Sparta, Wisconsin
Thursday/Friday, July 12, 22
On Thursday I returned to the Register of Deeds and organized my copies of deeds and land plats, coordinating them with present day maps. This was to enable me to see if the house featured in a wonderful old picture of the Breton house in Sparta still existed. I had been fortunate in Huron, but was matching old and new twice too much to ask?
The library was a return visit too. It’s one of 62 libraries in Wisconsin that was begun with a $10,000 donation by Andrew Carnegie. The plaque outside notes that there were 1,669 others that he funded. When you think of what libraries do, that is some amazing philanthropy. Did you know that Jack London was a big time patron of the Oakland Library when he was a young oyster pirate? I believe he even dedicated a book or two to the library lady who steered him to some inspirational readings.
This old stone library is only a block from the main street so I spent a bit of time casing the town from foot level. I picked out my spot for a special meal before I left. Ginny’s Cupboard features an old soda fountain and eight melted-ice pattern Formica tables and chairs for customers. It also has a deck overlooking a creek. It would be a wonderful place to wind down.
On the town tour of homes I had two addresses for Ward homes and one address for the Breton home. At the two Ward locations I found and photographed old homes, but since I didn’t have 19th century photos I can’t say if they are the same homes. The Breton address was on the corner of what is now a busy intersection and is no longer there. On the site now is an antique and gun store. Disappointing, but it makes me value the old and new photos of the Huron house even more.
I returned to the History Center and while looking at some old Methodist records found a wonderful story about some Methodist ladies who may or may not have taken a flight with Charles Lindbergh to Caracas, Venezuela. I copied it all and will investigate it later when I have more time.
Shery Hickle from Huron sent me an email in which she said that she enjoyed J.W. Breton’s “Memoirs” which I had shared with her. She even posted a kind of humorous episode she calls “Wild, Wild, Huron 1881” in her history/genealogical blog at beadlecountysd.blogspot.com.
Saturday 7-23-11
Like the other days at the campground I awoke to the cooing sound of several Mourning Doves who I suggest might more appropriately be called Morning Doves. Despite the misnomer, it was a very pleasant way to wake up. On the other hand, as I peered out the bedroom window of the trailer I felt like Captain Ahab with a whale-sized white RV parked right next to me. I guess I was really sleeping well the night before, but at least they were quiet with their thirty-two foot motor home. It was huge next to my little sixteen footer. I left early to check in at the Ford dealer since the CD player now gives me the CD ERROR message and won’t play. They looked at it and said they’d have to remove it and send it somewhere so I said “thanks.” In a test of my flexibility, this will introduce me to the “flavors” of local radio as I travel. Luckily I’d already finished a mystery novel before I got to Sparta. Just as long as the air-conditioning doesn’t falter!
While ensconced in the library writing up the earlier reports I heard the rumble of thunder. When I wrapped up my work and went outside the sky was very dark and ominous with lightening flashes frequent. I got in the truck and attempted to hurry out to camp where I’d left the widows open to cool the trailer. It was a real thunderstorm with several inches of rain deposited in an hour’s time. Although I wanted to hurry out to the trailer I had to go slowly due to the heavy rain. The truck was slow, but the wipers were going at full speed to keep up with the deluge. When I arrived at the campsite the awning was half down due to two of the pegs pulling out of the soggy ground. I was prepared however, and donned a raincoat in the truck, leaping into action. First I closed the windows and roof vent, then hammered in the stakes, then wiped up the interior of the trailer and watched the rain pour off the awning. I had planned to go out to Amish country in the morning, but got busy at the library. While indoors I made a pastrami sandwich and read for while.
After the storm had passed and the sun was out I took my cruise out to Amish country. Stopping at a place that makes cheese from the Amish cows. I bought a cube of this supposedly healthier cheese, but I do know this from experience: the eleven-year old Cheddar is too tart! I drove slowly because it was a narrow road and there was so much to see. Amish ladies at their roadside stand attempted to lure me into their siren-like clutches, men were dealing with huge logs at a sawmill, and the most memorable part was when I happened upon a kid fixing his cutter (horse-drawn reaper?) which he pulled behind two big draft horses. As I stopped and watched he waved and began cutting a four-foot swath around the perimeter of the contoured field of alfalfa. I missed getting a picture because I was so rapt in hearing the clink of the blades, the creak of the leather harness and seeing the boy with his blue shirt, black pants, and straw hat. As I watched him go over the hill and out of sight I reflected on what a difference in life styles America hosts. As I was sitting there I saw the tops of the horses begin to come over the hill again, so I waited for him to come around again. This time I talked with him and learned that it was his second crop of alfalfa and that he estimated it would take another hour to finish the field. Riding on the hard steel seat of the cutter could not have been too comfortable but that’s that way it was done. Another sight at some of the homes was the wash hanging out to dry. Guess what color Amish sheets are? Some may be white, but I saw some that were purple! All in all it was a very tranquilizing drive and enlightening in the way that such an experience opens up new worlds to us.
Driving down off Irish Ridge I came to the Kickapoo River where modern teenagers were in their shorts and bikini tops with coolers coming back from a float down the river. What a contrast to the kids up on the ridge working with the horses, scything weeds between the garden rows, and wearing long sleeves and pants in the same weather.
Passing through the tiny town of Norwalk I saw a sign for a parking area for the Elroy-Sparta Trail. This is the original rails-to-trails project. The trail is 32 miles long and goes through three tunnels, one of which is ¾ of a mile long. Bring your own flashlight! I sat beside the trail taking a few photos of a family getting ready to take their four kids on bikes and a tow-behind infant carrier on the trail. It takes all kinds because as I was watching the family get ready for their slow ride, a pack of Tour de France strays whistled by on their way to a new world’s record I suppose. The town also had some hanging baskets of pink and purple peonies that were in full flower. I marveled at the vivid, sunlit floral radiance and the talent it takes to grow such beauty for others to enjoy.
Coming back into Sparta from the east and I finally made my way to Ginny’s. It was also tranquilizing. Karen and I talked on the phone while I was the only one out in the deck by the creek; I had a delicious egg salad sandwich with a chocolate milkshake topped by whipped cream and a cherry.
Refreshed in mind and body I came back to the trailer and began getting the truck and trailer ready to go in the morning. It was then that I noticed the low-tech”Speed Bump“ sign and the bump itself. The “bump” was just a log, half buried in the dirt road. Crude, but clever and effective. The campground has really spoiled me with its laundry, store, swimming pool and sylvan setting.
Sunday 7-24-11
Leaving Sparta, Milwaukee-bound
I rose and shone for an early morning jog. Catching the rising sun on a hilltop cornfield I was struck by the brilliance of the yellow tassels of the tops of the corn here. Other fields along the way in Missouri were not this mature. What I now saw though was that Mr. Deere had capitalized on the both the bright yellow of the tassels and the bright green of the corn stalks for the color motif of his tractors. What better colors for the implements meant to harvest this most plentiful of crops? My other observation while jogging was that after seeing the cowgirls in Huron and country boys in Sparta in the heat, I began to understand why a person would purposely cut out the sides of their t-shirt. It’s hot, you’re working, you’re gonna perspire, but with the shirt cutout…no perspirations stains on the garment to gross out others. It’s a considerate move after all. I guess this is an example of how travel helps us understand others. I’m just not sure I, or you, needed to know it.
There was one other unique observation emergent from the jog. In a large field of soybeans, there was one corn plant that stood up above the lowly beans. I guess it was a survivor from the year before, but it made me laugh since it looked so out of place yet was clearly doing just fine. “Good for you, persevere and show those beans what a real plant can do” I called to it.
After breaking camp, folding up the awning, loading the truck I was on the road by eight a.m. About halfway to Milwaukee the iPhone informed me that I had gotten a call back from a message I’d left for young Travis Kaufman, a Mountain Home boy who now works in Madison. We agreed to meet for lunch and I’d phone him when I got near. I set the cruise control for 65 mph, which was the speed maximum, and everything, except one really slow car, passed me by. It was kind of relaxing though. I only had to change lanes that one time and the remainder of the time I got to listen to local radio and sightsee. No chance of falling asleep as the radio featured an hour’s worth of Polka Fest music. It was just Bobby Vinton, accordion excitement, and I, singing and dancing in the truck as we rolled along.
As I got closer to Madison I called Travis, but another pelting rainstorm where I had the windshield wipers on at maximum speed forced me to hang up and after the storm I called again and we agreed to meet for lunch at a TGIFridays. He’s doing great and seemed interested in learning more about what I’d been doing. Of course, he’s very polite and was pleased to learn that I’d been wearing one of his Grandpa Bob Kaufman’s shirts. After Bob passed away his wife asked me and others to come pick from Bob’s extensive wardrobe. He was pretty thin, so not a lot suited me, but I did get a few t-shirts. Travis says yes, about half of his shirt selections come from Grandpa Bob, so his memory and wardrobe live on. It’s kind of a nice way to keep a person in your thoughts. I shared one of my non-business cards with him and he remembered that he’d been at the trailer’s coming out party back in 2007. What a courteous, thoughtful, and sharp young man.
After lunch, Milwaukee beckoned and it wasn’t too long and I was there. More about driving in a big city, finding my way around a big city and the discoveries I made there will be in the next installment.
No comments:
Post a Comment