Center: Janet and Don together at church, sharing a recent moment of fellowship.
Top Right: Janet—her infectious smile matched only by her warm spirit—looks back on a lifetime filled with adventure, faith, and blessings.
Our story begins when a young boy places a nickel in the offering plate just as the warm summer breeze carries the scent of honeysuckle through the gaps in the clapboard planks of the old Baptist church that leans under the weight of the years and the heartfelt testimony of sinners. The young boy wonders if his nickel will make any difference.
The few souls in attendance, bent from years of hard living, rise up quickly, glad to be free from pews as hard as the times. Reaching out to the heavens, they grasp for redemption in the hot summer air as the sound of “The Old Rugged Cross” drifts through those same gaps in the clapboard planks and across the northern Indiana farmland.
The boy’s father would give him a second-hand trombone. Not the easiest instrument to play, but when the young boy first blew his breath into the mouthpiece and moved the slide, everything made sense to him in a way nothing had before.
Simple things, really, but a foundation was built. As our story continues, like the ingredients for grandmother’s peach cobbler, we add a cup of friendship, a teaspoon of faith, along with a smidgeon of fate and good fortune. All the ingredients that would bind lives together. Oh, and our recipe calls for a pinch of good humor, of which there is a great deal. We’ll let this bake a while and check on it later in our story.
The Depression is ongoing across the country. Difficult times. Along State Route 33 between Elkhart and Ft. Wayne, Indiana, is where we find the small town of Ligonier—otherwise known as the marshmallow capital of the world and the birthplace of Don Ritter.
Don’s father was a tenant farmer, laboring for landowners for food and a place to live—and little more. “My first memories of Dad farming were near Constantine, Michigan, just across the Indiana line. My mother contracted rheumatoid arthritis, and my brother, sister, and I were sent to live with my grandparents for a while. I didn’t realize it then, but it was a hard life for my parents,” Don recalls.
“I took to music at an early age. We had an old, out-of-tune piano that I played. When I was in seventh grade, Dad found a trombone that was in terrible shape. I fooled around with it until I was able to get something out of it,” Don beams, with an infectious smile and a twinkle in his eye.
“I was just good enough to get by in our high school band,” Don recalls modestly. A friend and fellow trombonist later played with Harry James—a notable achievement at the time. Don’s music teacher, originally from Murray, Kentucky, encouraged him to consider college and study music education at Murray State University.
It was 1951, and in those days, music students played in dance bands to pick up extra money. Don played in a few bands, most notably the Jack Staulcap Orchestra, as it was known. Operating out of Paducah, the band members traveled in an old school bus, with seats that didn’t recline, playing many one-nighters, with the musicians sleeping overnight on the bus. At one point, the band played thirty one-nighters in a row.
“We were paid union scale, ten to twelve dollars a night, and I received a small music scholarship. Not bad money for a college student in those days.” After graduating, Don found jobs were hard to come by due to the conflict in Korea. Advised it might be a better route to volunteer rather than be drafted, Don joined the Army.
Don served in a combat regiment monitoring radio and Morse code communications in Iceland. The strategic location allowed monitoring of communications from all over the world.
“While training as a radio operator, I played music in the First Division Band. When the band would strike up ‘Stars and Stripes Forever,’ I felt as if we were playing the soundtrack of our country. I was proud to play in the Army band,” Don is quick to mention—and rightly so.
After his military duties ended, Don decided to return to school at Indiana University, where he received his master’s degree in music education.
“I accepted a position teaching music and instrumental studies to students in grades one through twelve in Wolcottville, Indiana. This role proved to be an invaluable professional experience. The position demanded adaptability and the ability to tailor my instructional approach to accommodate the different ages. I learned patience with a capital ‘P’ with the younger kids,” Don laughs, remembering his young students.
Speaking of children, Don and his first wife Lucy decided they wanted children, and they adopted Tom. “We moved to Owensboro in 1961 where I taught music education in Daviess County schools. We decided we liked children and being parents suited us, so we eventually adopted three girls, Teresa, Beth and Audrey. We have seven grandchildren and four great-grandchildren.” Tom followed in his dad’s footsteps and was a musician in the Air Force, retired and now living in Wyoming. Don’s three daughters all live in Bowling Green.
After teaching for two years, Don became an elementary school principal and assistant superintendent in Daviess County. Wanting to further his education, Don and Lucy soon moved to Bloomington, Indiana, where Don completed his doctorate in elementary education and school administration at IU. Soon afterwards, he accepted the position as Director of the Laboratory School at Western Kentucky University. Don went on to work in teacher admissions and certification administration at Western, until his retirement in 1998.
Don recalls his good fortune and the positive influence of his parents and teachers. Although he grew up poor, Don’s family attended church regularly. “Dad always gave me a nickel to put in the offering plate—which doesn’t sound like much—but the sacrifice and symbolism of Dad’s gesture is a memory that has stayed with me all these years. And of course, without the influence of my music teacher who encouraged me to attend Murray State, I would have never met Lucy.”
“One day as I was walking through the college library, Lucy dropped a pencil; when I picked it up, our eyes met and everything changed,” Don recalls, with a tear in his eye. “Lucy and I were married for 60 years until she passed away from complications due to breast cancer and heart failure.” We pause for Don to compose himself, as the memories of his life with Lucy come flooding back.
During their time at First Christian Church in Owensboro, Don and Lucy became friends with Janet and Jerry Thomson—and in our mixing bowl we now add a teaspoon of fate that would shape our story. Let’s back up and bake this a bit longer as our story continues.
Janet McGinnis was born in Bowling Green but at an early age would move to Louisville.
“We lived near Iroquois Park. Mom was a school librarian, and Dad worked for L&N Railroad. Dad managed the advertising for the L&N employee magazine, and he traveled up and down the line from Louisville to New Orleans. We would get passes for the railroad, and Mom would take my brother and me on trips to New York City, New Orleans, and Washington, D.C., among others. It was such fun.” Sadly, Janet’s dad passed away when she was ten.
Janet attended DuPont Manual High School. A good student, she graduated from Transylvania in Lexington with a degree in history and political science. “Girls didn’t have a lot of career options in those days, so I followed in my mother’s footsteps and obtained my secondary teaching certificate while at Transylvania,” Janet remembered.
Janet met Jerry Thomson at Transylvania. “Jerry was a wonderful athlete, and he played basketball but lost his scholarship after an injury and had to drop out of school. He joined the Army before moving to his hometown of Owensboro to finish his degree at Kentucky Wesleyan College.”
From her early years riding the rails, Janet was no stranger to adventure. “After graduating from college, a girlfriend and I moved to San Francisco for the summer where we shared a small apartment. We worked part-time office jobs as Kelly Girls, as they were known then. It was such fun and a great experience. It took some courage for two young ladies to venture across the country, as you can imagine,” Janet notes.
By then, Jerry had finished college, and he and Janet married and moved to Owensboro where they taught school for three years. “We had such good friends there and we all attended First Christian, including Don and Lucy. You know,” Janet continues, “all of us having grown up in churches, participating in small groups, choir, and so on—I think we all just enjoyed God working through us. I know God certainly has worked through my life.”
Our summer breeze would continue to push things along, however, when Janet and Jerry moved to Louisville to take care of Janet’s aging mother. We taught in the Bullitt County schools until Jerry accepted a position as principal at Meyzeek Middle School. Under Jerry’s leadership, Meyzeek would become one of the highest-rated public schools in the state.
Influenced by Don and Lucy, Janet and Jerry adopted their daughter Julie. “After Julie came along,” Janet laughs, “wouldn’t you know it, I became pregnant with our son Don. Julie is here in Louisville, and Don’s family lives in Virginia with Janet’s four grandchildren.”
After spending a lifetime in education, Janet and Jerry retired. Sadly, Jerry passed away in 2004. And so, as the years pass, our story takes another turn.
One of Janet’s granddaughters was playing in a basketball tournament in Brownsville near Bowling Green. “Don and I had stayed in touch over the years after Jerry and Lucy had passed away and I called Don, who was living in Bowling Green, and asked if he would take the girls and me to the game,” Janet remembered. “The game was out in the country, and I wasn’t confident I could find the gym by myself.”
“After the game, Don took us to the Dairy Queen in Brownsville. Well, the girls on the team made a big deal out of our being together, and—incurable romantics as young girls can be—they started calling us ‘The Legends.’ You might say our romance began over an order of Dairy Queen burgers and Blizzards,” Janet laughs!
Months passed, but the DQ heartburn continued as Don and Janet began texting and talking on the phone—about the fortunes of UK basketball, the latest sitcoms on TV, the news, and any opportunity to talk.
The oven’s heating up and it’s time to check on our cobbler.
After about nine months or so, Janet invited Don to come to Louisville and see her home and get together in person. “You know,” Janet smiles, recalling, “we had so much in common. Our history, friends, church—and we liked each other’s company—so we became engaged and were married on September 8, 2018.”
When you talk to Don and Janet, the two “Legends,” as the girls called them, you quickly see how perfect they are for one another. They share a melody of memories, love, faith and laughter—sweet as grandmother’s peach cobbler and as filling as a DQ Blizzard.
“I always taught Sunday School and sang in the choir and loved working with young people,” Don remembers. Along the way, he was active in Kiwanis—even becoming the Lieutenant Governor of the Kentucky-Tennessee District. Today Don continues in a leadership position and, following his strong faith, he serves as an Elder at Beargrass, and he and Janet are active in the Fellowship Sunday School class.
Like the time-tested ingredients of grandmother’s peach cobbler, Janet and Don have blended lives filled with joy, faith, love, and laughter. If you haven’t had the chance, be sure to introduce yourself to Don and Janet. You can’t miss them—they’re the ones with the infectious smiles—and right-out-of-the-oven warmth.
Our recipe ends here—our baking complete. Oh, one last thing. Be sure to toss a nickel in the offering plate this Sunday—it makes all the difference in the world!
We Are One Together is a new monthly news feature by and about church members that celebrates the beautiful, diverse stories that make up our Beargrass family.
If you would like to be featured in an upcoming edition of We Are One Together or would like to recommend one of our members to be included please contact Bob Morris at 270-316-1267 or by email at bm*********@***oo.com.