Life at the Lumberyard

Today, March 28th, 2023, we celebrate our one thousandth day at Dunlaps.  What a journey it has been... We have learned so much about our community, the lumber market, products of all types - from tapcons to strike plates to stain to underlayment and everything in between. We've learned about what it means to maintain a business and what it takes to grow a business. And how nearly impossible those tasks can be. I've learned about a global pandemic can do to shipping and the price of raw materials. Sadly, I've learned that big businesses have found ways to create shortages to overinflate prices and hurt little guys and small town America. But on the other side, I've learned how important our dinky hardware store can be and how needed we are.  There have been so many memories and moments jammed into those thousand days. I think about some of our first moments -- they were such a blur and so scary. I think about how tight money has been at times and sing that one Oak Ridge...

  “Talk about an uphill battle…”  Today we traveled to the Indiana State House to celebrate 100 years (technically 2020 was our year, but, you know… the world…) … 103 years of Meyer Farms.  I feel so unworthy to be at the forefront of this special Hoosier Homestead Award and this special day. I think about what my ancestors did and had to endure and it makes me so proud, but also feel so sickly spoiled.  I think about the stories… and wonder about all the forgotten ones. My great great grandmother, Franciska, was the daughter of a large land owner and farmer in Holland. Arranged by her parents, she was to marry a highly ranked Army General, but she was madly  in love with her father’s head farm hand.  She was 22 and the farm hand was 31.  The story goes that she mentioned her feelings for this farm hand to her father, but he dismissed the idea as he had already promised the military man her hand. Weeks before her wedding and by the cover of night,...

This post is the oddest blog post to write because I do not know a lot of history and I am only left to speculate and assume some of this story - a story that I am now a bigger part of than I ever thought I’d be. I guess now would be nice to throw in my “Allen-ism”, and that is: don’t let facts get in the way of a good story. I’d love for you to add or bend my story.   Some of you may remember a man in a baseball cap riding a bike around the side streets of Batesville behind the Middle and Intermediate Schools in the 80s and 90s. My only brief memory is a middle aged man with a big smile and an even bigger wave on a big bike with a big basket in the front, riding so slowly near 2nd Street - treating the buses as if the kids aboard were in a parade after school. His smile - so big and bright. Seemingly not a care in the world. I can remember seeing him several times over my bus riding years. But if you talk to others - this was a daily occurrence for the man. I remember thinkin...