of marriage for convenience ignores the fact that making a successful marriage isn’t convenient at all. And yet, as each holiday approaches, I utterly freeze up. I stink at shopping. I stink at picking out cards. And—this coming from a man who actually writes romantic comedies—I stink at being romantic.
The fact that most men have the same affliction is in no way an excuse.
At least, that’s what I assume my wife would say, if I was dumb enough to ask her.
My conclusion—and guys, you can all benefit from my hard-won wisdom—is this:
Being a man is no excuse. Suck it up, fellas. If, like me, you can’t seem to function during winter, try this: Go out in the summer and buy a bunch of generic presents. It’s your job to find out what your wife likes, I can’t help you with that. Figure it out, buy a bunch of them, and hide them away somewhere. When you hit that inevitable panic point—and you will—and realize the holiday happens to fall on a Sunday and there’s no store close enough for you to sneak out to, don’t gift her a zippo lighter from the Sunoco station. No, break into your horde of presents, and—surprise!—you’re a hero.
That’s what I’m going to do. Next year. This year, wish me luck.
February 13, 2016
Looking To List All Albion Firefighters
The Albion Fire Department has decided to honor its past and present members, by displaying in the firehouse a plaque with all their names. I’m talking all their names, from our entire 125 (or so) year history.
I, being the AFD’s official historian (I made that up, but it could happen), have been tasked with gathering those names. Why? Well, being determined to someday write full time gave me experience at chasing impossible dreams.
So while it might be difficult to find out who manned the hook and ladder in 1905, I’m taking a shot at it—and I need your help. Yeah, I’m pointing at you.
Everyone please spread the word around, and send me the names of all the Albion firefighters you remember or heard of. (Not Mark Hunter—I know about him.) We’re looking for (naturally) names, but also years of service. For instance, for me it would be 1980-2019, which is when my warranty is due to run out. Or at least a partial range: For instance, I have Harry Campbell down as 1935-1952, but that’s not his entire firefighting career—it’s the years when he was chief. Or, if someone’s heard a number instead of a range, I’ll use that: An example would be, say, Jacob, Phil: 63 years of service. (Obviously just a name is better than nothing.)
That’s for the plaque. I’d also like to have on record the highest rank achieved, for historical purposes. Or at least the highest rank known, in the case of long ago. As still another example, I have: Epp, John: known year of service, 1888. Highest rank, Foreman of the Hook & Ladder apparatus.
See how easy that is? I only had to spend days going through old newspaper microfilms for that one.
So please, send me all the names you can remember, and hopefully the rest of that stuff. Also, if you live in Albion, Illinois, and have never heard of Albion, Indiana, you can disregard this now that you’ve read the whole thing.
Message me here, or use my website contact form at http://markrhunter.com/contact.php ... Or, my e-mail address and home phone numbers really aren’t that hard to track down. If you tried a gmail.com address that had markrichardhunter @ the beginning of it …
I, being the AFD’s official historian (I made that up, but it could happen), have been tasked with gathering those names. Why? Well, being determined to someday write full time gave me experience at chasing impossible dreams.
So while it might be difficult to find out who manned the hook and ladder in 1905, I’m taking a shot at it—and I need your help. Yeah, I’m pointing at you.
Everyone please spread the word around, and send me the names of all the Albion firefighters you remember or heard of. (Not Mark Hunter—I know about him.) We’re looking for (naturally) names, but also years of service. For instance, for me it would be 1980-2019, which is when my warranty is due to run out. Or at least a partial range: For instance, I have Harry Campbell down as 1935-1952, but that’s not his entire firefighting career—it’s the years when he was chief. Or, if someone’s heard a number instead of a range, I’ll use that: An example would be, say, Jacob, Phil: 63 years of service. (Obviously just a name is better than nothing.)
That’s for the plaque. I’d also like to have on record the highest rank achieved, for historical purposes. Or at least the highest rank known, in the case of long ago. As still another example, I have: Epp, John: known year of service, 1888. Highest rank, Foreman of the Hook & Ladder apparatus.
See how easy that is? I only had to spend days going through old newspaper microfilms for that one.
So please, send me all the names you can remember, and hopefully the rest of that stuff. Also, if you live in Albion, Illinois, and have never heard of Albion, Indiana, you can disregard this now that you’ve read the whole thing.
Message me here, or use my website contact form at http://markrhunter.com/contact.php ... Or, my e-mail address and home phone numbers really aren’t that hard to track down. If you tried a gmail.com address that had markrichardhunter @ the beginning of it …
