When I heard that Jackman Stroud Vodrey had completed his seasonal migration from the balmy environs of sand, chiggers and palmettos, that is to say, Florida, and that he has returned to East Liverpool, Ohio, his natal land, and that as of last Friday his family would be celebrating a significant birthday anniversary, my first thought was that I should write a column honoring this venerable citizen, this patriarch of a proud and beneficent clan, a man I am pleased to call my friend.

My second thought was that it would be a great opportunity to make fun of him.

My third thought was that although everyone makes fun of lawyers in general with impunity, few are balmy enough to poke a specific, identifiable lawyer with a sharp stick, and certainly not do it in print.

Casting caution aside, in the spirit of David Letterman, here are my “Top 10 Reasons that Jackman Vodrey is So Old.”

Number 10: Jackman is so old that when he was christened in The Tubs, they were called The Thimbles.

Number 9: that he had a dire wolf puppy for a childhood pet.

Number 8: that Indians traveling the Tuscarawas Trail asked him for directions.

Number 7: That he dug up and ate the barrel of biscuit that George Washington buried on Babb’s Island

Number 6: that he tried to date Jenny Eckert when she was 9.

Number 5: that when Jackman volunteered for the Rough Riders, Teddy Roosevelt said, “Sorry, Old-Timer.”

Number 4: that an angry client attempting to shoot Jackman missed and inadvertently assassinated President McKinley.

Number 3: that his writ of habeas corpus, filed on behalf of the Floyd family and belatedly served, was misinterpreted literally, causing the Sturgis Funeral Home to produce the corpse of Charles “Pretty Boy” Floyd for public display.

Number 2: that his cease and desist petition stopped the Wisconsin glacier just short of Fredericktown, ending the last great ice age.

And the Number One Reason that Jackman Vodrey is So Old: that he advised Will L. Thompson, author of “Softly and Tenderly,” to become a composer of sacred hymns “because church ladies will think you’re hot.”

I have long been acquainted with Jackman Vodrey. He affectionately calls me Mook and I dubbed him the Xerox King because he never met a piece of paper he didn’t want to copy.

For readers who are not steeped in East Liverpool area history, a few notes can help explain the jokes.

The Tubs is a water-carved formation in bedrock of the North Fork of Little Beaver Creek at Fredericktown, part of the umpteen-acre watershed that has been protected as a wild and scenic river thanks to the Vodrey forebears and family trust.

The Tuscarawas Trail, also known as The Great Trail, passes just north of Fredericktown. Gary Winterburn’s book about it is a rare and treasured classic.

Jenny Eckert operated a notorious tavern astraddle the Pa.-Ohio state line, a location dubbed Hell’s Half-Acre in the Roaring ’20s. She later became a spiritualist, minister and something of a community pillar.

“Pretty Boy” Floyd was shot and killed at nearby Sprucevale and laid out at the Sturgis Funeral Home. Death masks exist. Some years ago a local woman befriended Floyd’s lingering spirit and brought him home with her, according to her book.

President McKinley had ties to East Liverpool and used tariffs to protect its potteries. Local businessman and music composer Will L. Thompson made his fortune selling pianos, and endowed a park to the city. We should not speculate on what could have happened when he delivered musical instruments to lonely widows.

Vodrey involvement has long been suspected in the halting of the Wisconsin glacier just north of Fredericktown, although that darned global warming 12,000 years ago may have contributed. No one has claimed to find dire wolf bones in Fredericktown, but if they were extant locally and a puppy had been available when Jackman was a boy, he doubtless would have had one. A vicious canine that nipped at the heels of woolly mammoths would be just the thing for a future lawyer.

Happy 90th birthday, Xerox King!