Can Never Go Home Again

September 25, 2019

A lot of this is going to be reflective and sentimental.  These are the events from over the past couple of weeks.  After just about 70 years living in the same town my mom retired and moved away.  This is a really great thing and a milestone in her life.  I was lucky enough to go back and help her move her stuff, sell some of her stuff and, eventually, be there with her on the last official night in the house she'd called home for the past 46 or so years.

Front view of the house I grew up in

It's funny, you know, how everything seems when you're a kid growing up.  As an adult going back to the small town I grew up in I get a parallel view of everything.  I see a lot of it for what it is; a town that doesn't have any industry or major source of employment.  A place in Northern Wisconsin that can't even lay claim to any tourist attractions that's slowly becoming a place people don't really want to live but end up in anyway.  I guess it might be a little more harsh than I need to be, but the town has definitely turned into a shell of what I remember it being.

Then again, when I drive down Main Street where I grew up, memories of walking along the sidewalk alone or with friends flood into my mind.  Riding my first bike, cruising through town for what seemed like forever with a packed lunch on the handlebars for an adventure to the wayside outside town for a summer lunch.  Maybe a 20 minute ride that seemed to take hours.  A different time, though, because now I'm not sure parents could get away with that much unsupervised time for children.

So anyway, this is the house I grew up in.  It looks just about identical in shape (different color) than almost every other house on the block.  As a matter of fact, just about every other house in the downtown area.  What isn't shown in the picture is a view south.  Down the road about a block away is what used to be the paper mill.  This was the life's blood of the town for a hundred years.  All of the houses along my street were put up by the mill to house its employees.  It's an interesting think when you go back and look at what that meant.  There was a time when employees were paid and then only had one choice: buy groceries at the store that the mill owned.  Pay rent in a house that the mill owned.  Live in a town that the mill owned.  I'm guessing this was a common theme in a lot of mill towns not only in Wisconsin but everywhere.

Times change and so does the industry.  The mill was bought out and torn down to prevent competition.  The good jobs associated with it disappeared as well.  More and more people relocated and the value of just about everything plummeted.  Anyway, here are some more sentimental images:

This was my bedroom. 

The house was more of a story and a half or three-quarters.  The ceiling was sloped to follow the roofline.  Not a really big room but enough for two boys to share for most of our time growing up.  This used to be one big room but was split in half so my younger brother would have his own room.  Three boys in basically one room.

The house was more of a story and a half or maybe three-quarters.  The ceiling was sloped to follow the roofline.  Not really a big room but enough for two boys to share for most of our time growing up.  This used to be one big room but was split in half so my younger brother would have his own room.  Three boys in basically one room.  The window served as a portal for us.

Back of the house.  Kitchen was added on making the house a little bigger than some of the others on the block.  Maybe it was a package you could order from the mill when they were first created.

The window on the left on the second floor was my room.  Actually it was for my older brother and I (he just turned 47).  Many of our nefarious activities started with popping out the window and screen and then climbing out onto the flat roof of the kitchen.  In our minds we were sneaky but I'm sure the thunk-thunk of feet on the ceiling brought more than frustrated yells; I'm sure there were a few resigned smiles as well.  A lot happens when you're young without the Internet, phones or video games.  This roof was a launching point for plenty of experiments, including umbrella tests for slowed descent, fireworks and stargazing.

Entrance to the "Hill"

The house was right in the middle of town.  If I ever write an autobiography, the hill is going to play an important role in my childhood.  The house was right smack in the middle of the downtown area.  The road in front is a US highway and we fell asleep to the sounds of tractor trailers downshifting just in front of the house to slow themselves before the hairpin corner by the mill and the school just a block away.  Behind the house was the hill.  Since we were at the bottom of the valley that wove through town we had majestic rock bluffs across the road past the railroad tracks and a large, undeveloped hill behind all the houses.  Above the hill was another street and similar houses (actually the middle of the hill because it kept going) but there was this oasis in the middle stretching behind all the houses that was the playground for the dozen or so kids that lived nearby.  When people ask how I spent my summers it was on the hill.  We'd scurry out at 7 in the morning and return at dark.  It was within earshot of the house but we were a thousand miles away from everyone.

The living room where we had every Christmas, every sleepover, more than enough TV and movies and a thousand memories.  When I grew up the carpet was green and felt like it was the original.  On the other side of the spindles used to be the front porch.

Like many houses, a narrow, steep staircase led to the upstairs and the bedrooms.

Moving on and moving out was something I encountered more than twenty years ago when college and marriage pushed me along.  I can't go back any more since the house has been sold but, even though it was a modest life, it was one I look back on with fond memories.  You can't go back in time and change anything but the events make you who you are today.  I turned out OK.

Evelyn and Waverly

Skipping ahead a few decades and Evelyn gets to sit with Waverly (grand-niece) on the deck at my Mom's new house.  A new chapter (no pun) for her and a bright future for both cousins enjoying some time together making memories.

Last week we went on an Expedition to the chain of lakes.  Without cramming a bunch of pictures into this post, I'll share my part in the whole deal"

Captain of the SS Trackside

Our Expedition out to the Eagle River Chain was a great Opportunity for some hands-on lake ecology study and gathering some needed data, but for me it was a study in the properties of waves and buoyancy.  With 15 mph winds the pontoon boat was tossed around and launching and landing it were a good test for me.  Not sure how well I would have floated with the three-sizes-too-small life jacket.  Would have been a good chance for a "fat man in a little lifejacket" song.  It was a great time to be out on the lake and a wonderful alternative way to learn.

Ruffed grouse from the opener in Michigan.  Taken at camp.

 Opportunity comes at all times of the day with tons of different activities.  Just looking at the grouse we shot on Saturday morning ties into the adaptations nature makes for camouflage.  Fall is a great time to be out in the woods walking around reflecting on different things you can find.  Pics and thoughts together with directed instruction can go a long way for understanding your standards.

Really getting to like this view.

At the end of the last couple of weeks I've traveled back home, spent time with family, worked in a job I love in a way I love and had many opportunities to learn.  I hope everyone who takes the time to sit down and read this takes Opportunity in their own lives to look around, talk to others and relax by the campfire.

. . . I can't help but point out the solar panels in the background.  Anyone for alternative energy discussions?