As a result of my “Letters from Mom” project, I can conclude that I’ve been subscribing by mail to the Times-Observer for about 13 years. Now that I’ve transcribed her letters through most of 1998, I’ve discovered that she no longer encloses newspaper clippings, at least not from the Warren paper. (Yeah, I’ve kept most of these items, too. Perhaps I should have been an archivist in an historical society library rather than a director of a public library.)
She still occasionally draws attention to a particular news story, especially if it involved another budget cut at the Warren library, the closing of a once-popular business establishment, or the death of a member of St. Paul’s. (Not that there was never any upbeat news to come out of Warren!)
Junior Himes is someone I remember from about the time we first moved to Warren. I don’t think he, his wife Lois, and daughter Diane missed a Sunday service. For some reason, I picture them sitting in the same spot, week after week, toward the back of the right-hand side of the sanctuary in the old church. I can’t picture them in the new church, probably because I spent comparatively little time attending services there.
Junior would have been just 30 when we moved to Warren, but my memory of him has always been someone who looks much older than his actual years. While reading his obituary, I tried to recall the sound of his voice, but quickly realized that we probably never exchanged more than 10 words. Total. He certainly couldn’t have been a shy, retiring guy if he played the role of Santa Claus for 20 years. In the photo accompanying the obituary, there’s definitely a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a subtly sly smile on his face. Unlike much more outgoing church members like Mel Karlson, Bill Brader, and Howard Ford, I never got to know the man.
But at least one question has finally been answered. Yes, his first name really is “Junior”.
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