HARLESTON — cue the "mission: impossible" theme and cut into a field of Central Illinois strongly wooded, trace with ticks blood suckers and rumors of poisonous snakes.
"Good morning, Mr. Phelps. … your mission, should you decide to accept it. .. "
Jim Phelps always accepted the mission, like his fictional namesake in the iconic television series. Unfortunately, not destructing written instructions back in the day when the real Jim Phelps, now, a manufacturer of map based in Charleston, used to work for the State of Illinois and was sent to the wilds to help search a path for a section of the next Interstate 57.
He has never been bitten by snakes, but provided haute cuisine dinner for a population of scale grateful, that never needed a map to find it. "Every day after work, which would make us tick," recalls the Phelps, 62. "Often have ticks all about us".
Then there was the native fauna human face. "We had a farmer out once with a shotgun," he said. "He told us:" you get out of here before I shoot you. " He was in his 80s and understand how the old fella felt: he didn't want to give up their land and the interstate was cutting his farm in half. "
Such is the furrow plowed by progress and dumps Phelps ancestors were always out on the cutting edge, the form of graphs. In recent years, he has traced their family tree 1705 and found that his grandfather, great-great-great-great, Peter Renfrow, SR., was a surveyor, with strong evidence to suggest Renfrow's son, Peter Renfrow Jr., taught a young George Washington art of Surveying.
Phelps explains that inspectors were in hot demand when America was young and wanted the power to map and measure what they had so that they could begin to sell it. But these catalogers of new frontier had given much more opponents to deal with ticks starved and fed farmers loading rifles. "Mr. Peter Renfrow was killed and escalpelaram Indians in Tennessee, in 1781, Phelps said, pointing to an entry in red in a document of family genealogy.
More excavation and analysis of ancestor found other map makers and inspectors of topography of their lineage that apparently came to more peaceful purposes, which generates a certain feeling of comfort. Phelps said also map the lives of those who contributed for their DNA helps explain why he likes to make maps to life. "Now I realize the topography and maps is a big part of my genetic makeup," she adds.
He founded Phelps map service in 1973 and executes it with his wife, Marjorie. They produce maps of the city, small town to locations throughout the Central Illinois, working for clients ranging from travel agencies to Chambers of Commerce. Is a complete package deal with Phelpses do it all, even sell advertising they paid for their work and underwrites the cost of doing the map.
In the old days, the construction of the real map, working from Illinois Department of Transportation and the U.S. Geological Survey, was made with pen and ink. Now, much of the work is done through the computer, but it's still a intense labor of love and nightmare of a reviewer: "Oh boy, a map of the city can take 60 to 90 days to make, working every day, sometimes for ten or twelve hours a day," Phelps said.
"Like I said, I like it, but I know I need a break when you don't find interesting anymore," he adds.
When this happens, it exits to a walk work in old Oak and hickory Woods scenic surrounding their rural home or, for more profound boredom induced map, he assaults a few rental properties that he owns while armed with a sudden passion for maintenance. "Repair and building my stress, relieves the job," he explains. "Sometimes, it can take two or three days to recover and sometimes can be two or three weeks.
Then it returns updated and geographically centered, ready to assume the profession that has charted the course your family through the ages. Unfortunately, it may be the end of the outline as ' Phelpses grown daughters, Amy and Alison, don't show any topographic trend to follow in his father's footsteps.
Amy Phelps, who teaches third grade in Tennessee, fateful State where your ancestor died by surveying its vocation, it seems to have taken up a long way from the end cartographic family gene pool. "We gave our daughter a GPS unit for your birthday," said his mother, with a smile embarrassed. "Kind of hated having to give him that, but well ... … She has difficulty finding things. "
421-7977 treid@Herald-Review.com |
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