Slight Detour: A Walk around the Block

It's where I went to school for three years.

At the time, it was Sandpoint Junior High School.

Before that, it was Sandpoint High School.

Some locals remember it as the Ninth Grade Center, and, if I recall correctly, my son Willie attended sixth grade in the annex.

Nowadays, after a major restoration project, the relatively new crowd in town has no problem calling it the Sandpoint Events Center.

And, these days, it's where I go to see my medical provider.

Whatever it's called, the majestic brick building truly remains as one of beloved historical structures of Sandpoint.

Foster and I spent some time near the old school yesterday, but first, I must get something off my chest.

It does my heart good to see the places that mean so much to so many restored, like the events center and the old post office/MickDuffs, Lincoln School/Lake Pend Oreille High School and the train depot.

It sickens me, however, to drive through the area where I grew up---one construction project after another with no clues left of the past.

For many, this is no big deal, but for those of us who spent their early history living on the pieces of earth, it's sad to drive down North Boyer and Woodland Drive and find little or no hint that we or our neighbors from back in the day ever lived there.

Instead, the scenes of old farms where families thrived on the rural life are now piles of dirt, followed by structures in various levels of completion.

It's okay because I'm fully aware that "progress" does happen, but that doesn't make it feel any better when tangible aspects of one's memory have been totally erased.

As a native of Sandpoint, I really appreciate places like the old junior high which has been lovingly preserved for its current use and where tangible elements of its past are still alive and vibrant.

I like the area near the old junior high because some of our family history still visibly exists, like the old stone house across from the former school on Lake Street.

A brief conversation the other day at Pine Street Woods with my brother and some friends reminded me of a fact buried deep within my psyche. I did not experience it, but my brother did.

In the early days after my mother arrived in Sandpoint, she and Mike lived in that old stone house, which has been beautifully maintained by its most recent owners.

Later, the family moved around the block to 214 Euclid. It was during that tenure that I came along in 1947.

The family's original Sandpoint homes in town still thrive just as they did way back when. Our farm on North Boyer: gone.

I parked in front of the stone house yesterday, and its owner Tom happened to be outside. After telling him of our family's history there, he graciously invited me inside where his wife Karen was working in the kitchen.

We walked through the home and then to their beautiful back yard with a host of flowers still blooming profusely and where one building has been converted to a sauna.

It was a fun and quick visit with Tom and Karen for Foster and me. My plan had been to walk around the block and take a few pictures.

Karen warned me about the sidewalk, which brings me to a couple of items I wish the City of Sandpoint would address: dangerous stretches of sidewalk and little or no attention to out-of-control weeds.

When I think of Sandpoint once winning the distinction of America's Most Beautiful Small Town, I wonder if weeds and hazardous sidewalks were considered.

Is there an ordinance requiring landowners, especially those who have put in developments to get rid of weeds, and is there a plan to fix sidewalks just waiting for huge lawsuits?

Just wondering.

If not, regarding either situation, I wish some efforts would be made to address both issues.

With Sandpoint's sprawl and with all those developments, it seems like tax money should be coming in to the coffers and that items like ubiquitous, ugly weeds deserve the attention of a weed-control expert.

Just think of the difference in our community's overall appearance if weeds were removed on regular basis.

Okay, off the soapbox and back to Foster's and my walk around the block. Ironically, as we started out, we met and visited with Ann, former curator of our local museum.

We did take great care with every step taken to avoid stumbling over those hunks of concrete sticking up in the air.

I enjoyed viewing scenes, like the alley next to our house where a few spooky things happened in the good ol' days. I walked past homes where families and friends we all knew lived during our youth.

Twas a trip down my Memory Lane, and it was nice to see buildings that reminded me that we did exist in that neighborhood so long ago.

It means a lot when the past is respected.

Happy Friday.