Mrs. Leonard Ross sent us a letter last week. Enclosed was a check for six months of The Dispatch and a year’s subscription to Catfish Alley. In a note with her check, Mrs. Ross wrote, “Have been subscribing to your paper since water!!! Keep it going to print!”
She also wrote, “Tell Birney to keep ‘Partial to Home’ articles going. Printed news very important for us ‘oldies,’ who are not ‘computer involved.'”
Mrs. Ross will be 94 in March.
While I am marginally ‘computer involved,’ I’ve not been able to find her phone number on the Internet or in a phone book, nor do three longtime Caledonia residents I call for such as this know her. Short of driving to her house in Bartahatchie, well north of downtown Caledonia, I’ve been at a loss as to how to contact Mrs. Ross.
Former Caledonia Mayor Walt Willis said that while my correspondent may have a Caledonia zip code, she lives in Monroe County and as such would have an Aberdeen number. Walt even went as far as to try to find Mrs. Ross’ number in his Monroe County phone book, without success. He explained why she would have a Caledonia zip code, something to do with postal delivery and a washed-out bridge.
Out of curiosity, I did a Google Map search for Mrs. Ross’ house. I wondered if Google Street View would have a picture. Through the miracle of technology I was able to get to the intersection of her road and Wolfe Road while sitting at my computer. The Google camera truck passed that way on a sunny day in April, 2014. Though it didn’t turn down Mrs. Ross’ road, I think I can see her house in the distance. The aerial view from Google Earth shows only one house on that lane.
Just past the turn to Mrs. Ross’, Street View has beautiful, clear images of a community center and a small cement block building painted white. You can just make out “Bartahatchie V.F.D.” on the block building. There’s a lone basketball goal on a strip of pavement between the fire house and community center.
No one is shooting hoops, but the Google camera truck did capture a passing motorist wearing a blue nylon windbreaker driving a white Ford Ranger pickup truck.
If I want to contact Mrs. Ross, I’m going to have write a letter or take a drive. I’ll know it when I get there.
Years ago early one foggy Sunday morning Beth and I passed what looked to be a homemade roadside sign. I stopped and took a picture.
We’ve talked about that sign any number of times since, and on the afternoon of New Year’s Day, we ventured out to see if we could find it. I’m hesitant to say where it is or what kind of sign it is, scavengers being what they are … and this one is a jewel.
With the help of my trusty Delorme atlas, we went right to it. Though we were shocked to see how small it had become. It was as though it had shrunk to half size. The picture I took on that first visit made it look monumental.
Several days later, back in the office, I wondered if I could find our sign on the omniscient Google Earth. The location is so obscure, I figured there was no way — after all there are no street views of Dillingham Lane — but sure enough there it was, that little sign. It blends in with the nearby woods, but if you know what you’re looking for …
There is something awe inspiring and sobering about technology that allows us to peer into virtually every corner of the Earth. Who knows what the drone-era will bring.
For now, I suppose, the main thing to remember is not to be out in the yard in your pajamas when the Google truck goes by.
Birney Imes III is the immediate past publisher of The Dispatch.
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