Monday, April 20, 2026

Notes from my Knapsack 4-30-2026

Notes from my Knapsack 4-30-2026
Jeff Gill

Revolutionary figures, pioneering personalities
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For all sorts of reasons, the nationwide America 250 observance is focused on Revolutionary War history. 250 years ago was 1776, and it’s our nation’s formal “birthday” of July 4 of that year which gives us the cause for celebration; that leads us pretty directly into the conflict with Great Britain, which started with shots fired on Concord Bridge in April of 1775 and did not end until the Surrender at Yorktown on Oct. 19, 1781.

Ohio has some investment in the Revolutionary War, if much less than the original Thirteen Colonies. Towards the end of the hostilities in 1780, George Rogers Clark fought the Battle of Piqua against Black Hoof and a contingent of Shawnee and other Native American tribal warriors, just west of Springfield.

Not long before, between 1778 and 1779 Fort Laurens was built and then abandoned, northeast of us towards Canton; the losses there are still marked by a "Tomb of the Unknown Patriot of the American Revolution.” Non-combatant Native Americans died in even larger numbers by the Gnadenhutten massacre of 1782, around a hundred women and children and old men buried in a mound still memorialized in that village today.

But Licking County between 1775 and 1783, when the official peace was signed in Paris, has little or no recorded history. What we have are dozens of Revolutionary War veterans who brought history with them after 1799, as they came and settled this formerly Shawnee and Wyandot and Delaware land.

Of the some 7,000 Revolutionary War veterans buried in Ohio, over 140 have been tracked and recorded here in Licking County. Doug Stout with the Licking County Library has been diligent in this work for many years, and the Sons of the American Revolution along with the Daughters of the American Revolution have been hard at work in recent times to ensure good, readable memorials at or near our veterans’ last resting places. Some are in outlying and less well tended cemeteries, and no small number are in well known burying grounds, like the Old Colony in Granville, with a new monument just erected to list them all, or in Newark’s Veterans Park on Sixth Street.

The three Revolutionary War narratives I associate most with Granville are Patrick Cunningham, Jonathan Benjamin, and William Gavit. They arrived here in roughly that order, Cunningham and Benjamin before the 1805 settlement of the village, and Gavit with those first Granville Land Company pioneers.

I’ve written previously about all three, and there’s a book in each of them. Cunningham, born in Ireland in 1750, served with Pennsylvania troops and by 1800 had outlived two wives, raised children to adulthood, and was an unusual solo pioneer. Cunningham would soon move to fast growing Newark, married again, finally dying and buried outside of Hebron in 1832.

Benjamin would live to 1841, just six weeks shy of his 103rd birthday, outliving almost his entire family and laid to rest in the Old Colony Burying Ground by his grandchildren. A young soldier in the French and Indian War, losing close family in the ongoing battles on the Pennsylvania frontier with British allied Native American raiding parties, he went on to serve as a sergeant in the Pennsylvania troops during the Revolution. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, both Cunningham and Benjamin are likely to have encountered Rev. David Jones during the war at Valley Forge, who directed many after the conflict ended to the valleys around the Licking River.

William Gavit was a young sailor engaged in naval action against the British during the latter years of the Revolution, and so was one of the last living veterans of the Revolution in our area, dying in 1854 at the age of 87. He was captured twice by the Royal Navy, and escaped twice from the infamous prison ship “Jersey,” where thousands died in captivity.

That may have something to do with why this seafaring youth from Rhode Island moves inland after war’s end, comes twenty years later to Ohio, and never seems to miss the sea.


Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he likes to wander cemeteries for education and enjoyment. Tell him where you get your history at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on X.

Faith Works 4-24-2026

Faith Works 4-24-2026
Jeff Gill

If you’re reading this, you may be too close
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There’s a bumper sticker out there saying “If you can read this, you’re too close!”

That has to do with typeface size and traffic speed, but you get the point. If you’re close enough to make out the words, you probably should slow down, unless you’re standing right behind the vehicle in a parking lot.

If you are reading this column, whether on a screen or phone online, let alone in print, you may be “too close” to the question of literacy and religion. Preachers talk about Biblical literacy all the time, as do many church leaders, lay or ministerial, but the reality is our relationship to reading is different than that of most of our congregation, let alone to the wider culture.

Some of us, a fair number of people even in 2026 Ohio, like to read. We do it for fun; a healthy audience turned out this week in Newark to hear an author speak about books, and the process of writing.

And I know as a pastor there are people who read their Bibles regularly, faithfully, diligently.

I also know there are many who wrestle with the topic, and find it hard to maintain a regular, consistent pattern of devotional reading, over time or just day to day.

What I hear much less directly about, but am painfully aware of, is how many people do not read. I’m not talking about literacy per se, and I’m not even sure calling it functional illiteracy is fair, but the practice of reading as measured by a number of metrics is on the decline.

Reading for pleasure by adults has been widely reported to have dropped by half in my adult lifetime. That sounds terrible, and I won’t say it isn’t, but that’s actually a decline from around 30% to 15%. If you think about it, that means even in the halcyon days of the 1970s, 70% of adults did not read for pleasure. That’s what’s generally referred to as a majority.

A few years back, it was widely trumpeted in book circles that the number of adults who had read a book, one book, at least a single volume, in the previous year had dropped below half. This isn’t even asking if you enjoyed it, just “have you read a book this year?” Over half now say “nope.”

As a born and raised American Protestant, I’m used to a mindset in my faith community of thinking that Bible reading is well-nigh equal to belief in general. If you don’t read your Bible, your faith is heading for the rocks. Not reading the Bible is dangerously close to not believing in God. Directly and indirectly, that’s what I internalized. But the unfair part here is two-fold: one, I enjoy reading, and read fast, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m more religious or a better person, I just read more. Trust me, I know that’s true.

The other thing that seems off here: up until good old Johannes Gutenberg and circa 1450, reading in your own copy of the Holy Scriptures was simply not possible. Monks and priests had handwritten, illuminated copies of the Bible, and the wealthy had beautiful psalters and breviaries or a “Book of Hours” for their prayers, illustrated and artistically written out, but Jane and Joe Average had their ears. They heard the Bible read in worship, through the year in the lectionary, echoed in bells ringing to let farmers know in their fields what was being sung and said in the parish church, but their Bible was largely auditory. If you missed church, you didn’t hear or receive your Bible text for the week.

Now, we can skip public worship, and read in our paperback “The Way” or on our Bible app across phone screens to get divine content that way… or do we? How should we think about Bible reading, and relating it to worship, today?


Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he likes all manner of translations, which is a column all its own. Tell him how you read scripture at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on X.