At fifty-eight years of age I have a warehouse of memories. Such as..Standing on the back of a work truck,wearing only a towel, and watching a huge tornado sling railroad cars like they were nothing. Or waking up in the cockpit of a 24 foot sailboat, miles off shore, totally surrounded by ocean, with a gigantic bloodred sun rising out of it. Looking over my shoulder, and seeing all of Manhatten (including the towers) ablaze with thousands of lighted windows, from The George Washington Bridge. And on his 89 tour, watching Paul McCartney sing "Hey Jude" live, through stinging tear filled eyes. But the memories that seem to bring me the most joy are the ones that took place in Prairie du Chien Wisconsin, when I was a small boy, and the center of the universe was Blackhawk Avenue, between Marquette Road, and north Main Street.
I remembersneaking in, and playing spaceships in the cabin cruisers in Starks boats next door to Pete's. I remember weekend afternoons at the Metro Theatre, between Panka's Shoes, and Jims bar. Ferrels Walgreens had the very first rotating time n temerature signIever saw , and People's State Bank across the street. Wauketas, Hamanns , and The Lion's Club.. THE Crazy days sale with all the stores merchandise out on the street. There was Frank's Rexall Drugs, The Prairie Spy, and The Courier Press. There was The Leigon club, The Fort Crawford Hotel, Kreagans, The White Front, and The Prairie Schooner. I remember the old woolen mill on Main Street across from my buddy Rickey Seeley lived . The IGA on Beaumont Road, and The Piggley Wiggley. out by the hills on Blackhawk.
I remember sailing my Texaco Tanker on the pond at The Villa Louise, under the weeping willows. summer Nights when my gramma, and I would walk over to the A&W Rootbeer stand down by the slough bridge. We sometimes would end up at my Aunt Alices in the forth ward. Sitting on her front porch watching the car lights crossing the old bridge. I remember The noon whistle, and The white church on Wisconsin Street that played music every weekday at five pm. There were three passenger trains a day that stopped there then. The orange Empire Builder, the green Northern Pacific, and the silver Burlington Route Zepher.
I have very fond memories of some of the citizens of that time too. Like BillI of Bill's Texaco who let this little kid hang out at his station, and gave me my Texaco tanker. Frank of Frank's Rexall, who found me wandering crying outside his store wasp stung, he treated my stings..no charge.., and called my gramma. The bartender who vaulted the bar, and rushed to my gramma,s aid when I ran in to Kreagens sobbing hysterically one night that she fell down up the street, and wouldn't talk to me. Wonderfull people. A wonderfull time, and place My Mayberry. I will return someday. Stroll Blackhawk Avenue, and smell Pete's hamburgers on a warm summer night.
JERRY KOLBE
