These stories are like old friends.

Their lives radiate from the screen like prophets of the past.

They were teachers, but not in a classroom.

Instead, they taught about life to those around them who cared to listen.

And I was their student.

You know, it's easy to criticize America for its imperfections.

And lately, a lot.

Some say too many people are doing it.

But if you want a lesson and all that's good about our country, look no further than Maria Newbold.

I interviewed her right after she became an American citizen.

And you see how she realizes perhaps more than some of us what a privilege that is.

I pledge allegiance to the flag.

As Dawn makes its morning appearance over a Catholic Church preschool teacher, Maria Newbold class at St Theresa's Catholic grade school, begin their day just as they always do on Beautiful.

Do you see that?

Great job they like always.

Thank you, Manuel.

For me, it's just such a moving moment.

That's what we try to do.

It very sacred together with prayer.

That's why they both are connected in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.

In a way.

I think it's just we've been so blessed that we need to remember that everyday.

Maria is originally from Venezuela.

She came to this country ten years ago, hoping to become a citizen.

How can I explain that?

Was I it just the freedom?

Freedom that little war freedom means so much to me.

Sponsored by a Catholic priest, Maria lived in the rectory and attended school at Hutchinson Community College before earning a bachelor's degree at Wichita's Newman University.

He doesn't matter if you're brown.

Why yellow?

You are here for a reason and you can do so much for this great nation, too.

You're going to be so last week, after ten years of work and prayer and thousands of dollars.

Maria became a U.S. citizen at a naturalization ceremony in Wichita.

I left everything behind me my mom, my dad, my brother, my nephews, my grandparents.

I left everybody.

Three.

Four, five.

So this school has been her family over the past decade.

As a teacher here, Saint Theresa's Catholic grade school has given her countless friends and students who she says have all blessed her life.

So it's a main mission right now.

Following her naturalization ceremony, children wrote her notes of congratulations, and most of the papers contained American flags.

While Maria worked to become a citizen, Kelley new balls came into her life.

They married and they have their first child, a child that helped Maria become a better teacher.

Because in each child that I see, I see my own daughter.

He has power in his hands.

So after ten years of work, Maria's dream of citizenship and life in the U.S. is a reality.

So to all my fellow immigrants, don't be afraid.

Each one with our own actions, with our own trace, with our own give.

We can give so much, but do it the right way.

I believe in the right way.

Yes, I do.

I think Mom is waiting for us.

Yes, I feel immensely blessed.

See you tomorrow.

More than a decade later, Maria is still in Hutchinson and says she feels more blessed than ever.

Saint Teresa school closed in 2010, but Maria is now teaching third grade at Holy Cross Catholic School and she's still enjoying a life as a wife and mother living right here in the middle of America.

A lot of us just don't appreciate it.

And every country on the globe has its imperfections.

It does.

We tend to think that America has a lot fewer than other countries, and I still think we do.

But there's no perfect.

Humans aren't perfect.

Humans are imperfect, imperfect countries.

But she really appreciates America.

And I think we all need to do that a lot more these days.

I think you're right about that.

And she's a perfect example of how immigration works.

Exactly.

And she is doing a great job in Hutchinson.

More power to her.

Now back to the 1980s and another Kansas teacher who was proud of where she lived.

Now, by the time I met Ruby Hagler, she was retired and in the twilight of her years.

She was reflecting upon the role she played in our state's history and wondering if anybody really cared.

It was one of those cold, nasty winter days in Emporia when I first met Ruby Heckler.

How do you say Cat?

Tell me what you see.

For nearly 50 years, Ruby has been the official painter of the Kansas State SEAL.

Her real job was teaching school.

But one day, back in the mid thirties, as she began teaching her class about Kansas and the Kansas SEAL, she found that there was very little information about it and nothing about the color.

All I had was just a picture like this and that wouldn't say anything to a child.

And so I thought, well, I, I believe I could make it more interesting than that.

I put a little color with it.

I think I was back about 36, 1936 or something like that, but that's a long time ago.

After doing some research, she asked then Governor Woodring if the state would mind if she became the official painter of the Kansas State SEAL.

He said, that would be great, and the rest is history.

I wanted something that the children would like and they did like it.

And of so many, go to the school just because the children love the colors.

She sold over a thousand of the painted plaster casts to schools, courtrooms, state agencies and to libraries like the one that still hangs in the Kansas section of the Emporia Library.

It is a fixture that few notice or remember, and that's why Ruby has decided to quit painting them.

But I wasn't giving it up because I didn't the people didn't go along with it.

They just think, Oh, that's just one of those things.

As we get along without.

Newspaperman William Allen, White once told Ruby that she sold her work dirt cheap.

William White helped me many, many times.

A large hand-painted plaster cast like this one originally sold for $10.

Then Ruby raised her prices to 40, hardly adequate by today's standards.

I think I would be mentioned in history.

I don't know.

Ruby.

Think you'll ever paint the Kansas SEAL again?

Could be talked into it.

I don't know about you, but I get the feeling that Ruby is like most artists.

She just wants her work to be appreciated and noticed.

From Emporia, this is Larry Hatteberg.

So is she mentioned in history?

Well, apparently not.

The state historical society knows nothing about her.

Rosalie Waterman at the Emporia Public Library vaguely remembers Ruby and found her obituary.

It says she died in 1991 at age 90.

Now, Waterman says the library has two of Ruby's painted seals on display.

It's hard to know how many others are still on public display across the state.

When I did that story, I thought everybody would know about Ruby's work painting the Kansas State SEAL.

I mean, it's not an easy thing to do.

No.

And she did it for years and years.

And now when you look up her name, zip, nothing.

Larry, what if you hadn't done the story about her?

Well, no one would know.

Now, at least people know.

Right.

And the good news.

We did do.

This.

Exactly.

And so people know.

But it's interesting how history picks and chooses.

It does.

It really does.

Your note.

Larry.

Unfortunate.

Well, I'm glad you did, Ruby story.

Now, maybe when we Google Ruby how it works, people will come.

I hope so.

Yeah.

The news business has changed quite a lot over the decades, from newspapers to radio to television to the internet, each medium continually evolving due to cultural changes, economics and, of course, technology.

In 1986, Earl Green was one of the last of his kind, publishing an old fashioned newspaper the old fashioned way.

And the end was near to the elder members of the press.

This is music.

Thousands of hours have been spent by Earl Green, pecking out story after story on this antique typesetting machine.

Modern newspapers don't use this equipment anymore, but Earl does.

Yes, that's the reason.

Last two years, I've been saying there three that I'm going to quit.

Now, this is it.

The simple storefront announces that this is the home of the record, a newspaper that the masthead says is devoted to the best interests of rural Reno County.

What record?

In 1955.

For 55 years, Earl has been working in a print shop.

Soon he'll give it up.

His feelings are not unexpected.

Well, I don't know what you say.

I'd go home and cry.

Abbeville, Kansas.

In western Reno County.

Population real small.

It's the kind of place where you can see the town phone and pop machine in the same glance.

Well, the Hutchinson record for some people is just like getting a letter from home.

Especially.

If they live off it.

And this is for decades.

Green's newspaper has been the social conscience of communities like Abbeville.

It's his paper that's providing a written history of small town America.

And no one knows that better than Mary Louise Crimson, who writes the Abbeville News section.

Well, it's it's sort of ties this together, I think.

Some are going to be very, very disappointed, I'm sure, because they really depend on that paper to get their news.

Earl Green has made newspapers the old fashioned way alone and with antique equipment.

He labored hard when few others cared about the stories he printed.

Still, he published.

Sometimes I'm proud of it, and sometimes I think it could have been better.

Again, I've enjoyed it.

I'm sure if it goes.

Out of.

Existence, there's going to be something that will be missed.

It's just a part of history that's going to be gone.

Now, Earl passed away five years later at age 81.

And when I went into Earl's print shop and he published this little newspaper in the town, when I went into his print shop, it was like going back in time, 50 years now, really.

And when you're in there and you're watching him work and this old press printing thing is like one sheet at the time.

You just feel the weight of history is pressing down on him because that shop didn't last.

I know.

You know, it's it's that that's over.

Unfortunately, the simple things are gone the most.

But Larry brings them back to us.

And that's where you learn about this.

From Earl Green to Shirley Green.

They weren't related, but they were equally interesting.

Earl was a great saxophonist.

That's right.

Shirley was a nationally known musician in his early days.

But after a while, he decided that other things were more important, and he gave up showbiz for a much more humble life.

It's easy to tell when Shirley Green is home.

Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom.

It's music that flows from the heart as well as the horn.

I just know it.

I know I have all my life here since I have a kid, since I was a kid.

I love.

I just love music.

I mean, it makes me perk.

Know and perk.

He does.

Still practicing every day.

Shirley Green has been to the top.

He's played with all the big name bands, but gave it up in the late forties to get married and to raise a family.

His kids, though, have long since moved away.

Three years ago, he retired as a school custodian.

That same year, his wife died.

That's why now he has a new family.

And I love kids, though.

I love to work with kids, especially those that have that physical distance with the disabilities.

They're valuable at the O'Hara School for Special Education, Shirley, through the Foster Grandparent Program, helps students with individualized instruction.

And he is a patient, deliberate man who day after day, gives what these children need time from the heart.

So great that they're so appreciative.

But life is not always inspiring.

Sometimes it's mundane matters that occupy his time.

He doesn't mind as long as he's got his music.

Without music, I do.

I could make it.

I don't do that.

Outside his little dog Flip begs for attention, which he usually gets.

That's.

That's sad.

But you can bet Shirley's mind always returns to that old tenor sax.

His here by the window.

The present melts away.

It's just a man.

His music and memories will surely lived another 12 years before passing away in 1998 at age 81.

This is another story in which the beginning of someone's life takes a turn, a twist that is fascinating.

It's so fascinating.

And what amazes me, he realized what's important in life.

And you get joy out of little things.

You do.

And he did.

Mm hmm.

Lived a good life.

There are few things more important to a small town than its grocery store.

Unfortunately, that's also one of the most difficult things to keep going.

Oftentimes, the economics are just not there.

But in 2009, I visited a store in the tiny Mildred Kansas that had survived for generations.

For the owners, it had clearly become more a labor of love than anything else.

As the moon begins to hide from the morning sun, it's pretty calm.

On the streets of Mildred, Kansas, right in front of Charlie Brown's grocery store.

It's an old country store, general, mom and pops type store.

It's unique in its own way.

That's Mike Becker working on the sandwiches in the back.

His mother, Patricia, is up front talking with customers.

Do that.

But back along the shelves, as long time employee Marilyn Colgan.

Names like this comes in here no matter what you do.

Mike's grandfather was Charlie Brown.

That's his picture there on the wall.

He asked Mike to help him when Mike was in college.

Then his grandfather became ill and later died.

And if the store was to survive, Mike had to make it happen.

He did.

It's like a little family, you know?

I don't have any brothers or sisters.

Just Mom and me, grandma.

That's, you know, about it.

And this area.

I just enjoy.

Trying to keep it going.

A long ways to go.

But, you know, a.

Little bit at a time.

The building was built by his great grandfather.

This door handle touched by thousands of hands of history over the years.

The old building is important for Mike.

It's been in the family since 1912.

They build every block by themselves, you know, and it's a lot of work.

There's a lot of work to be done yet, but it's also a lot of fun.

Local folks, particularly hunters, love to come to Charlie Brown's market in Mildred, Kansas, just for the sandwiches.

Mike spends hours slicing, dicing and spreading all kinds of condiments just the way his grandfather did.

It's more fun than it is work.

I mean, it.

It's worth it, you know, in the end.

It's also nice to be somewhere where folks remember your family.

One customer wanted to give Charlie Brown's widow, Lucille, a hug.

A small gesture, but huge.

When it comes from the heart.

Oh, my gosh.

It's just a little store in Mildred, Kansas.

But to Mike Becker and his family whose world has revolved around the building for nearly a hundred years.

It is the memory of all those who came before and a legacy worth keeping.

I don't consider it a job.

I just it's like a civic duty, you know?

I've got to be there for the people.

The Beckers kept the store going for five more years and then finally had to close it in 2014.

Mike's mom passed away and he moved to Humboldt.

But that's not the end of the story.

Now, Regina and Lauren Lantz bought the place.

They did a complete renovation and expanded the store into the rest of the building.

It's now known as the Mildred store.

In addition to offering a larger selection of groceries and sandwiches, the store now has a stage for live music and bands performed there every Saturday.

Free to the Public.

Regina says crowds often exceed 100 people.

And keep in mind, the population of the town is only 28.

Space is also available for wedding receptions and other community events.

You know, to survive in a small town, you got to be all things to everybody.

You got to be creative.

You got to do stuff behind the scenes that people don't realize, but they save the store.

I love it.

There are a grocery store, a venue.

Who knows what else?

What else?

Some folks just know they're in the right place.

Bob Cox of Kiowa is one of those people.

Now, Bob is part of the culture that makes small towns work in America.

Check out the life he led in 2007.

I'm not going to move to the big city, and I don't think I could ever adapt there to go lay down and rest on.

What does a cat, a cartoon, a clock, a hat, a pipe and a truck have to do with Bob Cox of Kiowa, Kansas?

You know, it's kind of like stepping back in time.

It is all these things that make Bob's life unique.

He runs Bob's printing shop, a print shop with no computer.

Bob sets the type by hand.

Watched by his old cat.

He's kind of a lost art, so I just do it to be doing something that no one else does.

I guess.

He lives in a different time.

Small town America, where old clocks speak of the past, and that's fine with him.

I started collecting clocks when I was in high school.

Interest me maybe way back.

I wish I could just turn the clock hands around.

50 years ago.

He's lived in this town all his life.

Grew up here, likes to wear hats.

And he wears many of them.

People enjoy seeing it.

So it's kind of like clocks, the craftsmanship.

And I like the old sound of the transformation in public.

You know, it's Bob because he drives a 1946 Chevy panel truck.

Another time machine.

It's fine.

I wouldn't change.

It's like everybody busy.

Mid-afternoon, he takes a break at Larry's barber shop.

This is the spot time.

Not too important here, but people are.

It's where the guys come to find out what's going on.

All the women go to the beauty shops here and they get all the gossip, and then they come home and tell their husbands.

And then the husbands come in here and tell everybody else about it.

Yeah.

Now, living in the small town also means you run the movie projector at the local theater.

I enjoy it.

And this is where I want to be.

Back in his shop, modern conveniences are few and his most popular window display.

The place where his old cat likes to sleep.

These people got to sell them.

They know Bob doesn't have a TV or a DVD player and seldom uses a computer.

He's too busy simply living and loving life in this small town.

If we had a TV, I'd be sat in front of the TV instead of back fixing somebody's clock or doing something.

I'm Joy.

Now you'll remember Bob.

He drives a truck, smokes a pipe, wears a hat, runs the movies, has a cat, repairs, clocks and sets type, and does all this without any hype.

Sometimes I feel like I have it.

I'm enjoying things that no one else does.

Maybe I'm in here.

Here, behind.

Now, here's the update.

Bob is still doing all that stuff, still has the shop, still runs the projector at the movie theater, still drives the panel truck, and occasionally he still smokes his pipe.

Now, the only thing that's changed is he no longer has the cat.

Bob was one of those guys in Kiowa who literally did everything for the town.

I mean, he was so engrained in that town.

He is so ingrained in that town that it was just lovely to to showcase him a little bit, to see how important a single individual can be for small town.

You know.

And, you know, it's nice to see some people are people are recognizing the value of small towns even more.

Some are even moving back from the big city to the small towns.

I hope so.

Like I always say, smoke them if you got them.

I actually don't really say that.

Smoking, as you know, is very bad for you and.

The man in this next story.

Doesn't smoke them, but he does turn the boxes, cigar boxes.

That is in the musical instruments.

Take a look.

I do believe there's a heaven somewhere from a long time ago.

I understood.

I'm a pastor.

I do believe.

I really do believe.

There's heaven somewhere.

I love the music and it helps me to become more joyful.

Samuel Wood is the pastor of this South Wichita United Methodist Church.

I was so fascinated with the idea of taking something so common and something that was going to be thrown out and turn it into a musical instrument that I just had to try it.

So now, with cigar boxes lining his basement, waiting to be born again, part of his job is finding the right piece of wood to mount the strings.

Different woods give different color to the tone.

I don't know.

I think there's something different that happens when you put more sweat into it.

Loaded 16 tons while you get another day older and deeper in the same the don't you call me cause I can't go while my soul do the company's door thing.

Even though I'm a great vocalist and I'm not a great musician at all.

There's there's a way of connectedness there.

Hallelujah.

All my joys with you.

I gladly share.

When somebody sees you pick up a cigar box or a guitar, they don't really know what what they're going to hear.

And when they hear music and it has some authenticity in it and it rings, it speaks to a lot of people.

Let the Midnight Special shine its ever loving light on me.

The earliest roots of American music was born in hardship.

And these are these are instruments born in hardship.

Certainly pain can live.

You wouldn't think of finding its way into a guitar, but here we are.

It came from a local cigar shop.

They were just going to throw it out.

Last year, he built 90 of them.

I like to think of this hobby as having a profound, redemptive aspect to it.

Maybe that appeals to the theologian in me and those who have, even if it's only a little more, are responsible for sharing and strengthening and lifting up their sisters and brothers.

Get on board.

Little children get more little to move to move, move.

Oh, man.

Here, more.

Pastor Sam's church closed a few years ago, unfortunately.

And in 2016, he suffered third degree burns over most of his body when his lawnmower blew up.

So as far as we know, he recovered and apparently moved to Springfield, Missouri.

Talk about twists in life, a lot more blowing up.

I could never predict something like that.

Well, we hope he's doing well and.

We hope he is.

And it's nice to know updates on on these people.

It is.

You know, we can think about and pray for him if we need to.

That kind of thing.

Life always has a twist.

Hmm.

That's a wrap for this week.

hattebergspeople@kpts.org.

That's our email address.

If you have a question or comment, if you really like this show and are grateful for what Larry is doing.

Feel free to email us.

Thanks for watching.

I'm Susan.

Peters.

You can also email Susan.

And I'm Larry Hatteberg.

Be safe.

We'll see you again soon.