To Town and Back

Twas a big deal going to town yesterday.

I went with a purpose:  to see how much my hometown had changed in the past several weeks. 

Except for a couple of pass-throughs associated with other destinations, I have not been to town.  

So, the plan included passing by Memorial Field to see how much the construction leading to artificial turf had changed facility's appearance. 

Bill also suggested that I take the Baldy route to see all the downed trees from a violent windstorm last month.

Turned out that many have turned into big piles of wood.  

My loosely planned route also took me past my former homes.  

Happily, the first-ever "house that built me"  at 214 Euclid still stands and hasn't changed much in appearance in the past 70-plus years. 

Can't say the same for the childhood farm where we grew up on North Boyer. 

No sign left at all that we ever lived there. 

It's now an air facility of sorts with big hangars, plans for more development and a cyclone fence surrounding the woods where we played as children.

I drove past the home on Great Northern Road where Bill, Willie, Annie and I developed our family unit and memories over a 30-year span. 

It felt good to circulate through the old neighborhoods and to see a few remnants of the past, along with some of the traditional spring flowering shrubs/tree shows along the way.

I even almost shook hands with one of the neighborhood deer on Mountain View Drive.  As unconcerned as it seems to be, I think someone living up there must be giving hand-outs. 

My drive also took me past Cindy Chenault's lovely home where she was out pruning her shrubs while her handsome pup wandered the grounds. 

And, I must say that Neal Cochran's old farm is looking pretty spiffed up with the painted sheds providing an impressive contrast to greening fields.   

The farm was always pretty impressive back in the good ol' days when I spent several hours plucking cherries from an overloaded tree. 

I went through Moodyville and cut over to Baldy, as assigned and then along Upland Drive, through Syringa Heights and then past the park and the football field. 

The field is a mass of dirt right now, so not a lot of photographic opportunities.  Plus, the rain began to fall. 

I even drove past my friend and blog editor Helen's house, taking a picture on purpose to liven up her morning when she reads the blog. 

During my drive, a text from Bill appeared on the phone. 

"Get the Reader, if you feel comfortable doing so," it read. 

By that time, I had already decided that I would take the big step of stopping by Co-Op Country Store to pick up some salt for the horses. 

Once there, I donned my Gonzaga bandana, headed into the store, grabbed some more packets of corn, ordered the salt to be brought to my car and looked for the Reader.

Since it wasn't there, that meant another trip to Yoke's and another cover-up with the bandana. 

After leaving my car, I saw a familiar face sitting in a car nearby. 

As I told Ellie, our brief visit was a gift.  Amazing how the solitude past few weeks have heightened and enhanced interaction with our friends, albeit from a distance as opposed to a coffee klatch or a lunch gathering. 

I have to admit that the thought of "never seeing some people again" has entered my mind far too often of late. 

Believe me, "seeing" in person surpasses any technological gimmick for us to interact virtually.

No complaints whatsoever about their availabilty in these times, but through these times, I have learned more than ever that purity of human to human interaction cannot be matched. 

So, Ellie, it was great seeing and visiting with you.

I did grab two copies of the Reader at Yoke's and then headed home, learning from our TV that I should have also picked up a bottle or two of Chlorox spray. 

Dang, I'll bet it starts going off the shelves, just like toilet paper!

Anyway, the trip to and from town netted a healthy dose of nostalgia, some beautiful bucolic scenes and a pleasant visual distraction from overdosing on Covid-19 mind tripping.   

Happy Friday. 

This stone house on Lake Street was the first home where my mother lived briefly after moving to Sandpoint from Chicago in 1945. 

She later moved around the corner to a little house on Euclid where I spent my first three years of life.

Mother always liked to say that pretty much everyone who moved to Sandpoint back in those days lived in that big stone house for a time.