I had a mysterious encounter this morning at the post office.
It’s the kind of encounter at the post office that you can only have in a town like Crawfordsville. I’m in and out of post offices frequently enough to notice that if it’s a smaller town, either no one else will be there or else you already know everybody who would be there.
Or, if it is a larger city, no one knows anyone and you’re not likely to have anything mysterious like this happening. This was mysterious, in a good way. In a providential way. God provided it.
I was dressed in my clerical garb, which is certainly distinctive and sometimes draws attention, but this was special. I was standing in line. The only other person on my side of the counter was just finishing up. She turned and looked my way, just as anyone might who was finishing up at the post office, and said “Oh!”
I’m happy to talk to any stranger, but I’m shy about starting conversations, so at this exclamation, I perked up.
“What’s your name?” she asked, with a look like she was trying to remember, although I’m sure we never met before.
“Justin Miller,” I said, cheerfully enough.
“Were you trying to find my husband, Dick Munro? Do you know him?”
“No I wasn’t. I never met him, but we exchanged some emails several years ago. He’s one of my heroes!”
“Well, he died a few years ago.”
“Yes, I heard.”
By now the agent behind the counter, who it is evident she ain’t from ‘round here, was leaning in very interested in this encounter. Later she asked me for his name and title of his book.
I went on:
“I read his book Paddling Sugar Creek and I recommend it to everyone! Are you Betty? I heard about you from the book! I’m very happy to meet you!”
And I was. But then Betty had to get something off her chest:
“My husband gave his life to this county and did you know that when he passed, not one county official called on him or showed any thanks or honor?”
That’s sad. But you know, neither did I.
I’d like to make up for that with something of a tribute.
I returned home to Montgomery County after college days to settle down and raise a family near my parents and their farm so my children would grow up around their grandparents. Something I think Dick would have appreciated.
I got a job working for Gary Isenberg, another unsung hero of this community, and he’d often have the local radio station playing with “Guess Who” on the air.
Dick Munro “gave his life to this county” mostly on the radio. At least that’s how I first heard of him. The Community Focus program. Interviews with all kinds of people. Even my father!
I still remember working on a house near Jamestown in about 2001 or so, listening to Dick Munro just sort of turn the screws on my Dad about his involvement with pushing a city no-smoking ordinance. I admire them both for how they conducted that challenging interview.
Honestly, I didn’t listen to the radio that much. But even a little bit left a lasting impression. In 2013 I recognized he was making an announcement in the newspaper that he was hosting call-outs for a movie about Montgomery County. I emailed him about that, but was not interested after all. However, I did have an idea for a local podcast and I ran it by him. He gave me some encouraging but also sobering advice and the podcast hasn’t happened yet.
But before that, one way or another, I became aware of Dick’s epic adventure to be the only man who has canoed from the headwaters of Sugar Creek in a drainage ditch in Clinton County, all the way to the Wabash, and “lived to tell about it.” It truly was an adventure worth retelling and thankfully the hero himself has left us the story in his book of the very same title.
As far as I know, the book is still available at certain local sites as well as Amazon.com. I highly recommend it for the sharp, local (and quickly vanishing) wit and wisdom, local lore and geography, as well as bona fide history, not to mention a certain measure of opinionated commentary from a crotchety elder of the community who couldn’t help himself. He may not have been right about everything, but he made more of an effort than most and it is worth our attention.
So for Dick and Betty, for Sugar Creek and Montgomery County, for all those who remember him and know Betty, but haven’t called for a while or rightfully honored one of our own, for many who are new to the community and never heard of him, but also know there has got to be some pretty inspiring people behind such a special place, to my children, who went with me to see the fabled Scotland Bridge over Sugar Creek before it was replaced by concrete, to Mayor Todd Barton who ought to do a tribute podcast in his honor.
To all of you and more, I offer this bit of writing in honor of the man I only knew through writing and a bit of radio. And I leave you with his last words to me by email:
Good luck. And remember there are at least two good things that come from every bad venture. You learn what doesn’t work. And you gain another memory. Dick
Visit my Amazon review of Paddling Sugar Creek.
Fr. Deacon Justin Miller of Crawfordsville contributed this column to the Journal Review.
