 Photo: Philip D. Weiser and Wilma E. (Smith) Weiser Philip D. Weiser and the Office of Special Grants Philip Weiser was a special man. He taught me everything I know about politics….which is considerable. He was a storyteller and an iconoclast. In 1977, I got a job with the State of Ohio. Like all mothers, it was hard for me to go back to work because I had three teenage daughters and a four-year-old at home. Initially I worked for the Office of Manpower Development as a planner. I got the job because I could write and actually understand Federal Regulations….which nobody on earth can understand because they are written by many people and often contradictory. I worked there for three years before Phil Weiser saw me shopping at Eastland Mall. I was returning skates that my girls had received for Christmas. Phil was people watching while his wife shopped at Lazarus. He said I looked like a mother duck with my daughters all following along behind. Anyway, he was a people person and later asked me if I would come to work for him in the Office of Special Grants (as second in command). I decided to take him up on the offer. It was a fun ride in more ways than one. We had board meetings in the conference room once a month and sometimes when they were over, the dining room was closed. There were no food vendors nearby. Phil and one of my co-workers, Don Kauffman, would jump in Phil’s car and go to lunch. I was left out in the cold with no lunch. Phil had an old Chevy that he drove from Heath/Newark, Ohio every day. He never washed it and let the dirt accumulate on the back license plate. The numbers couldn’t even be seen and that was purposeful. Anyway, I got tired of these guys ignoring me so after a board meeting one morning, I decided to remedy this situation. I went out to my boss’s car and said, “I have decided to go to lunch with you guys today.” I got in the back seat before they could get in the front seat. It was a huge mistake! When I sat down I realized that I had dirt from the back seat all over the back my white blouse and navy skirt. As we drove off, the two men started laughing. Phil said, “I drive my car on weekends with the windows down and my dog is the only one that rides in the back seat”. We arrived at Wendy’s for lunch. When we got out of the car, the two men started to brush me off so we wouldn’t be embarrassed when they realized they couldn’t do that and besides people were looking at us. We had a very dusty lunch. I never did that again. I’m sure that Phil Weiser told that story over and over and is in heaven still laughing about it today. P.S. – The stories of Phil and Don don't end here. To read more, visit their Find a Grave pages below: Philip Dean Weiser Donald Stanford Kauffman ©Marilyn Francis Ferguson 2025 Graphics by Michele Ferguson Schuck
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Back Row L-R: Billy Rudd, Jeff Murphy, oldest daughter of Jose Belarmino, Melinda Ferguson.
Front Row L-R: Belarmino twins, Michele Ferguson, neighbor Ieda. New Year’s Eve at the Brazilian Chapel Church Rudolfo Friesen was the pastor of the Chapel Church when we first went to Londrina, Brazil. His wife Raquel and children, Raquelzinha (little Raquel) and Juninho (little Junior), became good friends of mine. They lived on the seminary compound. Pastor Rudolfo was also the seminary Dean of Men. We became good friends because we were about the same age and had small children about the same age. Raquelzinha was Melodie’s age. When we first moved on campus, Manuel, the seminary handyman, drove Melodie and Raquelzinha in the “Kombi” (Volkswagen bus) to Jardim Infancia (kindergarten). It was really good for Melodie to be with Portuguese-speaking kids, because she picked it up immediately. For whatever reason, unknown to me, Rudolfo left the chapel pastorate and Dean’s job to preach elsewhere. I was asked to head up his farewell party. Because I am American, I planned a party with games, as I would have in the States. However, it was not the kind of party one puts on in Brazil for a farewell. We had games and refreshments on the seminary lawn with students, churchgoers, and town folk attending. It was not the solemn occasion that everyone expected. Essentially, I messed up, but the good news is that everyone had a wonderful time and probably still remembers the party today. : ) You know, you live and learn, sometimes the hard way. Jose Belarmino became the new pastor of the Chapel Church. He was a kind, tall, thin, black man who attended classes at night in the Seminary’s Bible Institute. He worked in town and never served as the Dean of Men. He had several children, two of which were twin girls. They were somewhat younger than my daughters, so when my girls outgrew their clothes, I gave them to Jose for his daughters. Because Brazil, where we lived, is cold in the winter, my girls wore American Sears pajamas with feet in them. When they got too big for them, we cut the feet off. In the end, the only things that were wearable were the tops. I gave them to Jose for his girls. I was surprised when they showed up in church the next Sunday wearing those floral-patterned pajama tops. Milford was usually off on evangelistic preaching or singing treks, so the girls and I attended the seminary Chapel Church on the mission compound. I taught the women’s class and later a children's class at the Chapel Church most of the time we were in Brazil. In our last term there, we decided to have a Watch Night Prayer Service on New Year’s Eve. We were going to pray the whole night at the Chapel Church. Pastor Jose led the service, and I was to provide snacks for the break in the middle of the night. I don’t know why I didn’t have this group in my house (on the seminary campus) for refreshments or even in the seminary cafeteria. We prayed until four o’clock in the morning but couldn’t stay awake to pray any longer. I am a morning person, so I was fairly miserable when we decided to give it up. When we left Brazil for the last time, Pastor Jose came to our house to say goodbye. He quoted Psalm 133:1: “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!” And he cried. Today, when I think of New Year’s Eve, I always remember the time I spent praying with Pastor Jose and the Brazilians in the Chapel Church. Everyone should be so blessed! Happy New Year! ©Marilyn Francis Ferguson 2023 Graphics by Michele Ferguson Schuck Photo credit: George Bailey
Déjà Vu at a Country Church For several years, our photographer friend, George Bailey from Florida, has visited us to capture the beauty of Ohio's Hocking Hills in the fall. Sometime before his visit in 2003, I learned that my father's earliest known ancestors were buried in a cemetery that is across the road from the Pike Run Church of Church of Christ in Christian Union. The church is located near Tar Hallow State Park in Vinton County. Since we were in the area, we decided to take a side trip to find and photograph their tombstones. After arriving at the beautiful, country cemetery, we readily found the tombstones of my GGGreat Grandparents, as well as those of numerous other relatives. A little church and a newer cemetery stood on a hill across the road. Our photographer friend wanted photos of the church. Going up the hill, I kept repeating, “I feel like I have been here before." Once on top, everything looked familiar to me. The maple tree in the front, the windows, even the front door seemed as though I had seen them before. I looked inside to see that it was different than I had expected, but beautiful. It was then that I realized I had been there before. When I attended Circleville Bible College, Norval Shepherd, a classmate of mine pastored this little church. One evening, he was unable to go and asked if I would go with his wife Shirley and speak for him. I never turned down speaking engagements, so I went. It was a quaint, little church with wallpaper on the inside. Besides the pastor's wife, two older people came. During my message, the man got up and went outside. I was standing at the pulpit and could see him, through the windows as he walked around the grounds. I continued speaking and the woman, that I supposed to be his wife, went to sleep. The end result was that I gave a salvation message to Shirley, the pastor's wife. Since I was young and inexperienced, it was disconcerting to me. Years later, I found it to be funny and told that story many times as an icebreaker when I spoke. I hadn't remembered the name of the church. In going there in search of my ancestors’ tombstones, I was surprised when I realized that it was the same little, country church where I had spoken some forty years earlier. ©Marilyn Francis Ferguson 2023 Graphics by Michele Ferguson Schuck Melinda’s Vespa Ride When we were missionaries in Brazil, my husband Milford had preaching meetings every weekend. Sometimes they were out of town or in or near Londrina where we lived. Arno Deggau was the pastor of one of our local churches. He was of German descent. He and his wife Nilda had two small children. They were a lovely Brazilian couple who were dedicated to the cause of Christ. One Sunday morning Milford was invited to preach in Pastor Arno’s church. I taught a Sunday School class in the chapel church on the seminary campus. Our daughter Melinda was about two years old and wanted to go with her dad. Milford preached the sermon and when the service was over he returned home….without Melinda. The chapel church had just let out when he rolled into the mission carport. Several of us were outside talking when he arrived. “Where’s Melinda?” I asked. His face turned white, and he gave us a shocked look, got back in the car, and drove off. To our surprise, a few minutes later Pastor Arno rode into the carport on his Vespa….with Melinda sitting in front of him. She had fallen asleep on the front pew. Now how often does a two-year-old get to ride on a Vespa? To paraphrase the Prophet Isaiah who asks, can one forget their child? “yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands, thy walls are continually before me.” How many times has Jesus come rolling in with you? ©Marilyn Francis Ferguson 2023 Graphics by Michele Ferguson Schuck |
Marilyn Francis FergusonGrowing up in Williamsport, Ohio is a blog by Marilyn Francis Ferguson which describes small town life in the 1940s and 1950s. Blog Categories
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