A short drive brings up long list of memories
Marianne Bianchi
Date Modified: 02/11/2010 8:00 AM
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Often it takes just a short drive to bring back a long list of memories.
So it was one Saturday evening when husband and I headed to Leavenworth, a waning community in rural America. Once a lively little village with a few businesses and home to the area's retired farmers, it now is comprised of a construction company, a community baseball field and a Catholic Church.
We were headed to the church. A family member was involved in the Saturday evening services, and the timing was just right for us to fulfill our Sunday-go-to-meeting obligation. Thus the decision was made.
Our destination wasn't a long drive from our home. But strangely, one we hadn't taken since I-don't-know when. The road took us through Sleepy Eye, my hometown. To those who have never heard of it, it is a very-much-alive small town, rich in German ancestory, but proud of the Native American name it bares.
Unfortunately, the people here also continue to fight for its survival, what wirth the now easy access to bigger and better places for shopping and entertainment. But to someone like myself, Sleepy Eye was our life growing up. Several clothing, hardware and grocery stores; implement dealers; good schools and churches called the town home.
"What more would anyone want,'' so thought my parents. A trip to a bigger town located 15 miles away was like shopping the Mall of America today!
In order to get to Leavenworth, we drove several miles south of Sleepy Eye and then turned a corner onto a road to the west. Now this wasn't just any corner. It was the "round barn'' corner. Today's generation probably doesn't have a clue where or what that means.
But again, to those like myself who grew up in a different era, it was always known by that name. Why? It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. There was indeed a round dairy barn on the farmsite located on that very corner. If anyone ever needed directions to my family's farmsite, it included "You turn east at the round barn!'' A lot simplier, I'd say, than today when directions would be to "turn at the corner of State Highway 14 and 255th Ave.'' It even had a little class.
On our way to Leavenworth, we passed another historical site in my life, or rather, in my Dad's, Quail Trap School was where he received any and all of his formal education. If anyone managed to get through the eighth grade in a farmschool such as this, and intended to be a farmer, further education was unheard of.
The stories he told about his days in school makes me thing there was a bit of the devil in youngsters back then, too. Some included tipping the buggies over, especially those driven by the girls, and heading home as fast as they could.
Or another, sneaking smokes in the ever-popular outhouses, His favorite, whiuch began with, "Just to tell you how dumb we all were, involved a student named Kimball who just couldn't seem to learn how to read.
The teacher would read a sentence, which was to then be repeated by the boy. This went on for awhile, with no noticeable progress. In exasperation, the teacher said, "Go home and study your lesson.'' Kimball stared at the page, started to point with his finger, and slowly read "Go home and study your lesson.''
Not to be forgotten in the country school were the dreaded woodsheds and visits to them. I have a feeling my father spent more than a few hours in it. Yet the kids of that generation never had to listen to stories of guns, knives or drugs being brought to school.
Our decision to go for a short drive was a good one. Not only was the church service enjoyable, but also the memory drive to the church.