Nature: Clyde Gosnell and Omie Warner are extraordinary conservationists

Yahoo

2 days ago

Yahoo

Nature: Clyde Gosnell and Omie Warner are extraordinary conservationists

The year 1930 brought momentous impacts for conservation in Ohio. The Great Depression was setting in, but the dates of Jan. 19 and June 24 launched two people, who would eventually have an outsized impact on the stewardship of the Buckeye State's natural resources. Louise 'Omie' Warner was born on the earlier date, and Clyde Gosnell the latter date. It would be some time before their paths would cross, but they'd eventually become a power couple in conservation. Warner was married to Dr. Jack Warner until his death in 1996, and Gosnell was married for 44 years to his first wife, Sue. When Gosnell and Warner met, there was an instant attraction, and they married in 2001. They remain deeply in love to this day. Even at the age of 94, both are hearty, hale, creative thinkers and whirlwinds of ideas and activities. Both became interested in nature as kids, but career paths followed different trajectories. Warner became an anesthesiologist, and Gosnell an architect. Warner had a long and distinguished medical career, and Gosnell left a big architectural imprint on Columbus. Nature: Eastern tent caterpillar nests can be seen throughout Ohio He specialized in hospital design and had major roles in the design of Grant, Mount Carmel and St. Ann's hospitals — and about 45 other medical centers. He also designed parts of the Pontifical College Josephinum, but undoubtedly, his best-known work was the iconic Christopher Inn on East Broad Street. Warner did not let the grass grow under her feet, even while actively working. Her first husband had purchased 236 acres of land in Delaware County in 1953. He decided to preserve the wetlands and woodlands and use part of the property for sustainable agriculture. Inspired by their daughter Gale's vision, the two turned the property into the Stratford Ecological Center, an educational showcase of the best agricultural practices. Woodlands on the property host scads of breeding salamanders and other wildlife. Stratford opened in 1993 and hosts around 16,000 visitors annually — over half of them children. Because of her contributions, Warner was inducted into the Delaware County Agricultural Hall of Fame. Prior to his architectural career, Gosnell enlisted in the army and spent 15 months on the ground during the Korean War. At one point, his unit received airstrike support from two young Air Force aviators who would later achieve fame as astronauts: Buzz Aldrin and John Glenn. Much later, inspired by astronomer Brad Hoehne, Gosnell and Warner worked tirelessly to establish the John Glenn Astronomy Park at Old Man's Cave in Hocking Hills, which opened in 2018. Astronomical education was by no means their only contribution to the betterment of Hocking Hills State Park, which sees over 4 million visitors annually. After much leg work, along with naturalist Paul Knoop, they convinced both the Ohio Departments of Natural Resources and Transportation to reroute State Route 664, which passes near Old Man's Cave. The former alignment forced visitors to cross the busy road near a blind corner, creating a dangerous situation. The new risk-free reroute was completed in 2011, and millions of people are the beneficiaries. Many people, especially birders, appreciate the massive prairie/wetland complex at Battelle Darby Metro Park in southwest Franklin County. Nature: Orchids grow spectacularly in Ohio Gosnell, along with his buddy Jack McDowell, visited relict prairies to collect the seed that spawned the prairie, which now harbors bell's vireos, blue grosbeaks, sedge wrens, northern harriers, short-eared owls and much more. Consummate naturalists and born educators, Gosnell and Warner have long hosted Trillium Fest at their Mathias Grove property on the northern fringe of Hocking Hills. Thousands of people have attended the mid-April event over the many years they've opened their property. The lure is an awe-inspiring forest blanketed with red trillium and large-flowered trillium — the latter is Ohio's state wildflower. Gosnell also expresses the beauty of nature through his art. He got interested in painting decades ago and has produced scores of works. Several years ago, he gifted me a beautiful watercolor of darters in Big Darby Creek. It features four species of the little perch family members, including the rare Tippecanoe darter. The eye-catching painting owns space on a prominent wall of my home. This brief column can only cover the tip of the iceberg regarding Gosnell and Warner's accomplishments. The numerous awards they've received over the years reflect their many achievements. Insatiable intellectual curiosity, out-of-the-box thinking and a tireless work ethic are rare attributes. Combine them all in one person and you've got a one in a million. Put two one in a millions together and you've got Gosnell and Warner. We owe a huge debt of gratitude to this power couple, whose work will benefit people for generations to come. Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first and third Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at jim This article originally appeared on The Columbus Dispatch: Nature: Clyde Gosnell and Omie Warner are top conservationists

75 years after he was kidnapped to North Korea, these sisters still hope to see their brother

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2 days ago

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75 years after he was kidnapped to North Korea, these sisters still hope to see their brother

Min Young-jae has not seen or heard anything about her eldest brother for 75 years. He was 19 and she was only 2 when, during the early days of the Korean War, he was kidnapped to the North. 'We were known in the neighborhood as a happy family,' the now 77-year-old told CNN, as her older sister Min Jeong-ja nodded in agreement. Their peaceful days were shattered on June 25, 1950, when North Korea invaded the South. The three-year war would kill more than 847,000 troops and about 522,000 civilians from both sides, and tear apart more than 100,000 families, including Min's. After the war, the family kept the rusting doors of their tile-roofed house open, in hopes that their eldest would one day return. But over time, barbed wire has been installed between the two Koreas, and a modern apartment complex has replaced the house. Though 75 years have passed without a single word about or from the brother, Min and her siblings remain hopeful that they will hear about him some day. Or, if not him, then his children or grandchildren. The family lived in Dangnim village, nestled between green mountains on the western side of Chuncheon city, nearly 100 kilometers northeast of Seoul. It was a village of chirping birds, streaming water and chugging tractors. It was also dangerously close to the 38th parallel, which divided the peninsula after World War II. Min Young-jae, the youngest of seven, does not remember fighting with any of her siblings growing up; only sharing tofu that her parents made, splashing in the stream and being carried around on her eldest brother's shoulders. Handsome, kind and smart, Min Young-sun was studying at the Chuncheon National University of Education, following in the footsteps of his father, the principal of Dangnim Elementary School. 'His nickname was 'Math Whiz.' He excelled in math, even his classmates called him Math Whiz,' Min Jeong-ja, the fifth child of the family, said. Some days, students followed him all the way home, as he commuted via train and boat, asking him to teach math, the sisters recalled. The sisters remember Min Young-sun as a caring brother. They caught fish and splashed in the nearby stream, now widely covered with reeds and weeds and almost out of water. 'We grew up in real happiness,' Min Jeong-ja said. Living near the frontier between the newly separated Koreas – backed by the rival ideological forces of communism or capitalism – Min's family was among the first to experience the horrors of the Korean War. When Kim Il Sung's North Korean troops invaded, Min Jeong-ja remembers seeing her grandmother running in tears, with a cow in tow, screaming: 'We're in a war!' 'We all spread out and hid in the mountains, because we were scared. One day, we hid the 4-year-old, Young-jae, in the bushes and forgot to bring her back because we had so many siblings. When we returned that night, she was still there, not even crying,' Min Jeong-ja said. While the family was running in and out of the mountains, taking shelter from the troops coming from the North, Min Young-sun was kidnapped, taken to the North by his teacher. 'The teacher gathered smart students and hauled them (away). He took several students, tens of them. Took them to the North,' Min Jeong-ja said. It is unknown why the teacher would have kidnapped the students to North Korea, but the South Korean government assumes that Pyongyang had abducted South Koreans to supplement its military. 'People called the teacher a commie,' Min Jeong-ja said. That heartache was soon followed by another: the death of the second-eldest brother. He died of shock and pain, in deep sorrow from the kidnap of his brother, according to the sisters. 'The grief was huge. Our parents lost two sons… imagine how heartbreaking that would be,' Min Jeong-ja said. For their father, the pain of losing two sons was overwhelming. He developed a panic disorder, she said, and would struggle to work for the rest of his life. 'He couldn't go outside; he stayed home all the time. And because he was hugely shocked, he struggled going through day-to-day life. So, our mom went out (to work) and suffered a lot,' Min Young-jae said. The mother jumped into earning a living for the remaining five children and her husband. Still, every morning she prayed for Min Young-sun, filling a bowl with pure water as part of a Korean folk ritual and leaving the first scoop of the family's rice serving that day in a bowl for a son whom she believed would return one day. 'She couldn't move house; in case the brother cannot find his way back home. She wouldn't let us change anything of the house, not even the doors. That's how she waited for him… We waited for so long, and time just passed,' Min Jeong-ja said. Min Jeong-ja was 8 years old when the war started, but witnessed brutality that would overwhelm many adults. 'So many kids died. When I went out to the river to wash clothes, I occasionally saw bodies of children floating,' she recalled. She remembers witnessing North Korean soldiers lining up people in a barley field, and shooting at them with submachine guns. 'Then one by one, they fell on the barley field.' 'I saw too much. At one point – I didn't even know if the soldier was a South Korean or North Korean – but I saw beheaded remains.' The Min family is one of many torn apart by the war. More than 134,000 people are still waiting to hear from their loved ones believed to be in North Korea, which is now one of the world's most reclusive states, with travel between the two countries nigh-on impossible. Years after the Korean War, the two Koreas discussed organizing reunions for the separated families that have been identified from both sides through the Red Cross and both governments. The first reunion happened in 1985, more than 30 years after the ceasefire agreement was signed, and the annual reunions kicked off in 2000, when many first-hand war victims were still alive, but occasionally halted when tensions escalated on the peninsula. Once the two governments agree on a reunion date, one of the two Koreas selects families, prioritizing the elderly and immediate relatives, then shares the list with the other, which would cross check the family on its side to confirm the list of around 100 members. The selected families would meet at an office specifically built for reunions at the Mount Kumgang resort in North Korea. The Min siblings applied to the Red Cross at least five times and listed themselves under the South Korean government as a separated family. But there was never any word on their brother's whereabouts from the other side. As 75 years passed, the siblings grew up, got married, and formed their own families – but questions about their stolen brother linger. Even worse, the annual reunions of separated families have been halted since 2018, following failed summit between US President Donald Trump and North Korea's leader Kim Jong Un in Hanoi, while first-hand victims of the war age and pass away. The Kumgang resort was dismantled by the North in 2022, also amid strained tensions. But the siblings, following their parents' wishes, still hope to connect with Min Young-sun, who would now be 94 years old. 'My brother Young-sun, it's already been 75 years,' Min Young-jae said into a CNN camera, taking her glasses off so that he would recognize his sister's face. 'It's been a long time since we were separated, but I would be so grateful if you're alive. And if you're not, I still would love to meet your children. I want to share the love of family, remembering the happy days of the past… I love you, thank you.' She and the siblings remember the kidnapped brother by singing his favorite song, 'Thinking of My Brother,' a children's song about a brother that never returned. 'My brother, you said you would come back from Seoul with silk shoes,' Min Young-jae sang, while her sister wiped away tears.

CNN

2 days ago

CNN

75 years after he was kidnapped to North Korea, these sisters still hope to see their brother

Min Young-jae has not seen or heard anything about her eldest brother for 75 years. He was 19 and she was only 2 when, during the early days of the Korean War, he was kidnapped to the North. 'We were known in the neighborhood as a happy family,' the now 77-year-old told CNN, as her older sister Min Jeong-ja nodded in agreement. Their peaceful days were shattered on June 25, 1950, when North Korea invaded the South. The three-year war would kill more than 847,000 troops and about 522,000 civilians from both sides, and tear apart more than 100,000 families, including Min's. After the war, the family kept the rusting doors of their tile-roofed house open, in hopes that their eldest would one day return. But over time, barbed wire has been installed between the two Koreas, and a modern apartment complex has replaced the house. Though 75 years have passed without a single word about or from the brother, Min and her siblings remain hopeful that they will hear about him some day. Or, if not him, then his children or grandchildren. The family lived in Dangnim village, nestled between green mountains on the western side of Chuncheon city, nearly 100 kilometers northeast of Seoul. It was a village of chirping birds, streaming water and chugging tractors. It was also dangerously close to the 38th parallel, which divided the peninsula after World War II. Min Young-jae, the youngest of seven, does not remember fighting with any of her siblings growing up; only sharing tofu that her parents made, splashing in the stream and being carried around on her eldest brother's shoulders. Handsome, kind and smart, Min Young-sun was studying at the Chuncheon National University of Education, following in the footsteps of his father, the principal of Dangnim Elementary School. 'His nickname was 'Math Whiz.' He excelled in math, even his classmates called him Math Whiz,' Min Jeong-ja, the fifth child of the family, said. Some days, students followed him all the way home, as he commuted via train and boat, asking him to teach math, the sisters recalled. The sisters remember Min Young-sun as a caring brother. They caught fish and splashed in the nearby stream, now widely covered with reeds and weeds and almost out of water. 'We grew up in real happiness,' Min Jeong-ja said. Living near the frontier between the newly separated Koreas – backed by the rival ideological forces of communism or capitalism – Min's family was among the first to experience the horrors of the Korean War. When Kim Il Sung's North Korean troops invaded, Min Jeong-ja remembers seeing her grandmother running in tears, with a cow in tow, screaming: 'We're in a war!' 'We all spread out and hid in the mountains, because we were scared. One day, we hid the 4-year-old, Young-jae, in the bushes and forgot to bring her back because we had so many siblings. When we returned that night, she was still there, not even crying,' Min Jeong-ja said. While the family was running in and out of the mountains, taking shelter from the troops coming from the North, Min Young-sun was kidnapped, taken to the North by his teacher. 'The teacher gathered smart students and hauled them (away). He took several students, tens of them. Took them to the North,' Min Jeong-ja said. It is unknown why the teacher would have kidnapped the students to North Korea, but the South Korean government assumes that Pyongyang had abducted South Koreans to supplement its military. 'People called the teacher a commie,' Min Jeong-ja said. That heartache was soon followed by another: the death of the second-eldest brother. He died of shock and pain, in deep sorrow from the kidnap of his brother, according to the sisters. 'The grief was huge. Our parents lost two sons… imagine how heartbreaking that would be,' Min Jeong-ja said. For their father, the pain of losing two sons was overwhelming. He developed a panic disorder, she said, and would struggle to work for the rest of his life. 'He couldn't go outside; he stayed home all the time. And because he was hugely shocked, he struggled going through day-to-day life. So, our mom went out (to work) and suffered a lot,' Min Young-jae said. The mother jumped into earning a living for the remaining five children and her husband. Still, every morning she prayed for Min Young-sun, filling a bowl with pure water as part of a Korean folk ritual and leaving the first scoop of the family's rice serving that day in a bowl for a son whom she believed would return one day. 'She couldn't move house; in case the brother cannot find his way back home. She wouldn't let us change anything of the house, not even the doors. That's how she waited for him… We waited for so long, and time just passed,' Min Jeong-ja said. Min Jeong-ja was 8 years old when the war started, but witnessed brutality that would overwhelm many adults. 'So many kids died. When I went out to the river to wash clothes, I occasionally saw bodies of children floating,' she recalled. She remembers witnessing North Korean soldiers lining up people in a barley field, and shooting at them with submachine guns. 'Then one by one, they fell on the barley field.' 'I saw too much. At one point – I didn't even know if the soldier was a South Korean or North Korean – but I saw beheaded remains.' The Min family is one of many torn apart by the war. More than 134,000 people are still waiting to hear from their loved ones believed to be in North Korea, which is now one of the world's most reclusive states, with travel between the two countries nigh-on impossible. Years after the Korean War, the two Koreas discussed organizing reunions for the separated families that have been identified from both sides through the Red Cross and both governments. The first reunion happened in 1985, more than 30 years after the ceasefire agreement was signed, and the annual reunions kicked off in 2000, when many first-hand war victims were still alive, but occasionally halted when tensions escalated on the peninsula. Once the two governments agree on a reunion date, one of the two Koreas selects families, prioritizing the elderly and immediate relatives, then shares the list with the other, which would cross check the family on its side to confirm the list of around 100 members. The selected families would meet at an office specifically built for reunions at the Mount Kumgang resort in North Korea. The Min siblings applied to the Red Cross at least five times and listed themselves under the South Korean government as a separated family. But there was never any word on their brother's whereabouts from the other side. As 75 years passed, the siblings grew up, got married, and formed their own families – but questions about their stolen brother linger. Even worse, the annual reunions of separated families have been halted since 2018, following failed summit between US President Donald Trump and North Korea's leader Kim Jong Un in Hanoi, while first-hand victims of the war age and pass away. The Kumgang resort was dismantled by the North in 2022, also amid strained tensions. But the siblings, following their parents' wishes, still hope to connect with Min Young-sun, who would now be 94 years old. 'My brother Young-sun, it's already been 75 years,' Min Young-jae said into a CNN camera, taking her glasses off so that he would recognize his sister's face. 'It's been a long time since we were separated, but I would be so grateful if you're alive. And if you're not, I still would love to meet your children. I want to share the love of family, remembering the happy days of the past… I love you, thank you.' She and the siblings remember the kidnapped brother by singing his favorite song, 'Thinking of My Brother,' a children's song about a brother that never returned. 'My brother, you said you would come back from Seoul with silk shoes,' Min Young-jae sang, while her sister wiped away tears.

Nature: Clyde Gosnell and Omie Warner are extraordinary conservationists

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Nature: Clyde Gosnell and Omie Warner are extraordinary conservationists

75 years after he was kidnapped to North Korea, these sisters still hope to see their brother

75 years after he was kidnapped to North Korea, these sisters still hope to see their brother

Nature: Clyde Gosnell and Omie Warner are extraordinary conservationists

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Nature: Clyde Gosnell and Omie Warner are extraordinary conservationists

75 years after he was kidnapped to North Korea, these sisters still hope to see their brother

75 years after he was kidnapped to North Korea, these sisters still hope to see their brother

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