This beautiful Indian summer brings sadness.
The community of Winfield has lost two relatively young leaders, Brian
Redford, 38, and Frank Lann, 47. Both played important parts in our public
life, and both will be missed.
At Frank's funeral Tuesday, the Rev. Rick Hathaway of Trinity Lutheran
Church read from Paul's speech to the Christians at Athens:
"God that made the world and all things therein... dwelleth not in temples
made with hands."
Realizing that praise for community service may mean little to grieving
friends and family members just now, I think that praise still deserves to
be written.
I am a fan of the Seattle music group Marley's Ghost, which has performed
with increasing success at the Walnut Valley Festival the past few years.
The group's lead gospel song is "Workin' on a Buildin.'"
I happen to know Kendra Redford, Brian's mother, likes that song. It goes:

"I'm workin' on a buildin,'
For my Lord.
A Holy Ghost buildin'...
If I was a carpenter,
I'll tell you what I'd do,
I'd work all day
And work all night,
Just to work on a buildin' too."

Marley's Ghost sings another song, perhaps better known, that speaks to all
of us, and right now speaks particularly of Brian. It goes:

"I am a pilgrim and a stranger,
Traveling through this wearisome land.
I've got a home in that yonder city,
And it's not made by hand."

The words of these songs have soothed my shock, anger and grief at losing
these two young men. Singer John McCutcheon's comments Monday recalled
Brian's part two years ago in converting Stage I at the fairground for a
performance of the Winfield Regional Symphony.
The job was literally done overnight. The credit belongs to all the crew,
but as director of operations, Brian gets the lion's share.
I will miss his boyish, almost playful look and the quips he occasionally
tossed through my office doorway. I will miss our conversations and the
confidence he gave me that the festival would go on.

Remembering Frank

Frank and I went way back to the days when Dave Warren was city manager.
Frank's contribution to the downtown curb and gutter project in the early
1980s was essential.
For the newspaper, Frank was our best source of information at city hall on
subjects like zoning, home businesses and dilapidated buildings - all
delicate at times.
Frank had a way of telling it like it was and then letting the questioner
deal with reality.
He used this technique, tempered with a keen ear and appropriate courtesy,
at a public forum on three-mile zoning last month. As his boss, Warren
Porter, said, Frank did a masterful job.
I admit to having a few friendly differences with Frank.
Even as he waited with dim hopes for a heart transplant, Frank kept his
sense of humor in his dealings with me. I will never forget the day I waxed
warm at a meeting about a point in the three-mile zoning proposal.
I turned to Frank, looking for a little slack. "I guess I got a little
excited," I said.
"You always get excited," he responded, drolly, quickly, as only Frank
could.
The group broke up into laughter.

Wandering through

It is enough to say both men suffered from the kind of serious disease that
can make life hell on earth. The diseases were very different.
Those diseases have taken these two men in terribly untimely ways from
their families. Hopefully, even as we mourn their loss, we will understand
better that heart disease and depression deserve to be dealt with as
equally devastating threats to young men and women as they journey through
our community.