45th Anniversary Dedication: Cassandra Jordan

Jordan is a free-lance writer residing in Goodman. Her career began when at the age of six, she knew she was meant to be a writer. She has grown from a Sam Spade typewriter to the complexities of a computer. Never giving up, she has overcome challenges to share her words with the world.

We recognize and honor Cassandra Jordan, founding Quill staff member, who has been a valuable supporter of the Crowder Quill through the years. Below is her reflection of the experience:

“A person has a dream they want to become a reality.” Jordan said. “There are those who move forward with determination, and others who let the world crush those dreams. It doesn’t matter what others think. The only thing that matters is what you want and believe you can accomplish.”

The snow lies pristine. Unmarked and waiting to be written on. But you know if you venture out, it will be hard. The snow will resist you, suck you down into its coldness and maybe even trip you and you will land on your face. The prospect leaves you standing at the window with your hands in your pockets, the desire rumbling through you, but you turn away. Afraid of the challenge, too timid to try.

When the subject of a literary magazine for Crowder College was brought up, it was met with skeptic raised eyebrows. The Ozark people are a no-nonsense individualist breed. You didn’t find literary magazines lying about the house. The people are too practical to waste their time on trifles.

But Mr. Richard saw the vast white expanse and believed it should be marked by stories and the work of artist. He stepped into the unwelcoming mass of cold and in a small, unused classroom he laid out his dream. We hammered out the details and I named it. We believed it could be done.

People hesitated to send in entries; actually then they were hand delivered to boxes in designated places. They smiled, lifted eyebrows, and a few made condescending remarks. But we didn’t quit, and the thin first edition came out. We met in a small conference room to hand out awards and pass out the magazine. We had made a path, and we hoped others would follow.

It wasn’t easy. The magazine went through many changes. It opened up to students of all grades and the community. The editors encouraged people to express themselves, to dream a dream and turn it into reality. The success of the authors and artist encouraged many. They used their experiences to launch their careers. Over time, the Quill went from twice a year to a single issue, and the school entries were narrowed to high school. It has changed with the times, growing in scope to meet the needs of an ever-changing world. It has won awards and made Crowder shine. It has gone from 20 entries to over a thousand.

The college began with two officer’s barracks and has grown into a beautiful campus of multiple buildings. It has expanded into satellite communities and is a highly respected institution. My sister was among the first to attend. In my family at least four generations have attended Crowder College. It seems that the smallest beginnings leads to something thriving and vibrantly alive.
The magic of holding a book with your work included never gets old nor dims in the eyes of eager artists and writers. At a recent writer’s conference, a young woman came up to me. She had heard me talking about the magazine at a writer’s meeting. She was hoping to find a market for her work and submitted it to the Quill. Her eyes glowed as she told me she had been accepted. The excitement of acceptance, the anticipation of being published made her glow. A reaffirmation of what we had believed in and fought to bring to life.

Think of how many artists and writers have been published in these 45 years. I know I once figured out I had been in about 75% of the issues. My late husband, children and grandchildren have seen their work in the pages of multiple Quills. My youngest was on the staff one semester.

Yes, you can stand at the window looking at the pristine snow, wanting to make your mark but just keep your hands in your pockets, your dreams and visions locked in the safety of your soul.

Safe, but you will never have the opportunity of knowing your words are being read and you are touching people, perhaps changing lives. Of all the things I have written, had published and won honors for…the ones I am proudest of, are my articles in the Standard.

The Nazarene publication goes around the world, printed in many languages and distributed to their missions. I cannot calculate the number of people who have seen and read my words. My dream started out simply as the vision of a young girl sitting in a pear tree, embarrassed by a rejection. A rejection only means you have tried, you have learned and honed your skills. One of my rejections morphed into a very lucrative first place victory in a prestigious contest.

So, do you dare? Do you take your hands out of your pockets and make your mark, share your vision and feel the thrill of accomplishment? Or do you walk away and let others have their moment of glory, as they take their first steps toward a rewarding career.

The blank paper, the pristine canvas, calls out your name. Do you dare to answer the call? Or will you fade into the night, a shadow of what might have been.

Original Quill staff members, 1980:
Cheryl Ball
Patti Bowman
James Paul Dickey
Sally Geeding
Sandy Jordan LeeAnn Sontheimer
Wesley Watkins
Dan Richard, Adviser

History of The Crowder Quill

Past memoirs by Casandra (Sandy) Jordan

“Memories”
By Sandy Jordan, Community Division, Silver, Nonfiction, 2000

This summer I received an invitation to enter the fun of the 20- year celebration of the Crowder Quill. I was invited to join the staff for a third tour of dut, and I just smiled. As you grow older you learn the old adages have a reason for existing; the one that states you can’t go home again is one that is very true. I prefer to remember my first time with the Quill and be thankful for the computer knowledge learned the second time around.

It was a wonderful experience to be in on the birthing process of the Quill. A man had an ideal, an image in his mind Mr. Richards dared to share that vision and the magazine was born. Like all new parents, we had no book of instructions; we had nothing to model the magazine after.

Like a group of excited aunts and uncles we met to bandy around names for the newborn, we combined some, rejected others and finally my name was chosen… The Crowder

Quill. It was one of the most exciting semesters I had attending Crowder College. It’s hard to capture the thrill of holding those first manuscripts, the comradery that developed between editors working on each section. For Lee Ann [Sontheimer] and me, it was sheer magic.

It was such a privilege to walk into the hearts and minds of the contributors, to see what they thought, and what they believed. Everything that comes from the writer is like a child being born, a modern term that might be used is cloning. For each word is a part of the writer’s soul.

The award ceremony was simple, and it was held in the old Burch Room, up near the offices. But the electricity in that room was something living and moving like breath on the waves of time. The people were so proud, the first winners of a new tradition.

I loved the first copy, it came out of the old print shop all smudged and wrinkled. It was destined for the trash, but I kept it for many years, kept it until a house fire reduced it to ashes.

The ideals behind the Quill’s founding were manifested time and time again. The concrete moment of becoming a published writer was etched in time, becoming the turning point for many.

My eldest daughter was about 12 when her first work appeared. Shy, unsure of her talents, she submitted and won. She entered several times and the entries that won shores up her belief in herself. She will never forget entering a Joplin Globe essay contest and winning. The story was about the time Missouri governor dressed in blue jeans among the common people at the Shepherd of the Hills play. The money meant allot to her but the biggest prize was the letter from the governor himself. If she had not had the Quill to encourage and to build up her self confidence, she would never have dared to enter that contest.

My youngest was four when she trotted across the stage for the first time, eyes shining so bright… excited and thrilled. She’s 14 now and has grown, expanded and spread her wings in many ways. She still loves the Quill, still enters it but the competition is so stiff she is learning another valuable lesson; losing doesn’t mean rejection… losing doesn’t take away from you, the author.

Myself, I love the Quill and have had upwards of 15 winning entries over the 35 plus issues it’s published. I’ve been rejected a half dozen times too; you never reach a stage of perfection where everything is a winner. Every judge, every editor is human; they bring in their own beliefs, likes and dislikes. I have been doing word searches for many years now and every so often

I have to change course because a new editor with a new broom comes on board.

But, many of the pieces first seeing the light of day through the Quill have gone on to bigger and better things. “The Squirrel and Dumplings Bride,” “The Old Fiddler,” “That’s No Bull,” and “The Waltz of Remembrance” are all pieces of my Anthology, Tales from My Grandfather’s Attic.

Memories are good things to have; some beautiful memories are like images in an old faded velvet album of no value to anyone but the keeper. People change, values change, ideals and morality change. Each new staff for the Quill bring in their special unique style, and leave indelible memories behind.

I treasure my memories; | treasure the Quill for its voice is lasting, its pages a monument to dreams, hopes and aspirations. A hundred years from now there is a time capsule in

Neosho that will be opened… within its coffin is a copy of the Crowder Quill. If the Quill doesn’t make it that many years, at least one copy will be around to show the people how we thought and felt, what we treasured and what we hoped for.

No, you can’t go home again, you can’t expect to find things unchanged. But, remember change is not always bad nor is it always good and often it’s a mixture of both. Like every baby birthed in time, the Quill has grown up into an adult with its own personality and traits… so happy 20th birthday and may you last that many more opening doors for the writers, artist and photographers in the region of Southwest Missouri, a voice of the people.

“Change is difficult but often for the better”
By Latonia Bailey, Adviser to the Quill, 2005

Change is difficult, but often, after the change takes place, it’s plain to see that the change was for the better. As the Quill makes dramatic changes this year, hopefully it will be seen for the better.

What will be different? First, the Quill will only publish in the spring semester instead of both spring and fall. This should allow students more time to prepare entries. The next deadline will be Feb. 1, 2006.

Secondly, when the Quill does publish, it will only accept entries from high school and Crowder College students and community members. Instead, K-8 students are invited to participate in an on-site contest in the fall of each year. The contest will be a Fine Arts Festival, including contests in photography, art, poetry, fiction, and nonfiction as well as an opportunity to watch Crowder musical and theatrical performances.

These changes will accomplish several objectives for the K-8 students:

• encourage every participants’ efforts, whether or not they place, instead of only notifying winners
• award participants the same day as the contest, rather than three months after entering
• allow entries to be taken home that day, rather than four months after entering
• increase the opportunities for more students to win, rather than only four winners, for example, from within grades 3-6 of the poetry category.
• hopefully encourage participation by a wider array of schools because they’ll see more reward for their efforts.
  
  

There are also advantages for the older entrants in the magazine format changes:

• reduce the size of the magazine, which had become too big for its staples to hold it together
• return the magazine to the original intent when founded in 1980
• change the tone to an adult-level art and literary magazine
• encourage participation by a wider array of high schools as we will be expanding opportunities for high school students to be published
• facilitate the return of high school art by April 15, in time for spring art shows.

Please know that these changes were not made lightly but with careful consideration and with input from surveys, several meetings, conversations, and research of statistical entrant data. As always, our mission is to encourage and showcase the creative abilities of area authors and artists.

A Dream Captured

By Sandy Jordan, 2010

In the void of sleepless nights a thought, a dream came to visit

A man, who sought to capture it and bring it from the void into the light of reality, the tangible realm of day-to-day living

He brought the shapeless amoeba into a room and presented it to a small group of people who had no idea of what this captured dream

Should look like, it had no name, no identity, or set goals.

As sculptors they worked, forming it, giving it a face, a name, a reality.

Like an infant child the Quill was born,

On its birthday invitations went out, would anyone come?

Would anyone participate?

Were there seekers out there in the mist who wanted their voices heard?

Did dreamers have visions captured on canvas, paper or through a lens?

Would anyone dare bring their children to play, to take the chance of rejection? Would they bring them out to shine, standing on their merit?

So many came the magazine escaped the void called dreams becoming

A reality, a reality that has spurred hundreds on,

Drawn them out of the shadows, the land of hope, the land of might-be,

Giving them the sense of “yes” it was meant.

Generation to generation, parent to child, child to grandchild, blooming, Evolving, changing, growing, reaching beyond the primitive to the era

Of electronics and computers, always rising higher, greater and brighter, issue-to-issue, moment upon moment, crying out “there are no boundaries, nor places I am afraid to go, stop me if you can”

The voice of the artist, writer and dreamer a child of the computer, the manual and electronic type-writer, the vision of a 35 millimeter camera and the digital, the camera phone; splashes of paint, pen and ink and computer generated images born out of an artist finger tips.

Thirty years ago a dream was captured, a man gave it to the people and there is no going back, for the Quill is the artist voice, the bright star of hope.

It is the Yes in a world of No’s, the gift to generations to come.

The Pangs of Creation 

By Sandy Jordan,  Spring 2015

There is a special group of people in this world that seem to have a clearer vision, better hearing and a talent to transform a bedraggled brown leaf into something memorable. They see it as a child’s baseball glove abandoned in the dust of an attic. It may become a drawing, painting, poem or short story.

The image haunts the creator until its given life.

Emily Dickinson was a prolific writer. Her poetry is mandatory reading:

“The soul selects her own society, then shuts the door.” Those lines reflect exactly what this recluse did. She was so afraid of ridicule and rejection she never submitted a single poem in her lifetime. It was her family that submitted, walked the path to publication and secured her position in the annals of history.

The longest selling book, the most often read book and the first book ever published was the Bible. Then came Shakespeare, Dante’s Inferno, Pilgrim’s Progress, Dorian Gray and Gone With The Wind.

On the Antique Road Show people will bring in sketches, crude drawings, simple paintings and rough cartoon strips. These were obtained from artists giving away their work as payment, as gifts, for marginal profit and often donations to charity. Those works are now worth thousands because those artists never gave up.

It is a blessing to be born with this gift of creating. The rough sailor who wrote “Amazing Grace” would be astounded to know it’s the most popular hymn in the Christian and non-Christian world. Francis Scot Key wrote a poem on a scrap of paper during an emotional moment. “The Star Spangled Banner” became this nation’s national anthem. It is a living tribute to the creative work of one man who saw with clearer vision and responded with his heart.

No man or woman ever woke up one day and created a masterpiece. The pangs of creation must be gone through. Every line drawn draws one closer to greatness. Every crude painting is a step up to a masterpiece. Every misspelled word, misplaced comma and rejection is one page more into the acceptable realm of publishable work.

When Dan Richard, stood in front of a handful of students, he had a vision, a formless entity he wanted to bring to live. I gave it its name, The Crowder Quill. Another drew its logo

and after many long discussions, guidelines were drawn up and the most terrifying part began. Would anyone enter their work, submit it for judgmental, critical viewing without monetary reward?

Would people share their creations?

Recently I was sorting out the past issues of the Quill that I have.

It stared out so thin, simple with its logo on colored cardstock. It ranged in size, once being published in newspaper form. Rarely did a semester pass without an issue. When Mr. Richard

retired, others tried to keep it going. Finally, Latonia Bailey took it over and has taken it to the top, the best in the nation.

The pangs of its growth are recorded in past issues. The age of the contributors have fluctuated, so has the number of issues per year and the format. The man with his dream would have tears in his eyes if he could hold the modern child of his shapeless vision.

When the Neosho Post began publishing it marked a decline in the Quilt’s popularity. It was thought to drop it and save money. The people rallied, it survived and it is included in a time capsule buried by “The Post.” Ironically the original Post was sold after about one year of publication.

Nothing is easy. We work hard to create, to bring our thoughts to life. We face so much ridicule and rejection in the process. We can choose to be an Emily Dickinson and hide our talents away or be a Dan Richard and step out boldly to present our creations.

I have had everything from one to four manuscripts included in the majority of the Quills issues. All the members of my family have been published multiple times within its pages. My youngest worked on staff one semester. I don’t have copies of all the Quills but treasure those I have.

To look at the Quills and to see the evolution and growth is something hard to describe. Perhaps an image that moves me every spring is a good comparison. Starting in March the flowers come. Mute witnesses standing by foundations, steps and in clusters marking those places where homes stood. Here mothers carved out a life for her family from nothing but what her hands created. These flowers are her autograph.

Before the National Guard moved back to Crowder, you could gather arm loads of irises planted by the wives of soldiers seeking to make a home, if only briefly. Silent monuments to their loyalty and devotion.

We may not be the Russian immigrant who wrote ” How Great Thou Art.” We may be more like the unknown author of “The Love of God,” a person confined in an asylum writing their images on the wall. Yet, if we create, we leave our legacy. Someone, somewhere will see it and respond. When the time capsule is opened, those brave souls who contributed will have

their works read again.

Success is not always monetary. If you create, you share the gift given to you. You will share your unique view of the world.

You may have the talent to take you to great honors.

You will never know unless you try, and the Quill has been the first steps for many artists, sculptures and writers.

How many among our readers have contributed, known someone who has or been touched by something within its pages?

Create and share,

make someone stop and see

more than a crumpled brown leaf.

You have been given the talent, now use it.

The pangs of creation are often painful, but the reward is far greater than momentary discomfort. TS Elliot said, “This is how the world ends; not with a bang but a whimper.” Don’t let his words be about you, move forward and never look back unless it’s to enjoy your moments of success. 

The founding Quill staff included Cheryl Ball, Paul Bowman, Sally Greeding, Lee Ann Sontheimer, Wesley Watkins, James Paul (J.P.) Dickey, and Cassandra (Sandy) Jordan.

Sontheimer is a published author and member of a number of writers’ guilds. She has more than 30 full-length novels, a number of novellas, work in more than 24 anthologies, and many other publications, many of which are award winners. She writes a weekly column for The Neosho Daily News.

Dickey, employed at Crowder since 2000, currently serves as Director of Regional Centers and Dual Credit Institutional Monitor. He directed the theatre at Crowder from fall 2000 until spring 2013.

Jordan continues to be active with writing and contributing to the Quill. She is published as a winner in this edition of the Quill as well as nearly every publication in the Quill’s history; she has also served on staff multiple times through the years.

I Think I Can
By Sandy Jordan, 2020

A favorite children’s story is about a little train with a great big job. As he pulled his cars up the grade he puffed out; “I think I can, I think I can”

until the job was successfully done.

They built Camp Crowder on farm lands and orchids. It held German prisoners of war, it hosted the Pigeon Brigade, the first radar school, the band training school and the largest women’s brigade. It gave birth to Beetle Bailey and was the setting for Danny Thomas’s wedding for his show.

It made history but when it wasn’t needed anymore, it was parceled out. Everything from bedpans to buildings went out into the surrounding communities. I actually walked through the buildings and saw the tables of leftover stuff.

Soon there was mainly two brick officers quarters left.

A group of dreamers came together. Would it be possible to open a junior college for the local students? So many never got beyond high school due to family finances. “I think I can, I think I can.” They did, in the fall of 1964 the collage opened with 378 students, my sister among them. Crowder College now serves 5000 plus students. Its award-winning solar program is one of the best, now adding wind generators.

The college has become a part of the people, generations following the footsteps of their families through the years. The dream has grown, new buildings have been added and future ones planned. That little seed of a dream has grown into a beautiful reality.

“I think I can, I think I can.”

A little group of dreamers met. There was so little opportunity for writers and artist in this area. The dream of so many faced an Emily Dickinson reality. In her lifetime, nobody saw her beautiful poetry. She kept it safely under her bed.

So the teacher, Mr. Richards, gathered his class around him and outlined his plan. It seemed like an impossible dream. I named it, we plotted the thin, brown booklet and held our first awards ceremony. We could only hope that it would continue on, that it would prove successful and help launch a few careers, sow a few seeds of hope when authors and artist saw their work printed and shared with others.

Like the college, it has far exceeded those early hopes. It too has become a part of the community.

Generation following generation, after generation. It has grown, changed as light hitting crystal and reproducing itself in many facets. Rare was the semester without a Quill. It grew to include the community, and the community’s children, it became a one semester gem. It reached the point where the younger writers were excluded, for lack of space. The levels now starting with the local high school students. It has won awards and recognition.

“I think I can, I think I can.”

The writers and authors believe as they work toward their dreams. It’s not easy, rejection stings but few famous authors were successful the first time out, their careers were built on a teetering pile of rejections.

For those with the dream remember this. An editor is a human like you. Your rejection may depend on if he’s had his morning coffee, how many manuscripts he’s already read and his own personal likes and dislikes. Failure is not submitting. Do not let the world dictate how you feel about yourself. Bylines are great but not a mark of success.

I started writing word searches several years ago. My first was :”Egyptian Mummifier Pets.” I have lost track of the number of searches I have researched and Kappa has published. No byline but thousands have read. circled and perhaps learned from those list. I wrote a greeting card for Dayspring. It was a sympathy card for the military. How many have shared those words of comfort in their grief? A byline I have seen is on my Nazarene take home Sunday School paper the Standard.

Blow it off as a simple paper, but think how many Nazarene churches there are in how many counties, speaking how many different languages? My own rejection story? The Quill decided a short story did not fit its requirements. That short story won a prestigious award in a prestigious competition held by universities of the South. It was the biggest prize I had ever won.

The Quill is a beautiful, polished publication. It is hard to be accepted or win an award these days. But, it is as a mother standing in the shadows wearing tattered jeans, watching her beautifully gowned daughter walking down the runway with lights flashing as she flaunts her beauty.

That mother’s pride knows no bounds. Her scrapbook is full of memories, bulging at the seams. Let someone else shine, let the hard work and endless hours reflect how far she has come,

“I think I can, I think I can.”

“I did.”

Happy 40th birthday, Crowder Quill.

May you long endure, meeting and exceeding everyone’s hopes and expectations. 

I wrote a special piece for The Quill’s 40th birthday.

Jordan is a freelance writer and first poetry editor of the Quill.

Spring 2020

Past Traveling Trophy Winners

Fall 1993: Nixa High School

Spring 1994: McDonald County High School Fall 1994 to Spring 1998: St. Mary’s Catholic School in Pierce City

Fall 1998: Association of Christian Home School Federation

Spring 1999 to Spring 2005: St. Mary’s Catholic School in Pierce City

Fall 2005: St. Mary’s Catholic School in Pierce City

2006: Diamond High School 

2007: Neosho High School

2008: McDonald County High School 

2009: McDonald County High School 

2010: Diamond High School 

Quill Editors 

1980 – (S) Editor Not Designated

(F) Editor Not Designated

1981- (S) Jerry Straight

(F) Annelie Duncan

1982 – (S) Leslie Richard

(F) Tammy Gambie

1983 – (S) Donna Jackson

(F) Donna Jackson

1984- (S) Donna Jackson

(F) Joan Lamborn

1985 – (S) Lynetta Hoffman

(F) Marilyn Cole

1986 – (S) Heather Wimsett

(F) Heather Wimsett

1987 –  (S) Heather Wimsett

(F) Guy Stewart

1988- (S) Guy Stewart

(F) Penny Vanslyke

1989 – (S) Scott Isom

(F) Diana Flanary

1990 – (S) Lois Hirscher

(F) Lois Hirscher

1991 – (S) Sharon Oxford

(F) Cyndee Oxford

1992 – (S) Bryane Smith

(F) Bryane Friend

1993 – (S) Sheila Johnson

(F) Sheila Johnson

1994 – (S) Chris Slinkard

(F) Chris Slinkard

1995 – (S) Chris Slinkard

(F) Not Published

1996 – (S) Deborah Perry

(F) Marla Hinkle

1997 – (S) Angel Pate

(F) Amber Kalmbach

1998 – (S) Virginia Clark

(F) Jonathon Balfour

1999 – (S) Rosalee Ponce

(F) Not Published

2000 – (S) Micheal Raulston and Sally Kern

(F) Micheal Raulston

2001 – (S) Dustin Shipman

(F) Meilon Browning

2002 – (S) Editor Not Designated

(F) Not Published

2003 – (S) Editor Not Designated

(F) Kelly Davis

2004- (S) Kelly Davis

(F) Megan Clark

2005 – (S) Megan Clark