Dear Coach Tressel:

It is the morning of THE game: Ohio State vs. "That Team Up North." I am writing this prior to the contest deliberately, because it depends not a whit on the outcome. What I (and I suspect many others) want you to know is that--regardless of the final score a few hours hence--you have done Ohio proud.

Don't get me wrong. I will soon be at the edge of my seat, biting my nails and rooting hard for an OSU victory. But I am not a football fanatic. Far from it. I don't live and die with the successes and failures of regional teams or athletes.

And, though I was born and raised in Cleveland (and spent most of my first quarter-century there), I have lived nearly all of my last 25 years as a Berean. I am proud of my affiliation with both cities.

No, it is not a common love of football or a sameness of geography that moves me to pull for you. It is the way you conduct yourself. You appear to balance your passion for gridiron victory with a quiet dignity. A belief in a way of life that transcends football.

I was privileged to know your father Lee a little, and your mother Eloise a little more. I see much of them in you. As anyone who knew your parents can attest, that is a very good thing indeed.

It mystifies me that people like Bill Livingston of The Plain Dealer seem to root against you; he actually used the term "culpable" in describing your coaching performance 8 or 10 victories into a season that had thus far included no defeats. Remarkable. While I don't think reporters should be "homers," neither do I think they should be the opposite. Perhaps Livingston is still trying to justify his initial assessment that OSU had "settled" [sic] for "the local guy."

Whatever.

If this afternoon's endeavors leave you jubilant, you will need no boost from me or anyone else. If things don't quite go your way, please know this: we are proud of you. And the outcome of a football game--no matter how big--can ever change that.

To whom it may concern,

I am looking for a half-sister. I lost track of her in 1970. At that time her name was Lois Snyder and her address was 354 Sprague Road, Berea, Ohio. Do you have anything that may have a forwarding address on it such as a voter registration card Ect.

It's so hard to search for someone in unfamiliar surroundings. Perhaps the number in the address has changed because of E911.

Please can anyone help??

(Any resemblance to actual events is unintended, and purely coincidental)

There once was a girl (let's call her Rea Coons) in the Land of Cleves who longed to become a star in the field of journalism. She hung Barbara Wa Wa's poster over her bed; she religiously read the Nashunal Quirer from "kiver to kiver" to learn the tricks of the trade.

One day opportunity struck: a gig writing for the Ordinary Dealer. Kowabunga, dudes!

Assigned to a Public Affairs beat, Rea determined that she would go after The Big Story. The Watergate, if you will, of Bee Town. She held her journalistic nose high in the air and sniffed, "There's a story here; I can just smell it."

She waited and she watched, her reporter's eyes peeled wide.

She observed as Bee Town's king alienated his subjects. She looked on as he realized one day that his reign was in jeopardy (his clue being the torch-bearing, tar- and feathers-toting mob forming just beyond the castle moat.)

An astute observer of human nature, the king figured this might not bode well. "I know," he said, "I'll step down from the throne and install a trusted aid: King Lite. I can still rule from behind the curtain, and the people will never know the difference." And they didn't.

The soon-to-be deposed king offered his long-time financial backer to manage Lite's campaign for the throne, and even his own, very public endorsement. Still, the people were none the wiser as Lite proclaimed: "I'm my own man."

You can guess what happened next. Sure enough, the fishes, er, subjects, bought it hook, line, and sinker: Lite ascended to the throne. The former king stands today behind the curtain, elbow to elbow with his financier and chuckles at the gullibility of "the average Joe." The financier even went so far as to install a relative into a well-paying position in Lite's administration, and still the masses did not revolt.

Of course, there's always one grumbler out there. You know the type: some guy who just won't "get with the program." The sorehead -- R. Rouser -- has taken to routinely attending royal meetings and attempting to expose his "sour grapes" to sunshine. This troubles King Lite, the former king, and the financier's whole family, of course.

And it also awakened the Edward R. Murrow in Rea Coons. "Aha," she shouted. "There's my story!"

Giddy with excitement, Rea took her pen to parchment and exposed the scandal for all to read: "Bee Town Council President permits sore-headed loser to beat dead horse at public meetings."

Those boys and girls at the Ordinary Dealer sure are the Fourth Estate's finest; they don't miss a thing.

Ah, freedom of speech. You gotta love it.

The Nelson Mandela International Gold Medal Leadership Award in Human Rights will be awarded to:
Ione Biggs of Cleveland, Ohio
Renate Jakupca of Berea, Ohio
National Co-Directors of the US Network for the Conference Against Racism

Calvary Lutheran Church
13101 Euclid Avenue
Cleveland, Ohio

February 10, 2002
3:00 p.m. to 5:30 p.m.
with a reception to follow

Does anyone in Berea know why I get a water bill that breaks down water usage and sewer usage and then days later I still get a seperate sewer bill?