Good Old Menomonie

Hi Family,
When I got back from Menomonie Friday evening, I wrote a short note to my siblings. Perhaps you'd like to read it, too, so here's my first contribution to the new FAMAIL BLOG

Happy Saturday afternoon, Janet, and Sylvia, and Chris,

Thursday and Friday the Menomonie High School class of 1945 held its 62nd reunion, and naturally I drove up. Good old friends are still there: Esther Jeatran, Joe Sperstad, John and Beth Yount. And there are many others who it's easy to talk with even though they weren't in my closest circle of friends. We all came alive to Menomonie when the town, the entire state of Wisconsin, and the country for that matter were still gripped by the Depression. We all remember our teachers with love, gratitude, respect; and we wonder it could be that such a dedicated group of teachers could be found in this tiny little town. They sure served us well: Laura Ingalls, Carie Schoebacher, Mr. Bungy, Miss Freedman, Casey McDonald, Hattie Bates, and back to Codington, Minnie Nesser and Mr. Benson and Mr. Mortimer.

We all remember the town as it was then: the train depot, North Menomonie, Menomonie Junction, the Knapp estate, the Wilson estate, the Upper Farmers store and the Lower. I drove past 1012 6th St and could still identify all of the rooms inside the windows. I drove up the drive to Riverview—looks like some remodeling is taking place—a big addition is being attached behind the house. Looks kind of funny. But our house is still there with all of its memories.

Then, of course, sentimental drives to the Dunn County Fairgrounds, Wakanda Park, Point Comfort, and the block where Codington used to stand—the building's gone and the lot now contains a park and a recreation center. Lake Menomen is as green with algae as it ever was by September—that hasn't changed a bit even though the new dam (now a good 25 years old) raised the lake level considerably and drowned out all the secret little bays and bayous leading up the Iron Bridge.

I was sad to see that the Episcopal church on the corner has a For-Sale sign attached. Farewell Fathers Pinkham and Coykendahl. But I was told at breakfast brunch Friday morning that actually the congregation is large and growing; the church has bought out another, larger structure and is going strong. Its oldest, most elderly member, they told me, is Johnny Russell.

Anyway, my beloved siblings, there she still is, the funny little town where we grew up.

Love you, John

To which, Sylvia responsed:

Hi John, with whom can I share these old memories if
not with you? In Coddington, my first grade teacher
was Miss Kebasta. She used too much rouge and had
bright red cheeks. One day she announced that each
one of us children would stand up and sing his or her
favorite song, solo, to the whole class. One by one
the children did it, but when she came to me, I stood,
gravely said "I have no favorite song" and sat down.
She just nodded and went on to the next. I didn't
know the superintendent was in the room but he went to
Mommy and Daddy and told them about it, which is how
it became a story and why I remember it. I remember
how cold it was that first winter in Menomonie, and
how I had to learn to put on long cotton stockings
fastened with a garter belt. I remember walking to
Coddington with my lower jaw stuck out so people would
think I was tough and not mess with me. We put on a
patriotic pageant for which Mommy had to sew me a red,
white, and blue costume, and I learned all the words
to God Bless America. Later, at Central, I remember
the recesses when alice and I would stand at the
fence, look across the valley, and see Riverview. I
wanted Mommy to wave a sheet out the window of Daddy's
study so I could see her, but she never did.

I think I remember Mr. Bungy. He was the principal
at Central.

Love, Sylvia