Louise (Emenheiser) Bower: Interesting Article in AARP Magazine on growing up in a small town like Sycamore.

Just today I've been reading an article in the AARP Magazine (Face it, folks! We all get it - and have for some time.!) The article by David Halberstam, historian and journalist of much fame, is called "How We all Turned Out" and tells of his one recent attempt to go back to a school reunion in a small town in Connecticut where he spent some of his pre-WWII school years. (After the war, his dad - by then a decorated war veteran - tried to set up medical practice as a surgeon there. But, as a Jew, could not get surgical privileges at the local hospital, so the family relocated to New York.)

Apparently, his little home town as he describes it sounds a lot like the Sycamore Gene described in his essay - a safe, quiet place where kids could play together all summer long with few cares, though their parents were just half a generation away from the Depression and fighting hard to give their children a better start than they had.

Just thought I'd mention this, as I'm sure most of you would enjoy reading what Halbersham has to say about his school/community experience. It's in the September/October issue.

Also Louise's refections on Life and Death.

This seems to be a summer when, as it comes to an end, I am feeling as if I've done little but go to funerals and write sympathy notes. (Of course, I've also had a successful recovery from the only major surgery I've ever had, and - once recovered - helped clear, paint, and reorganize our garage with a whole new storage system.) But, the dominant sense every since mid-May here has been the loss of friends and colleagues: several colleagues from around our local church area, an old college friend, the guy who was Best Man at our wedding, and - just today - received word of the death in June of John Weaver who was the Band Director when a lot of you were in junior high, I'll bet. He was my father's organist at St. Peter's Church for over 50 years. So, that's the local connection for those of us who grew up or spent part of our growing up years in Sycamore. I'm trying to become reconciled to the fact that we, at nearly 70 are at "that age" when we will be going to more and more funerals, until it's our turn.

I'm starting to think about things I'd like to be sure are completed before it's my turn: family photos, mending an antique quilt so I can pass it on, organizing some things no one else would know about. But, how do we prepare for our own death? Is that too gloomy a thought for a summer's evening? We'll either be "ready" or we won't give it a thought and the time will come anyway. Surely it would not be out of order to spend a few minutes now and then looking back and asking ourselves what difference it has made that we were here, what memories our families will have of us, and what we'd like to be remembered for.

Reading the biographical material all of us sent in before the reunion last year was a wonderful way to catch up on the 50 years since we last walked out the door of Sycamore High. Most of us seemed to be saying that we had had good lives, filled with friends and family, love and laughter, tears and loss, changes (always that!), yet satisfaction with lives well lived within whatever limits life had imposed.

My best prayer is that we all may rejoice in the lives we've had, forgiving ourselves and others for past hurts, enjoying every day we are given, and preparing to face whatever the rest of our lives holds with confidence and peace. 

Pat (Cretsinger) Nelson: Whose telephone number was Hudson three-two-seven hundred, skate keys, and kick the can.

My Dad was transferred to the Anaconda factory in Sycamore from Marion, Ind. in 1942.  Our house was one of the “war houses” on West Street.  I think these houses were actually built for the returning servicemen, or maybe they were called that because they were built during the war.  Dorothy Becker, Jack Daniels, Marilyn Plucinski, June Balsis, and Arlene Jackson all lived in this west end of town.  We had a lot of fun playing baseball in the vacant lot by Arlene’s house, and at night we would gather to play kick-the-can until one of our mothers would yell for us to come in.  I remember Dave Drenckpohl and Joe Peplow would sometimes wind up with us too.  Since this was a new edition in town the sidewalks were all straight and even and we’d roller skate lots of mornings.  Remember those old skates with keys?  I actually found a skate key at an antique store – now that was a bummer!   I wish I could remember all of the jump rope verses we use to sing – and then there was hopscotch, red light and even “Truth or Consequences” or some such I-dare-you game.   Life was good for us kids back then!

Not every thing was roses and sunshine though because in the course of our growing up, Dorothy had polio, Jack got whopping-cough and I had scarlet fever.  I guess you could say these diseases are antiques now.  Of course with each of these diseases we got a “quarantine” sign posted on our front door.

Remember the outdoor swings and gym ladder at West School?  I remember once swinging and teetering on the ladder and whoever was on the other end let go and I went to the ground under the ladder and got the wind knocked out of me.  And then I remember, I think it was Nancy Reh, swinging (a swing that actually had a wood seat!!!) and pumping hard, trying to go over the top bar.  I don’t remember if she made it or not.   Boy that wouldn’t happen today.

Television was new in the 40’s and 50’s.  The one advertisement that I still remember is:  Hudson three two seven hundred.  Do you remember what you could buy if you called this number? 

I think we all have lots of memories to share – this was just a small portion of what I remember.   It seems sad that things change, but I guess that’s called progress.

Alta (Kuntz) Hough: Remembers the time before indoor plumbing and refrigerators.

I, of course, was born at home; like many of us were I am sure. It was on Townsend Street in Sycamore at my grandmother’s house. My folks lived in a little house behind her house until my dad built a house out of cement block on Wild St.. It had one bedroom that my mom, dad, sister and I all slept in. It had a living room, dinning room, kitchen and a bath that we had to carry water to from the pump in the kitchen. It also had a back porch. We had an outside toilet until my dad got a septic put in outside and running water in the house, then we had inside plumbing. I’m sure you can all relate to that.

I don’t remember what year, I think in the late 40’s, my dad added to the house and put in a grocery store, and when they closed the store that room became my sisters and my bedroom. The store was called Kuntz’s Grocery. We had a lot of neighborhood people for customers. I thought the store was great because I could get free ice cream and candy. I guess we didn’t have a lot of money, but neither did anyone else.

The ice truck would deliver ice to people with iceboxes and we would run after the ice truck and he would chip off ice for us to suck on. Nancy Hardesty lived across the street so I used to play with her a lot.

My dad worked at Anaconda Wire and Cable. He worked at what they called they south plant during the war and had to wear a uniform and carry a gun.

I remember going to south school, which was across the street from where Jack Lindstrom and Tootie Edwards lived. I also remember going to the Fargo Theater with my mom and sister for the cowboy movies. I think they were on Friday night. Don’t forget the drive-in theater on Sycamore Road. We would go to Lothson’s Carry-Out  and get chicken dinners for my mom, grandma, my sister Jane and myself and take them to the drive-in theater and eat them while we watched the movie.

Some things were good about the good old days and some things are better now.

Jack Lindstrom: Memories of Lake Delavan also know as the place where there wasn't  any drinking before noon (most of the time).

I happened to turn to the western movie channel on the TV the other day and there was a old Lash LaRue movie on. I don’t know if you remember Lash LaRue or not. He was a cowboy who dressed in black, rode a black horse and carried a whip. I watched part of the movie and couldn’t believe how bad the acting was. Had to be at least a ”B” movie; maybe even a “D or E” if there is such a thing, but I really liked Lash LaRue when I was a kid. It made me think of the Saturday Matinee’s I used to go to at the Fargo Theater when I was in seventh or eighth grade. Does anyone else remember going?  I don’t recall how much it cost  to get in but I know it wasn’t much. I do remember Roberta Anderson used to go once in a while. Don’t ask me why I remember Roberta being there unless it was because I thought she was pretty special at that time.

As Gene mentioned in his "Great Adventure" article we spent many weekends at my aunt and uncle's cottage at Lake Delevan. There would usually be a group of us, John Dunmore, Mungie Carlson, John Florent, Dave Drenckpohl, Joe Peplow, Gene and myself. At times we even took our girlfriends up for the day. Someone usually had a boat or at times we even had two boats. We would water ski or take a boat ride over to Flemming's for the greatest hamburger in the world. I also remember my aunt had a house rule of no drinking before noon. At that time it was legal to drink in WI when you were 18, so we used to play alot of cards in the mornings to pass the time. Those were good times. I'll bet Jackie Behler remembers getting dragged through a gravel pile by a boxer we were taking care of. All Jackie had on at the time was her two piece swimming suit. Later I tried to drown the dog. Not on purpose though. We went down to the lake and I threw the dog off of the pier into the lake. It seemed like forever and he never came to the surface so I jumped into save him. He came up then, as he clawed his way up my body. Jackie and I both had scratches all over our bodies.