Charles (Chuck) Kensinger

NAMES

August 4, 2025

Wouldn’t it be awful if your parents named you something weird, like Rainbow, Teflon, or Young White Child? Or even worse, Sue, as the young man in Johnny Cash’s hit song “The Boy Named Sue” was monicured. Fortunately, my parents named me Charles Eugene.

Growing up, I often asked my mother where my name came from. She told me that Charles was from a soap opera that she watched when I was born. I have searched IMDB to find either an actor or a character from the soaps she watched when I was a kid. I could not find any. If you know of someone from the 1950s, let me know in the comments.

When our children were born, my wife and I chose names that we thought would prevent teasing. All three had first names that became some of the most popular when they reached high school. Our youngest was given a name that my wife thought she had created by combining the names of two friends.

Later, a character in a current soap opera had this name, and it became so popular that her name was no longer unique. I have noticed over the years that this is the way things normally happen. Trend setters want to be unique. I guess we should be happy to be the first. The problem is that you are usually just ranked as another follower.

My oldest brother was named after Dad and Mom’s fathers. My other brother was the second Evan in our family. Dad was the first. I am happy to report that his name is now coming back into use. My name, however, seems to be falling out of style.

With all three of our daughters, I suggested an old family name, Beelzebub. She did not find it funny. She also does not laugh anymore when she says that something is driving her crazy, and I reply, “That’s not a drive. It’s a short putt.”

We currently have a dog named Biscuit and a cat called Essa. Biscuit has the coloring of a biscuit, but nothing like the dog in the picture books by that name. We don’t know why the Humane Society personnel called the feline Essa. I guess someone thought that was what she looked like.

Some of you may wonder about my name being Charles, but my friends call me Chuck. I worked with a young man who answered the phone one day and told the person on the other end that we did not have a Charles. It was my Mother. She informed him that we most certainly had a Charles, but they called him Chuck, which was not my name.

I changed it to Chuck because I was tired of being called Charlie. I waited until I hoped I was old enough not to be called Chuckie, and then a doll by that name starred in a horror movie, and suddenly people were calling me that. My roommate in college called me by a nickname that no one else has ever used. Ron, if you are reading this, keep your mouth shut.

I haven’t published a lot of fiction at this point. What I do write is under the name of Chuck Kensinger. I decided in deference to my Mother that all my non-fiction would be under what she calls my real name, and any fiction under Chuck is just a made-up nickname.

MONDAY, MONDAY

August 2, 2025

Remember in high school how you could not wait to get to school on Monday each week and see the friends that you did not hang out with on the weekend? You didn’t? That seems odd. I was going to relate that experience to how you look forward to working every Monday morning.

You say you do not look forward to Monday mornings? That seems odd, also. The Apostle Paul tells us that we are to do our work as if it were done for Jesus. If you were working for Jesus, you would be chomping at the bit for Monday, wouldn’t you? While our fellow workers are praising God for Friday, shouldn’t we praise Him for Monday and the opportunity to earn our own living?

Most think there is something wrong with “TGIM”. The universe began on Monday morning. According to the Western point of view, the first full day after Jesus’ resurrection was Monday. Since work should be looked on by the Christian as a blessing, shouldn’t the beginning of the work week be a blessing also?

I’m talking about craziness. No one likes Mondays, and they never will. While unemployed, I dreaded the work week. Others returned to the job. Thousands like me joined the unemployment lines. We went to our computers and looked for work. In today’s modern society, the line is online. Most companies do not accept applications in person anymore. When you go to Wal-Mart to apply for a job, you are directed to an in-store computer where you can fill out the employment application.

The hardest job I have ever had was searching for employment. The agencies had my number. I received a few calls from them. Mostly, I received rejections from everyone. My twenty-five years in sales and customer service aided somewhat in keeping me from being overly depressed. Almost three years without regular work does take its toll.

These are the things I thought about this Monday. TGIM, thank God it is Monday and there is work to be done. My work now is writing. This is also my continuing ministry. I spent over forty years as a workplace minister until there was no workplace to minister in.

When I worked at Positronic Industries, that was my ideal job. I began as a buyer in the purchasing department and became a purchasing supervisor three months later. I was excited to go to work every day. Turn your work life over to Jesus and let Him become your boss.

The job I retired from was not as easy to handle as Positronic. There was stress from a boss who did not want me to make any of my own decisions. Everything had to be done the way he wanted it, and he did not understand when delivery dates or truck pickup times did not fit his schedule.

I kept telling myself that I was working for Jesus and not him. I made it through every day because I wasn’t trying to please anyone but my Lord. That worked for me. I hope it will work for you as well.

President of spin

July 31, 2025

Am I talking about Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, or Joe Biden? I’m not talking about any of the democrats that the seventh district Republicans like to denigrate. We all want to condemn those with whom we do not agree. We can’t agree with those who want abortion to be legal. We cannot approve anything that the LGBTQ+ community supports.

The fastest way for a candidate to gain support from the “Christian” community is to attack abortionists and gay organizations. One can divorce and remarry, and that is tolerated. You may abuse your wife or children. You may call the people you disagree with names. You can lie about them. Accuse them of destroying our economy when their policies have caused it to recover from the bad decisions that you made.

Be sure that you spin them as being bad. Criticize what they have done. Take credit for the positive things that you had nothing to do with. Find groups of terrible people that we all want to force from our society. Criminals are perfect for this. There is no one worse than those who are not in our country legally.

Promise to deport these lawbreakers. When you start this process, do not worry about what it means to be a criminal. You are from the wrong side of the border, so you must go even if you follow our laws and have done nothing wrong. How can we make this sound like it is appropriate? That person is a gang member, even if there is no proof of this.

How many times does it take for you to tell a lie before people believe it? Do not look at those you don’t like as being innocent until proven guilty. Yes, that is in our Constitution. Who cares about that old document? If it disagrees with me, I will not let it stop me from doing what I want to do.

If I am the governor of a state, then what happens on the national front is of no consequence to me. If it looks like the Attorney General of the U.S. or any state has lied, misplaced, or destroyed documents, this is of no interest to any other politician, especially from the same party. Whatever you do, you cannot allow any facts that might make one of your own parties look bad to reach the voting public.

You do know that we are right and anyone who disagrees with us must be pure evil. We want to help those who need the help the most. Billionaires are having such a difficult time paying for their seventh house and supporting their twentieth mistress and her family. After all, I helped her get off welfare, at least if she has sex with me.

It does not matter what party you vote for; if these are your beliefs, you will get what you voted for. A despotic government that will turn on you when they’ve murdered all the intelligent people. Pull your head out of your rear and look at the candidates in 2026. How have they treated their enemies for the last year? You could be one of those evil people they will hate.

July 4th, 1975

July 29, 2025

I have a few more stories about fifty years ago that I thought you might enjoy. A few days before Marianne and Phil, and the rest of the family left on their annual vacation to see their other son in Tennessee, he showed me how to light the heater in the house I was staying in.

I thought this was unusual and said as much. This Ozarks boy knew that you did not need a heater in July. Apparently, that is not true in the Allegheny Mountains. The weather forecast predicted a cold front coming to the area during the next week. On the morning of the fourth, the temperature was 32 degrees in Gifford. I lit the gas.

I mentioned in a previous column that I had made two trips to Niagara Falls that summer. The first was on the church bus with the youth from Bolivar Road and Hilltop. A month later, my brother Sam and I went back when he stopped to see me on his way from Chicago to Florida.

We visited some museums and spent a lot of time on the Canadian side. On more than one occasion, a young boy kept crawling under the ropes that were designed to keep tourists from getting too close to the cliff edge. Each time this happened, we remarked that the parents should keep a closer eye on him.

After we drove back to Gifford, we went to bed, and after seeing him off the next morning, I had my regular Sunday schedule. That evening, I went into the main house with the family to relax and watch television. The broadcast was from a station in Buffalo.

A story was headlined about an accidental death on the previous day in Nagara Falls, Canada. As we watched this story, they showed a photograph of a boy who had fallen off a cliff because he had gone beyond the safety barricades. It was the same boy we had seen the day before.

After returning home, Michelle and I spoke to a few churches about our experiences during the summer. Remember, Michelle was another student from SWBC who was in Bradford. Summer missionaries are out there right now working in churches and ministries all around the world. If you know one, thank them for me.

Land of the Yankees

July 26, 2025

Yes, I am referring to Pennsylvania as the home of the Yankees, not the Phillies. I am from southwest Missouri. Sometimes referred to as the Ozarks. We are hillbillies and definite southerners. Travel another hour or two north in our state, and that statement is not true.

When Marianne asked me for my favorite foods, I shared that they were brown beans and cornbread. The ladies of the churches had no problem with the beans. Cornbread threw them, though. This was before Paula Dean and other southern chefs were all over the cable networks.

There was a white bread that had whole kernel corn floating in the loaf at most dinners I was invited to attend. Apparently, only one woman in the church had a recipe called Corn Bread, and that was it. When I enquired about this dish, I was told this. I explained the recipe for our cornbread, and it was told to me that it was called Johnny Cake. That is a Yankee name for sure.

During the summer, a church from North Carolina came to help us with backyard Bible clubs and a revival. When they arrived on their bus, I found out that I would have to translate for the students. The girls had the same challenge. Fortunately, we were all schooled in both southern and northern dialects.

Bradford is five miles from the New York State line, and Buffalo, New York, is one hundred miles north. I was able to travel to Buffalo and Niagara Falls twice during the summer. In one of the museums, I read about the last person to survive going over the falls. He was a young boy at that time, and I realized that we were the same age.

When it was time to return home, I was taken to Bradford airport and boarded a plane for Pittsburgh. I chose to fly home because I wanted to return as soon as possible. From Pittsburgh, we went to St. Louis, and I was supposed to have a one-hour layover. Once inside the terminal, I looked at my watch and I had five minutes to go halfway across the facility.

When I arrived at the gate five minutes late, I saw a clock on the wall. My watch was set to Eastern Time, and I was now in the Central Time zone. I still had my hour. This was my first time flying, and I loved all three legs of the trip to Springfield.

We celebrated my birthday that first night back. I was twenty when I boarded the bus and twenty-one when I boarded the plane in Bradford. I opened my presents, and Cindy and I went out to a movie. Don’t ask me what we saw. All I saw was her.

I’ve spent the last fifty years enjoying looking at her every day. Those ten weeks apart from her made me push to plan our wedding after I had graduated the next spring. Two weeks after the wedding, my job moved us. I knew that it could happen, and that was why we had to get married. I never wanted to be away from her again.

This was my first and only opportunity to be a church pastor. My ministry has been working as a workplace minister. My congregation was the people I encountered at my job. This wasn’t always just fellow employees. It was customers, vendors, and management at all the companies I worked for and visited.

Today, you are the ones that I want to benefit from everything I have learned during my lifetime. Fifty years of business experience, church membership, and Bible study are at your disposal. Thanks for logging in.

Gifford

July 24, 2025

I began in ‘Fifty Years Ago’ by telling you about where I was in 1975. I found myself in the city of Gifford, Pennsylvania. I was serving as a summer missionary and had a family for the summer that was not my birth family. I told you about Phil, Marriane, and Mary Anne. Let me tell you about the rest of the family.

Down the road lived Skip, also known as Phil, Jr., and his wife and children. Somewhat further away was David, his wife, and their child. I could walk to these two homes from the old house where I was staying. Phil and Marianne had moved into a house that was scheduled for demolition, rather than building a new house on the family property, as their two sons had done.

Also on the property was a mobile sanctuary for Hilltop Baptist Chapel. It was a modified trailer house provided by the Southern Baptist Home Mission Board. That summer, I learned a great deal about what HMB did for the ministries that were under their auspices.

The pastor at Bolivar Road Baptist in Bradford served at Hilltop as well as the home church. For that summer, he did not have to skip Sunday School to drive up the mountain to preach first, then back down for their services. I preached Sunday Mornings, led a Bible Study Sunday Night, and a prayer meeting on Wednesday night.

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Included in our ministries, mine and my fellow summer missionaries, were Vacation Bible School and revivals at these two churches, as well as two other churches that our youth groups went to for the summer months.

On Sunday Nights, I went to help the youth choir at Bolivar Road. The ladies were leading and joining the youth. I joined them as well. For the first week. The second week, I was asked to talk with the ladies before practice. They asked me not to sing with the choir. So, I helped off stage and behind the scenes. I have told people for fifty years that I am the only person I know who was asked to leave a youth choir.

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Fortunately, I already knew that I could not carry a tune in a bucket. I learned that in the sixth grade, our new music teacher took four of us aside for special training to help us sing on key. After six months, she gave up on two of us. She decided nothing she did would help us,

Back on the mountain, I would walk a trail into the trees whenever I had spare time. During the day, I took my Bible with me and would study where God was the only one to teach me. I’ve been letting Him do that for me for fifty years now.

At night, when I walked into the trees, I was careful to stay on the trail, only to go a few feet in. Having spent a lot of time on farms in Missouri, I was not your ordinary city boy. I have milked cows, plucked chickens, and picked many different fruits, vegetables, and berries. After the woods were engulfed in darkness, the stars shining through the trees were beautiful.

It is difficult to condense ten weeks into a couple of columns. Look for the true story of an Ozarks boy in the land of Yankees in the next report. See you then.

Fifty Years Ago

July 22, 2025

Yes, I was alive in 1975. If you were not, let me brief you on some things. There were no cell phones, home computers, or personal video games. There was college, and I had just finished my junior year at Southwest Baptist College in Bolivar, MO. In the fall of the previous year, I transferred there.

As I walked around my new campus, I saw signs requesting interested students to apply to be summer missionaries. I did just that and received my assignment in the spring. I would be going to Bradford, PA, for ten weeks starting in June.

When I applied, I had not met Cindy. By early June, we had been dating about eight months, and I was dreading being away from her for the summer. She went with Dad, Mom, and my sister to take me to the Continental Trailways Bus Station. You may have been there also. It is now the Discovery Center on St. Louis St.

I chose the bus to view some of America for the next twenty-four hours. We took I-44 to St. Louis, MO and then I-70 through Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and into Pennsylvania. We stopped a few times en route, and the last one was for breakfast in Pittsburgh. I decided to find a café and went exploring outside the station. Smoke and the smell of the city drove me back inside and I grabbed something at the snack bar.

When we arrived at Harrisburg, I waited for my ride. I was on time and, after an hour, called the Baptist building to check. They told me that they wondered why I had not been at the airport like others. I waited another thirty minutes for a ride. We checked into a hotel, and I shared a room with another guy.

We spent two days training. There were over fifty students that would scatter across PA and North Jersey. I met Charlie Brown that summer. He was a seminary student who drove in. He had a VW with a CB radio that resembled a car phone. Remember this was the seventies and the CB craze was on.

When we left the state capital for Bradford, there were four of us with our driver from Bolivar Road Baptist Church. Michelle was from SWBC and lived in Bolivar, MO. Rhonda was from Texas, and I remember the other as Kentuck. Guess where she was from? Michelle and I had not met back home before that summer.

When we arrived at the church in Bradford, we split into four different homes. We had a brief meeting with the pastor, and I got in a car with Phil. We drove up the mountain to Gifford where I would be the summer pastor for Hilltop Baptist Chapel. I met the rest of the family and stowed my gear in the house that Phil grew up in.

Marianne was Phil’s wife, and Mary Anne, his daughter. That night I shared about Springfield. How big was it? I told them it was a small town. Only a population of 135 thousand. They looked at me strangely because the signs said Bradford had 23,000 and Gifford 65.

I met the rest of the family in the next few days. This is just the start of the story. The next column will be “Gifford”. Looking forward to it. See you then.

Judges versus voters

July 16, 2025

As I sit and listen to the words being delivered at a high school speech and debate tournament, my mind wanders momentarily. I am a judge. My mind should not wander. I am here to listen to what these students have trained long and hard to express.

Being a high school speech judge is much like being a voter. You must prove your qualifications to have the right to vote, which are similar to the qualifications for determining who is the best speaker.

You must be breathing. Non-breathers will scare both the politicians and the debaters. While many politicians may have been elected by people who are no longer alive, the actual ballot had to be marked by someone alive at that moment. If you don’t breathe, you cannot write, and to mark an election or a speech ballot, legible symbols are needed. The scratches may not resemble words, but they must be discernible by those people or machines whose job it is to determine and announce the decision.

You must be present. At least in body. Your mind and spirit may be elsewhere, but spirits and minds are not recognized by the officials who give you your ballot(s). They identify and count bodies as historians after a battle or skirmish.

You must prove you exist. The accepted method at a speech tournament is to be present. At an election, identification is needed. In Missouri, a photo ID is now required. This does not prove who you are, but allows the election judges to record that a certain person has already voted and will not be allowed to vote again.

You cannot discuss how you vote with others in the polling place. Judges cannot discuss between themselves after speakers and rounds, how they marked their ballots either. Secrecy in both cases can be broken after the event, if they desire to. I have written about speakers and other things I experienced at these tournaments over the years.

One of my favorite events was extemporaneous speaking. For the non-speakers that are reading this, in this event, you choose a topic fifteen minutes before your time to speak. You have magazines and other resources with you on possible topics. I also kept quotations or poems that could serve as introductions or conclusions.

Today, when I speak in churches or before other groups, I use these techniques. Thinking on my feet and expressing alternative opinions gives me an open mind and helps me make quick decisions. This has served me well in business as a manager, salesman, purchasing agent, and employee.

When you must make decisions, I hope you have these types of abilities, no matter how you learned it. Sports and other types of extracurricular activities can teach many things that are needed for a successful life. Often, we gain these skills by experiencing only when we need them. I’m glad I did not do that.

Friends and family

July 5, 2025

I want to talk to you about several things today. The first is family and friends. I am fortunate that I have had a lot of family all my life. I have two older brothers and a younger sister, thanks to my mom and dad. In addition, there was an abundance of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Many are now gone, but each generation is larger than the last.

The truth is that we are not as close as we once were. We have family reunions and attend funerals and sometimes even weddings. Not like we used to. The youngest generation doesn’t seem to marry as often as we did. Some of my cousins got married two or three times each. We all just tend to die once, and recently we are living longer. I know it isn’t due to healthy living.

What brought on this wave of nostalgia? A commercial about one of these delivery services. A lady is lying in her bed, and there is some unidentified noise and movement around her. The camera pans back, and her bed is caught between two automatic doors. The voice over says, “If you can’t take your bed to the store,” then they will bring whatever you need to you.

Guess what, isn’t that what friends and family are for? In the bad old days before smartphone apps, you just picked up the phone, plugged it into the wall, and called family or a friend to bring you what you needed.

We are suffering from violence, attacks, and other crimes against more people than ever. There seems to be no way to avoid this. My wife and I seldom leave our home at night. We have a security system at our place, and we know our neighbors. We feel secure in our home.

Do we need to have random strangers coming to our home bringing groceries, medications, and prepared food? There are cases where these random strangers return later, and you are no longer safe. If I do not know you, I don’t invite you into my home.

We go out to pick up carry-out. We do not choose Door Ditch, Pan Handle Pete, or Consta Cart to bring things to us. We occasionally ask our pharmacy to deliver prescriptions. We used to call the pizza place for delivery until the drivers looked like the perps on Blue Bloods or the undercover cops from Chicago PD. We have taken medicines for our kids, for their kids, or for ourselves. Especially when they were quarantined during the COVID-19 crisis.

Have you seen the original Crocodile Dundee movie? You know, the one named “Crocodile Dundee.” There is a scene in it where Dundee is told that the reporter he is visiting in New York needs to go to a therapist. Mick doesn’t understand. He asks, “Don’t you have any mates?”

Friends, family, or mates used to help each other out. They still do in some communities. Our neighbors, church community, and close family still do. I’ve been called by cousins and friends to officiate at weddings and funerals, as well as get someone to a doctor or take food for them when they are ill. It costs us money not to have people we trust and on whom we can depend.

The next time you need something and can’t go get it for yourself, stop and think of whom you can call to bring it to you. Can’t think of anyone? How about one of those that you did the same thing for last week? It’s been a while since you helped someone else? Maybe that is the problem?

THE MARSHFIELD PARADE

July 3, 2025

Around thirty miles from Springfield, Missouri, east on Interstate 44 is Marshfield. President George H.W. Bush visited there in 1991, and he was the second sitting President to do so. Harry S. Truman came in 1948 to be in the annual Independence Day Parade. This is the longest-running parade west of the Mississippi. For the Christian, it is a family-friendly event.

The square around the Webster County courthouse is filled with rides, food vendors, music, and during election years speeches. This will not be one of those years. This is no sophisticated big-city event. This is a county fair celebration.

The parade features antique tractors, horses, classic cars, bands, and patriotic floats by churches and civic organizations. Those who like the glitz and glamour of the Macy’s parades may want to skip Marshfield. No show-stopping here. Unless the livestock gets loose. If you are anti-American or atheist, do not attend if you are offended easily. Almost every area of America has a small town that goes all out for the Fourth of July. Marshfield is one of the Ozarks.

At one time it was unusual to visit Marshfield for the parade without running into a cousin or someone else from childhood. Most of the family have left Webster County, but a few family members and friends are still around. The crowds are larger and as with any gathering, more people mean crowding and rude behavior. Because of this and the fact that Springfield now has a Mid-Town parade, Marshfield no longer has the draw for my family that it once did.

These days you will find us at the Midtown Springfield Independence Day Parade. You do not have to ask about the date. The parade steps off from Central and Benton at 10:00 a.m. Bring your own folding chairs, a blanket, and anything you need while you wait until it starts. The route is down Benton Ave. to Washington Park.

At the park, there will be an ice cream social with games and fun activities for the whole family. Food trucks and other vendors will be available. Remember that fireworks are illegal inside the city limits of Springfield year-round. There is no permission for them even around the fourth of July.

Enjoy your Independence Day celebration wherever you are. The Fourth of July is about the anniversary of the signing of The Declaration of Independence. Without that brave act by dedicated men, the United States of America would not exist. Have fun and support our Constitution and the government that President Lincoln said is by us, for us, and through us.