I can’t thank the docents of the Burwell Morgan Grist Mill enough.   Joe Guenther, Ed Keenan, Carl Maples, and Harry Lewis:  Thank you for being such welcoming hosts, and for being so generous with your time and talents in helping me make this video.  Truly, you made the video, as well as did the young man and  his Mother, who was gracious enough to allow me to include them as well.  I thought her son did a very good job of helping in the mill that day.  I regret that I didn’t get their names.   

Technical comments:  I wish I could go back and re-do some of the pans.  They’re not smooth, and I’m particularly dissatisfied with the pan of the waterfall.  I should have taken that by kneeling on the ground, instead of trying to balance and turn on crutches.  The pan of the son collecting milled product and taking it to the table to weigh is good, I think.  I’m happy with that outcome.  I had the advantage of a post against which to lean throughout that pan.   I wouldn’t mind making a few other critical comments about my filming and editing, but I don’t want to take too much space for that.  Suffice it to say that I vow to do better next time. 

Although I’ve dedicated my video to the memory of Rube Goldberg, the Miller might think Oliver Evans to be the more appropriate choice.  After all, Evans’ expertise influenced mill design and operation across the United States.  His tome, “The Young Mill-Wright and Miller’s Guide,” became a standard in mills throughout the nation.  It might be said, in fact, that Oliver Evans is the Father of Modern Milling.  Doesn’t it seem more fitting then, that I pay the homage of dedication to him?   

Ed Keenan, one of the millers in my video, made a comment about Rube Goldberg, and I wanted to capitalize on it.  Goldberg was known – in part – for devising complicated mechanical devices to perform simple tasks.  These mechanical devices are known as ”Rube Goldberg Machines,” and might well  — as suggested by Mr. Keenan — resemble the kind of mechanical arrangement seen in the Burwell Morgan Grist Mill video.   

I just thought that the added dimension of Rube Goldberg was a nice touch, because of the comic aspect of his designs, and I wanted to run with it, even if only for a brief moment, by dedicating my video to his memory.

The Burwell Morgan Grist Mill in Millwood, Virginia may be a matter of local history, and Messrs. Burwell and Morgan personages of primarily Virginia history; but the general story is a little like wine.  The history of milling is the history of the world.  

Every nation and every culture carries a story about milling.  Food made from milled product has been a staple on plates throughout the world since the time of recorded history.  Even in religion, flour has been of import for centuries; either in use, as in the practice of some Christian celebrations of communion with leavened or unleavened bread (raised, or made without a yeast product); or in the absence thereof, such as in the Jewish observance of removing leavened bread (chametz) from the home and from use during Passover. 

In some form or fashion, then, the history of milling truly is the history of the world.   That is the reason I wanted to focus on the milling operation itself in my video, rather than say too much about the founders of this specific mill.  I thought it might have more appeal to the international audience. 

In truth, I am also intrigued by the mechanical process of the milling operation.  I like working parts, and the more the better.    

On the other hand, the Burwell Morgan Mill is the history of Millwood.  This mill was the first industry of Clarke County, Virginia.  Product from the Burwell Morgan Mill found its way to the table of international commerce, and provided measurable revenue for the Commonwealth of Virginia.  I would be remiss if I didn’t include at least brief mention of the lives of the founders.  

The name “Carter” is well known in the Commonwealth to those interersted in prominent Virginians of the past.  Robert “King” Carter, was a wealthy and influential Virginian who bequeathed his vast land holdings near the James River to his son, contingent upon the condition that the bequethed estate be named “Carter’s Grove.”   Nathaniel Burwell, his grandson, who would acquire in adulthood the rank of Lt. Col. through colonial service in the American Revolution, inherited the land holdings upon the death of his father when Nathaniel was but five years of age.  He would come to name his Millwood estate in similar fashion:  “Carter Hall.”

From the Burwell Morgan Grist Mill phamplet:

“Lt. Col. Nathaniel Burwell … was a member of one of Virginia’s oldest families.  In 1774, he graduated from the College of William and Mary, where he won honors in mathematics. He commanded the James City County Militia in George Washingon’s army at the siege of Yourtown during the Revolutionary War.”

Lt. Col. Burwell and Brig. Gen. Daniel Morgan; whom had distinguished himself as a leader of men through his own service in the American Revolution, formed a business alliance in the creation of the Burwell Morgan Mill, in the Northern Region of the Shenandoah Valley. 

In reading excerpts from ”The Young Mill-Wright and Miller’s Guide,” one can easily appreciate that a strong background in mathematics is a necessary component of the successful miller’s knowledge.  The need for a working understanding of the principles of motion, and of hydraulics is clearly dilineated in The Miller’s Guide, or what the miller might have called his professional bible.   As a man of superior mathematical ability, Lt. Col. Burwell was inately suited for such an endeavor.  

As I mentioned, Brig. Gen. Morgan had distinguished himself as a leader of men militarily before and during the American Revolution.  His previous experience in the management of business would naturally prove as further service in the successful management of the grist mill.  

“Brig Gen. Daninel Morgan, born of Welsh Quaker parents in New Jersey or Pennsylvania, left home at age seventeen to make his fortune in Virginia.  He farmed, managed a sawmill, and owned a commercial fleet of wagons that transported good across the mountains.  This gave him intimate knowledge of the back country, which served him well in military activities. 

Morgan was a member of the Virginia Militia during the French and Indian War.  Prior to the Revolutionary War, he formed Morgan’s Rifles ninety-six frontiersmen, uniqely qualified sharpshooters experienced in defending their own homes.  His men were ready tro fight whith ten days of the call to arms by the Continental Congress.  As a brigadier general, he won an overwhelming victory at the Battle of Cowpens (1781) by applying unorthodox military tactics learned on the frontier, which cemented his brilliant military reputation.  Between campaigns, he supervised Hessian prisoners-of-war quartered at Fort Loudoun in Winchester.” 

Morgan’s charges, 150 Hessian prisoners-of-war, assigned to him by Gen. George Washington, would build the Grist Mill, as well as Morgan’s nearby home of Saratoga, so named for the site of the Battle of Saratoga in New York, where he played a notible leadership role.  Additionally, the Old Chapel, located on the grounds of the Burwell Cemetary in Millwood, was built by these men.  

After all is said and done, however, the impression most strongly imprinted in my mind has little to do with history’s details.  I know more of them now than when this video project was begun, but that’s not what I see in my mind, when I think of the Burwell Morgan Grist Mill.  I see the men in my video, who worked so beautifully in concert to repair the cog.  I see Mr. Guenther, who graciously explained one thing or anther for the sake of my filming effort.  He referred to himself as the oldest miller there.  I’ll assume that he meant time served, but I’m not sure.   I see Mr. Keenan, who – with a wry sense of timing - cited the work of Rube Goldberg for comparitive value.  

Because I wanted the editing to be tight, I accidentally demonstrated the very heart of the successful operation of the Grist Mill, or any business venture for that matter.  As Mr. Guenther offered his expertise, and Mr. Maples worked to raise the cog; Mr. Lewis smartly addressed the issue for my benefit, picking up exactly where Mr. Keenan left off, and all while in the midst of that process.  Like Burwell and Morgan, these men function like a well-oiled machine. 

I was even more impressed by the fact that they were able to incorporate visitors with varying motivations into the process without skipping a beat.  Mother and Son came as tourists.  My purpose in visiting was to conduct an interview.  We each found a natural and comfortable niche that day, but that could not have been possible without a dedicated effort of the men who run the mill to ensure such an event.

That, then, is my clearest image.  As much work is involved in the operation of a grist mill museum, the docents of the Burwell Morgan Mill — professionals in every sense – make it seem like no effort at all.    

Look for more about Millwood, Virginia, in the coming months, from the Righteous University of Kalacaw (R.U.O.K.?). 

I was unable to fit the written transcript in the You Tube video description section, so I’ve included it here, along with the video.   As time permits; from now on, I will also caption my videos, because that’s what I’d rather see myself.  I also recognize that various factors may render that method useless to a viewer, however, so I will always attach a written transcript, either in the description section or here.  I have only just begun this practice, and I appreciate your patience.   

Background:    This is my way of sending a message of peace across the world.  I confirmed this with debstef, FYI, before uploading, in fairness to him.  I wouldn’t blindside anyone with something like this.
 
The reason I chose Debstef to be the first person is because my Dad would have loved his video about speaking the “Queen’s English.”  We always called it the King’s English, but the last member of the Royal Family to visit the Commonwealth of Virginia was Queen Elizabeth, so Queen’s English it is. 

My Dad’s name was Roger.  He was a good man who loved and cared for people.  The thing my Dad did for me was teach me what I needed to know to survive without family, to not embrace the want of revenge, and to love all people, even my enemies.  My Dad was my hero.

Big Bottle Bonanza:  I must admit, I do love that bottle.  There are a lot of video replies — my competitors, I guess.  I love them and I don’t want them to think this is about the bottle.  Stefen is going to start this for me anyway, and that’s the most important thing.  If he gives the bottle to someone else, that’s a person I love anyway.  God, yes.   This just looked like a good way to jump in and ask Stefan, although I DO LOVE THAT BOTTLE!  HA!   Honestly, though, I think it best to back out of the actual running for that, although … did I mention that I loved that bottle?  

Transcript of Video:

“Okay Stefan.  We haven’t talked in a while.  I’m sorry.  I’ve been busy. Do Qualcomm dogs have as much salt in them as Jack Murphy hot dogs?  I don’t care what the signs say.  It’s Jack Murphy stadium.  Okay!  (silly editing stuff)

Big Bottle Bonanza. I’ve got a story.  I’ve been thinking about how to do something like this for a long time, and you just may be my answer. 

My Grandfather — died a long time before I was born — was older when my Father was born.  And my Father was born in 1903.  I was born in 1958.  You’re not even qualified to date me unless you’re like 85 years old.   I’m an old lady!  Anyway, my Dad and I were very close. I was his shadow, he was my best friend, and stuff like that. He was a great Dad. 

(Picture of my Dad, Roger, when he was seventeen years of age.) 

I never knew my Grandfather.  My Grandfather was an architect in my home town of Alexandria, Virginia.  I don’t live there now.  He was also a musician.  He built an African American church, among other buildings, in our hometown, and played the organ in it on the first Sunday. 

But, these are a pair of — look at this — please.  See ‘em?  These are little shoes! Aren’t they cute, huh?  Ha Ha!  Wooden shoes!  My Grandfather, made these, carved these, I don’t know what kind of wood, for my Dad, when my Dad was a little boy.  Aren’t they cute?  Look at that!  So these belonged to my Dad when he was a little boy.  So, they would have been made around 1910.

I’m the last person in my family standing, and I’ve got all the stuff.  Anyway, the most important thing to me, the most important thing I own, are these little shoes.  And, I was thinking about um … how I’m kind of, how I love people and stuff?  And I love people more than things.  I say that I love people more than anything I own.  A person who comes to my home is going to be more important than anything I own.  I always say that, but I keep wondering how can something like that actually be true, because … and I think about these little shoes. 

Very good memories, hmmm? He died in 1973.  It’s okay.  He was so good that he did all the great Dad stuff in the short time I had him. 

But, um … I don’t have any children.  I don’t have anybody to leave things like this to.  And so, um … my Dad loved people too.  He was a lot like me.  If there is anything good in me at all, it’s not me but my Dad.  And I don’t think I probably would have made it if he had not been my Dad.  I don’t think I would have made it.  I can’t keep these little shoes forever, so I thought it might be fun, if I sent them on a little trip around the world. And, I’ve never left the United States and, I mean I’ve been to Tijuana. That’s not, you know, I mean I lived in San Diego, you know I went down to Tijuana.   Maybe my little shoes could, huh?  And my Grandfather never traveled either.  I don’t believe.  But maybe the little shoes he made my Dad could.  And, so, it would mean somebody trusting me with their address, their mailing address, and I would have to trust that person with mine.  Anyway, uh … I lived in San Diego, and I miss California a lot.  So, here’s what I propose: 

This is pretty important to me.  I wonder if you would be interested in starting a … kind of a chain thing?  And help me to get these little shoes to go around the world.  And we could use You Tube for this, because, maybe there’s somebody else you know, you could trust them to put these little shoes in their hands.  When you get them, you could make a little video, and pass them on to somebody else.  They make a little video, and, uh … we’ll keep track of the shoes.
And what this means is we have to establish a level of trust in at least one other person on You Tube, this level of trust.  And the reason I trust this system is because I trust you to make a sound decision, and I believe I’m making a sound decision in asking you to be the first person to receive the shoes and make a video.  And I’m wondering if you’d be willing to do this?

Now, you don’t have to send me your bottle.  I actually do love your bottle (laughter). And I must admit, few times in my life have I coveted anything.  But when I saw your bottle, I thought, “I’ve got to have that bottle!” 

 Would you like to participate in this?  And, um … I send these shoes to you; I bid you peace.  I send you my love — friendship love, huh?  You get them.  You make a video, and then you choose someone.  And then you send them these shoes.  They’ll make a video.  And, uh … they’ll choose someone.  And these shoes will walk their way across the world.  And each person receives the shoes and makes a video with the little shoes. 

I guess eventually, it would be kind of neat if they came back to me.  But, that kind of thing is not going to always happen.  I release these shoes to the care of the world — people I love very much.  And so, I know I may never see them again.  And, that’s okay, because I will love whomever has them, and if something along the route happens to them — if they get lost — that’s okay because I will love the person who lost them.  And that’s more important than these little shoes. 

I really don’t have anything that means more to me, so I’m wondering if you would do this, and if you will, then uh … I’ll get these to you quickly.  I’ll get to the Post Office tomorrow.  Okay. That’s my thought.”

End of transcript 

I have a further thought.  It occurs to me that these shoes are the only things I have that are truly “passed down” things.  My Dad was very specific about this.  That fleeting thought, “How can I do this?” shakes me a little.  ”How can I let these shoes leave my hands, to destinations yet unknown!?”  I’ve nothing left of family but memories and things, and now I’m letting go the most important of the lot. 

Then I thought of all the people who would hold those little shoes in their hands.  They would know I loved them very much to do this.  They are the reason I’m doing this.   It’s the biggest thing I can think to do.  After remembering that, I’m comforted.  I know I’ve done the right thing.  And my Dad would have loved this.