tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69718032011-06-06T09:20:30.725-05:00<em>Suppose you decide to retire. Where to live - Florida, Arizona? What if you, now a senior citizen, returned (to Indiana after 40 years in California, North Carolina, Texas and New Jersey) to live in the town where you grew up?</em>Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.comBlogger901100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-17295383742955047942009-02-18T14:17:00.000-06:002009-02-18T14:19:51.804-06:00

Cloudless steel gray sky,Naked tree limbs bend with the wind -Lead edge of spring: PEEPS.

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-85453845504642381552009-02-17T15:05:00.001-06:002009-02-17T15:05:17.112-06:00

1964 Mexico

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1169387719744952772007-01-21T07:54:00.000-06:002007-01-21T08:19:01.110-06:00

1458 Chestnut is now an empty lot now.   We've forgotten a lot about living at 1458 Chestnut. This January 2007 exchange of emails is some of what we remember:from John to BOB, Billdate Jan 9 I don't know why, but when they tear down a building that was part ofyour life, it seems a little sad. This time it was 1458 Chestnut.East Chestnut Street was an o.k. neighborhood when we lived there inthe

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1167575168057498922006-12-31T08:24:00.000-06:002006-12-31T08:26:09.563-06:00

jdmcfall100

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1158984584060504972006-09-22T23:08:00.000-05:002006-09-22T23:09:44.986-05:00

It doesn't seem that long ago when Sandy Hartman was cruising Wabash Avenue in a new white Buick Special.Or when I escorted Susie Hines to a formal dance.by jdmcfall100 click on the picture to enlargebut that new Buick is a '54 and, the Harvest Moon Dance of 1954 was the last formal dance I had sporting those pre-Orpheum Barber Shop flat top locks.This week I went out to Sandy's lakeside home

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1157718822210994962006-09-08T07:33:00.000-05:002006-09-08T21:14:49.830-05:00

From the perspective of the WTHI TV tower cam 500 feet above the station on Ohio Street, the Vigo County Public Library looks like a wide "W" on the site where we spent those formative years. (you'll need to click on the small picture to see a bigger one... clicking on most of these gives you a slightly better view) by jdmcfall100Remember the Wiley mascot, Archibald? I have been told that

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1157115271836408372006-09-01T07:47:00.000-05:002006-09-03T15:26:21.776-05:00

The block north of the old Wiley High School on the west side of South 7th Street hasn't changed much in 50 years. Flower shop, and others leading to the Indiana Theater. The Bouliez donut shop has been replaced by a tattoo parlor. The block where Wiley sat is the site of the Public Library. It was hard for me to picture what the old Terre Haute High School and Wiley campus looked like so I

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1156364546044472952006-08-23T15:22:00.000-05:002006-08-26T07:37:08.196-05:00

How many can name all nine of these teachers without looking in the yearbook? The pictures came to me from Don Martin (class of 56) but everyone I knew at Wiley, from the class of '54 to '60, should be able to name most of them. Click on the picture to make it larger if you need to. Most of the above came to me via Don Martin. I can name most of these faculty members.In ways we cannot count, our

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1156055170720310142006-08-20T01:25:00.000-05:002006-08-21T09:05:02.490-05:00

It is almost the end of the long summer reunion season here in Terre Haute and the rains came this week and cooled things down so that the temperature is merely in the 80s after sundown. I picked up Mike McCormick at a party his daughter was throwing out on the south side of East Poplar Street in a neighborhood that seemed familiar to me. I wondered if it was part of the Corey Place where the

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1152140472914785772006-07-05T18:00:00.000-05:002006-09-09T07:58:05.326-05:00

These were taken at the Ute Shelter at Deming Park on the 24th of June.Mary Jane Aten FaustFred Smith John BlouchDoris Shaefer Williams Wayne BovenschenmobHarold Maxwell Wayne Bovenschen Barry AndersonBryce WestHaroldl Maxwell Gyp NehfDon BarrNancy Criss Town Barry Anderson

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1152131816831492972006-07-05T15:32:00.001-05:002006-07-05T15:36:56.850-05:00

Ambrosini'sJohn BlouchKaty Farmer Losier, Carolyn Boes (Gene's widow)KatyJulius LoesierRob RobbinsMike McCormick (56)Mary Farmer Conrad, Hank ConradLadonna GrimesAlyce Ann Reece Dressler Gyp Nehf SlaussenAlyce Ann!Larry Rush Rob Robbins Mary Ann Coppock (former Mrs. Tom Thomson) Bev Black(T58)Jay QuinnDave CoffinLarry Rush Wayne Bovenschen Tom Morgan (G58)Bev Black Stu "Deb" FreigyNancy Criss

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1152131681432886372006-07-05T15:32:00.000-05:002006-07-05T15:34:41.450-05:00

Ambrosini'sJohn BlouchKaty Farmer Losier, Carolyn Boes (Gene's widow)KatyJulius LoesierRob RobbinsMike McCormick (56)Mary Farmer Conrad, Hank ConradLadonna GrimesAlyce Ann Reece Dressler Gyp Nehf SlaussenAlyce Ann!Larry Rush Rob Robbins Mary Ann Coppock (former Mrs. Tom Thomson) Bev Black(T58)Jay QuinnDave CoffinLarry Rush Wayne Bovenschen Tom Morgan (G58)Bev Black Stu "Deb" FreigyNancy Criss

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1151864538817920462006-07-02T13:20:00.000-05:002006-07-03T00:04:02.333-05:00

I visited the W56 Reunion Friday night and took a few pictures. I haven't identified all the people photographed and I'm missing a few married names and some of the pictures are a little blurry (someday I'll learn to hold a camera steady) but you might want to see them.Mike McCormick makes an announcement regarding events of the Wiley 56 50th reunion weekend during cocktail hour(s) at the Elks

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1149407674472500392006-06-04T02:53:00.000-05:002006-06-04T02:54:34.493-05:00

I found this 19th century picture of Terre Haute High School in the online section of the Vigo County Public Library. It looks familiar.

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1124815831151006822005-08-23T11:43:00.000-05:002006-03-13T10:00:40.186-05:00

"I got a leech on me" I thought I heard Dean's voice from somewhere behind me. His wife Nancy was ahead of me and I didn't know if I heard him right or if he was addressing her in some married couple code. We were more than halfway to Bridgeton, IN from the Mansfield dam on one of western Indiana's most beautiful and little used creeks, Big Raccoon. There was a background clattering of loose

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1123516865181860062005-08-08T11:00:00.000-05:002006-04-01T12:13:28.343-05:00

Some folks made and paid for reservations at the Otter Creek all classes reunion but did not attend. The earliest class represented at St. Mary's was the class of 1931. Alas, I did not get a picture but I did get this of the two ladies who represented the Otter Creek class of 1935, Mary Ellen CARTY Black and Mary STEWART Russell. A group of former teachers received high praise during the

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1123357222376579502005-08-06T14:40:00.000-05:002005-08-06T15:35:29.006-05:00

The eligibility rules for Otter Creek reunions are simple enough: if you are still alive and you went to Otter Creek, come on up. All that's left of the 1917 school that closed in 1961 is the gymnasium building and memories. The class of 55 had their own private 50th reunion at the Rod and Gun club Friday night and then all classes met in the old gym this morning for an hour or two of lively

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1122927644887292942005-08-01T15:20:00.000-05:002005-08-01T21:02:08.236-05:00

Driving north on Parke County 600 at a point where the drainage ditch is several feet below the road, a bird appeared at my right as if to merge but splayed out his wings and red tail feathers to drop upon some unlucky prey. I had not seen a red-tailed hawk from this perspective before.I passed him as he settled into the ditch and that's how I got such a good look at him. A few miles north, I

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1121003136242958032005-07-10T08:45:00.000-05:002005-07-10T10:35:18.580-05:00

I went out to the garage to get my cell phone and camera this morning. Yesterday Dean and I and one of his friends from work, Kendall, kayaked on one of the few streams with enough water, middle Eel River, and I left everything in the El Camino when I got home: muddy kayak and river boots, wet tee shirt and sweaty straw hat, kayak seat and life vest, cell phone and my camera in its waterproof

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1120364302693373782005-07-02T23:18:00.000-05:002005-07-04T11:54:28.430-05:00

I went with Dean on a kayaking trip Saturday. We put in on Big Walnut at the Dick Huffman Bridge (Dean likes to call it the Pinkney Street Bridge because, I think, of old disputes with a Huffman descendant over recreational access to the river). We took out at the bridge where IN 42 crosses the Eel River.It's a trip I've made before but nothing changes more, trip to trip, than a moving stream.

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1118869037540675902005-06-15T15:49:00.000-05:002005-06-15T19:46:15.066-05:00

Of all times to be without my camera! My daughter is still recovering from an operation and not yet able to care for her second son, Anthony, who is sick with a flue bug (that caused godawful sinus drainage and nausea and eventual vomiting of green stuff the consistency of oatmeal) and my dear wife volunteered to sit with the sick boy if I would keep the number one grandson, Kevin, out of

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1117740146354042232005-06-02T14:22:00.000-05:002005-06-02T15:55:25.070-05:00

Upper right in this picture I nabbed from the WTHI-TV tower camera is Terre Haute's all time most famous neighborhood. Last month I accompanied a friend to the corner of 2nd and Cherry. Tom said we had been there before and it was a surprise to me because I never went there after Junior High and didn't meet Tom until late in high school but he remembers that we were showing an ISTC foreign

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1115658869190896162005-05-09T12:14:00.000-05:002005-05-09T20:23:26.176-05:00

This picture was captured from WTHI-TV tower cam on the date and time shown in the blue box. Center: east side of Terre Haute House. Right foreground: Ft. Harrison Savings and the Bement-Rae building. Together with the gray Federal building, upper right, and the red Tribune building, lower left, are the center of downtown Terre Haute. Hautians are trying to decide if this is a disposable core or

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1112452021820690992005-04-02T09:27:00.000-05:002005-04-02T09:33:59.496-05:00

This picture of Fairbanks Park on the banks of the Wabash on the first day of April was taken with a three times optical magnification from the west end of the Ohio Street bridge then digitally cropped using a free program called Picasa2.I'm not used to seeing the left bank of the Wabash from this angle. I easily recognize the white crossing arches that were a fountain but I had to look at the

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1112384254001852512005-04-01T14:37:00.000-05:002005-04-01T14:49:29.010-05:00

When asked what I thought about the Grand Re-Opening activities at the Terre Haute House, I had to say "It's about time!" I love when I'm right... the time was noon to one April 1, 2005. About time --- get it? I admire the way the folks at the CrossRoads Cafe in the shadow of this empty hotel keep their spirits up. They were behind this April Fools prank - employees or friends in costume

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1104601242690189662005-01-01T12:39:00.000-05:002005-01-01T12:45:54.663-05:00

Losing a fight to Larry McCracken, a blonde headed tough guy from my neighborhood who fought everyone he could one by one, losing that fight toughened me up. I never developed a taste for blood in my mouth nor could I close in for the kill like Larry but I did adopt some of his other techniques and used them as long as I fought. One of those ancient lessons served me well as I used my right foot

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1104302718522365462004-12-29T01:45:00.000-05:002004-12-29T01:45:18.523-05:00

Otter Creek flows north under the Hasselberger Road bridge on its way to the Wabash River. I'm glad to show you a picture of the snow before it melts completely.  

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1103572813071978962004-12-20T14:58:00.000-05:002004-12-20T15:00:13.070-05:00

When I rinsed the coffee stir spoon at the kitchen sink, I splashed a few drops of water on my hands. Our well water is cool here in Otter Creek township but these few drops seemed cooler than usual. I ran a little more into my hands and marvelled that it was so cold. I sipped a pot of coffee and watched the morning news on cable for the 5 minutes I could stand and read the local newspaper. When

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1098937120078421632004-10-27T23:18:00.000-05:002004-10-27T23:25:22.663-05:00

I took a lot of bad pictures this week and these two which are not too bad (IMO). The top one was on a sunny Monday near where IN 42 crosses IN 46 east of Terre Haute. The bottom one was taken when I picked up the Wednesday morning newspaper.  

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1098936760863651442004-10-27T23:04:00.000-05:002004-10-27T23:12:40.863-05:00

Personally, I don't like ketchup. I grew up with access to fresh or home canned tomatoes and used them as a condiment. I stayed home with Grandma on Saturday nights (and listened to her complain about FDR's New Deal) while my older brothers and cousins went to town. Then when I reached the age when I was allowed to join the big kids and go to a Movie on the town square in Marshall and before that

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1097679604522206542004-10-13T10:00:00.000-05:002006-03-12T23:06:12.986-05:00

I nabbed this picture from the WTHI-TV tower camera on a winter day when the wind was blowing smoke from the powerplant to the west (wind from the west is normal).  

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1097497339526068622004-10-11T07:22:00.000-05:002004-10-12T01:20:06.650-05:00

continued from...a smith (call him Lefty) and a genuine log cabin (aside) John: Pop, why didn't you tell me you were born in a log cabin? Pop: Hell, everybody I knew was. and there were more things to buy... though some were not likely I thought I might offer less than list for some of these but then what if it was accepted? there were horse and cart rides available...close there was food... and

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1097496271449328612004-10-11T07:04:00.000-05:002004-10-12T01:22:30.286-05:00

The Parke County Covered Bridge Festival is one of hundreds of Indiana local festivals held each year. They were having it when I moved away in 1966 and they continued today. The first one I attended was last year. I call my route the red dot route. It misses a lot of slow moving traffic and there will likely be no cars behind you and no implicit urging to press on. You can look things over in

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1097335809116088362004-10-09T10:26:00.000-05:002004-10-09T10:47:33.636-05:00

The Wabash Riverkeeper, a group that says it is for clean air, safe water and wild places, hosted a hors d'oeuvres, a cash bar and live bluegrass music at the Swope for those interested in the Wabash River. I tolerate eating elaborate little snacks and listening to stringed instruments but I really like being in the Swope Art Gallery. In the 70s when I still had dreams of becoming very rich, I

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1096988918579106532004-10-05T10:08:00.000-05:002004-10-05T10:08:38.580-05:00

Back Home Again In Indiana: August 2003 scroll down to the picture of the white house and what I thought about remembering Quentin Beecher and the Vietnam war last year. If I knew the other boys whose names are on the wall or these from this generation, I would have the same sense of loss. Let me say this, however, it denigrates them not one bit for anyone who disagreed with the policy that

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1096821454254448142004-10-03T11:37:00.000-05:002004-10-04T10:52:54.333-05:00

As an embedded reporter on the Hoosier front knee deep (at least) in Americana at Newport Indiana, the county seat of Vermillion County, I watch old people race older automobiles up a hill for the glory of it; watch the fall colors just before the trees turn: red tan, tan over red, yellow, green, and blue.You can buy a car on the court house steps or buy a french fried onion bloom.Inhale exhaust

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1096464147460180432004-09-29T08:19:00.000-05:002004-09-29T08:22:27.460-05:00

at the Coffee Grounds last night. The table is too small for the four chairs and the young people are seated at it squarely as if playing bridge. I ignore their conversation even though I am very close to them until Miss North (declarer) says in a bell-like voice: you (indicating the young man in the west seat) have goals much like mine - to do good by becoming a teacher. We have that in common.

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1095776565206139372004-09-21T09:01:00.000-05:002004-09-22T19:39:56.036-05:00

Several of the Internet Stars will be there. The guy who invented the mouse; the guy who invented the web (not Al); one of the major players in the free software movement; the first guy to use networks of small computers to work together on a single large problem; and lots of folks who are specialists in things I don't even understand. I'm going to try to get out there to listen to the keynote

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1095006041736086032004-09-12T11:20:00.000-05:002004-09-12T11:29:57.873-05:00

After supper last night, I decided to go down and check out the Blues Fest at 7th and Wabash. I drove to the downtown parking garage, entered from Ohio Street (Wabash was blocked between 6th and 8th) and drove to the top. Blues guitar sounds filled the air and I took a photo from the top NE corner of the parking structure. If you are reading this on THInd, I'll describe it for you. Imagine the

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1092924196880986802004-08-19T09:03:00.000-05:002005-05-28T13:33:37.816-05:00

I believe that Ed Tryon is alive and as well as someone can be in the 21st century in a large city like New York. I also imagine that he would be amused by our speculation regarding his rumored demise when we should all be concerned with our own. I remember seeing Ed sit on South 7th Street on the front porch of Margaret Whitmer sometimes when we were kids or on 9th at Annabelle Bohannon's. I

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1092629109403611132004-08-15T23:05:00.000-05:002004-08-16T00:19:10.503-05:00

The sight of the last bridge and it's promise of the coming take-out, the end of a tiring kayak trip, has a beauty no matter what it looks like but on this August 15th, the Wabash melts into the sky and the US 36 Bridge resembles a tunnel back to the real world. I lag behind the Bransons wanting to rest but not wanting the voyage to end.  

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1092532482399420872004-08-14T20:14:00.000-05:002004-08-14T20:17:47.436-05:00

After lunch on a cool day in early August, I invited Kevin and Anthony (ages 9 and 6) to follow my (age 64) lead. I mounted my bicycle and rode to the west end of our street and then down the farm trail and then south between the corn and the beans until we reached a thicket with weeds mashed down at the entrance. We wheeled the bikes into the place where there were signs of deer and then we

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1092183289817673572004-08-10T19:14:00.000-05:002004-08-10T19:14:49.816-05:00

Anthony and Kevin do the end-zone dance at Rose-Hulman on the east side of Terre Haute. 

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1092183165586639552004-08-10T19:12:00.000-05:002004-08-10T19:12:45.586-05:00

The Colts were between practice sessions so I let these little boys play with the big boy toys for a while. 

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1092183061510691622004-08-10T19:11:00.000-05:002004-08-10T19:11:01.510-05:00

We rode out to the end of the bike trail and back yesterday. Antho wanted to run over the snake but we all went around. The bike trail east of Terre Haute passes Rose-Hulman where the Colts are having summer camp. 

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1092088520428575542004-08-09T16:55:00.000-05:002004-08-09T16:57:09.086-05:00

Terre Haute - August 8. Things looked pretty ordinary from Denny's Parking Lot after a brunch and then I noticed the Vigo County Court House dome sticking up into the sky. 

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1090848875849136422004-07-26T08:34:00.000-05:002004-07-26T08:41:46.216-05:00

One autumn afternoon during a visit to Terre Haute, I had parked my rent-a-car several blocks from where I happened to meet Toad, a friend from the old days. That's why I said yes when (after a little reminiscing) he offered me a ride back to my car. Once inside the cluttered and dirty old sedan (I didn't know anyone still drove them) he said he had planned to go out to Deming Park and I said

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1090675020460492732004-07-24T08:17:00.000-05:002004-07-24T08:17:00.460-05:00

Trees protect southern Indiana streams from kayakers. They usually collect on the deep side, the outside, of a bend and the inside is usually shallow - sometimes too shallow to float. Usually there is enough water near the downed trees to allow passage without getting scraped off your kayak or hitting a submerged tree part at the wrong angle and getting upside down in the creek. The camera looks

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1090673785146367232004-07-24T07:56:00.000-05:002004-07-24T08:03:59.960-05:00

Like I say, I don't think either of these cabins is the one where we stayed... remember, Jess, when we floated the rowboat downstream and then had to row, row, row all the way back? We took turns rowing and both rowed together but, in the end, it was Jess who put his back into it and got us (I think Mary Kay was with us) back to the cabin. 40 years is a long time to remember something like that.  

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1090673514699262142004-07-24T07:51:00.000-05:002004-07-24T07:54:12.043-05:00

Leonard, Hodges and others (continued)- After the move to Paint Mill Lake in the early 60s, none of us returned to the Eel River cabin until last fall when we tried to find it by driving around on those roads for half a day. I don't think the cabin is there anymore but I snapped a picture of two cabins that looked a little like the way I remember it. From the Creek, I found a stairway to a

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1090673381396098962004-07-24T07:49:00.000-05:002004-07-24T07:49:41.396-05:00

Dick, I was on the Eel River yesterday with Dean Branson and Bryce West. It was up and a little muddy. We entered at the IN 46 bridge east of Bowling Green (between Dietz Lake and Bowling Green) and ran the river to the Center Point bridge (the replacement for the bridge near the cabin).It was a great day to be on the water. The Eel is very pretty downstream from the cabins where the south bank

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1090332090595452542004-07-20T09:01:00.000-05:002004-07-20T09:01:30.596-05:00

North 7th Street at the north edge of ISU. They're calling it the Arts Corridor because, I guess, it passes the new theater. The power plant for the university is in the red brick building at right with the clock tower; the old railroad tracks and the continuation of the bike trail cross the middle of the picture; it looks like an apartment building beyond the rr tracks. There's some uncovered

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1089496311613367842004-07-10T16:51:00.000-05:002005-05-28T13:12:57.083-05:00

Small Boat, Big Water, Big Plant. 3 part kayak adventure blog entries are called Plan B in the other blog. Please note that the my mention of an Indian Burial Ground is an error, a common error. Early settlers called the place where Revolutionary War Veterans were buried the Burying Grounds. The native americans were buried elsewhere. Probably.  

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1089051865080394122004-07-05T13:24:00.000-05:002004-07-05T13:24:25.080-05:00

After a day on a Park County farm and the Bull Riding competition and the animal barns at the Vermillion County fair at Cayuga, we got to the corner of 3rd and Washington at 9:12 and turned west then north on 1st Street and then east on Farrington and stopped in someone's driveway and popped the back window of the Pontiac open just in time for the start of the Fireworks. Anthony, the 5 year old,

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1088970332491454292004-07-04T14:45:00.000-05:002004-07-04T14:45:32.490-05:00

Antho tests his new shoes on Emerald Avenue  

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1088737017614027522004-07-01T21:56:00.000-05:002004-07-01T22:10:22.853-05:00

I'm not taking my new camera on the water until I get the waterproof case so these pictures are after we took the kayaks out of Sugar Creek at the Jackson Bridge. If there is a prettier creek to run than Sugar Creek through Turkey Run State Park, I don't know of it. (Dean and Bryce pose with me at the end of 8 miles on the creek.) The put-in was at a sandy beach, the same one used by the

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1088131843503485702004-06-24T21:50:00.000-05:002004-06-24T21:59:19.510-05:00

Being retired is not like not being busy. In early retirement, there is a sense of urgency to do fun things while a) you still can and b) now that there is no bull shit job to keep you thinking you’re too busy to have fun. What WAS I thinking to have worked so long? I should have been kayaking at 24 or 34 or at least 54. Waiting until age 64 is merely better than never. There were pressing

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1087064379628803872004-06-12T13:18:00.000-05:002005-05-28T13:02:12.056-05:00

June 11th notes and links to pictures of run.

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1086404121500967922004-06-04T21:55:00.000-05:002004-06-04T22:07:49.786-05:00

I felt the need to float the kayak Friday afternoon but had little time since Judy wanted me to take her shopping. The nearest pit of size is one that some folks call Crystal Lake. It is inside the city of Terre Haute at the NE corner of North 3rd Street (US 41) and Ft. Harrison Road. It was a gravel pit once but filled with water. In the old days, kids from Garfield swam there day and night in

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1086097399678753682004-06-01T08:43:00.000-05:002004-06-01T08:43:19.676-05:00

Halfway. A man on a four-wheeler welcomed us to the West Union bridge and told us a story about this long, long covered bridge. The mail man crossed the bridge and talked to a farmer with a large wagon of hay waiting to cross. They spoke and the mailman continued his rounds. On the way back, the farmer was still waiting to cross and staring through the length of the bridge - so he asked if there

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1086097002436604092004-06-01T08:36:00.000-05:002004-06-01T08:51:00.670-05:00

Sugar Creek Run May 29,2004: Webshots Album courtesy Bryce West (slide show) 

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1086096927486484202004-06-01T08:35:00.000-05:002004-06-01T08:47:34.503-05:00

Sugar Creek run, Jackson Bridge to West Union. Epson Album shared by Dean Branson 

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1085103779337848872004-05-20T20:42:00.000-05:002004-05-20T20:59:10.726-05:00

Ruins of my college pad on Atwater in Bloomington.  In 1959 I went to IU as a transfer student, a sophomore with a 3.5 grade average (of 4) after 5 quarters at Indiana State. I would change my major from business/accounting to Comparative Literature. I sought off campus housing and looked at rooms and apartments in neighborhoods near 3rd Street and Kirkwood. I was 20. I saw a kid on a bike in

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084657812558859412003-11-12T17:50:00.000-05:002004-05-15T16:53:19.920-05:00

Clay City  Terre Haute's Deming Park has a fine new playground but some of us like to play in smaller towns. Bryce and Jeanette have carved out a small piece of the American Dream in nearby Clay City (more clay than city) and seem happy as clams therein. I want to teach my grandsons that some folks live in small cities and some in small towns. Soon I'll take them to the country where they

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084657477179750182003-11-11T17:44:00.000-05:002004-05-15T16:47:14.833-05:00

New Deming Park Tradition  Conventional kid wisdom of 1949 had it that the truant officer drove a gray Plymouth coupe and we nervously hid ourselves from all gray cars without waiting to see if they bore the sailing ship Plymouth logo. With truant detours, it takes most of the day to travel the five miles between Cruft School and Deming Park on a school day but that's one of my first memories of

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084657311809850112003-11-05T05:40:00.000-05:002004-05-15T16:41:51.810-05:00

I was invited to watch the vote analysis TV show in the computer room of Eastern Motors after polls closed in 1965 or 66, one of the first local elections covered by television. On that Election Day, unofficial results from each polling place were telephoned to an operator who wrote them on a slip of paper; key punch operator punched them on card; computer operators batched then fed cards to

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084640982324536322003-10-31T01:07:00.000-05:002004-05-15T12:09:42.323-05:00

One of our day's most popular writers, wrote (approximately) that you never make friends again like you did when you were 13. He's right about so many things and people (including my wife) rush to buy and read every word he writes but I think Steven King is wrong; that new friendships can be formed at age 63 as well. While I'm disagreeing with famous authors, I'd like to tell Thomas Wolf that

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084659239171354802003-10-26T18:13:00.000-05:002004-05-19T23:13:57.863-05:00

A day on the Farm.  Seeing Indiana through the eyes of my grandsons, Californians. http://community.webshots.com/album/100314620RsTpFz At the Morgans' farm in Montezuma when we entered through the gates to the grand old farm house, all the yard dogs, the Jack Russel Terriers, the Border Collie and the momma of the hound dogs came out to meet Kevin and Anthony, Morgan followed behind them and

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084658385537273052003-10-26T17:59:00.000-05:002004-05-15T17:11:33.850-05:00

A day on the Farm  Seeing Indiana through the eyes of my grandsons, Californians. http://community.webshots.com/album/100314620RsTpFz At the Morgans' farm in Montezuma when we entered through the gates to the grand old farm house, all the yard dogs, the Jack Russel Terriers, the Border Collie and the momma of the hound dogs came out to meet Kevin and Anthony, Morgan followed behind them and

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084639888878407662003-10-22T23:51:00.000-05:002005-05-28T12:48:46.753-05:00

Old Campus. Entrance to the building that houses the graduate studies programs at ISU.In the late 1950s it was the social center of the college, the place where townies and dormies came together. Inside the lower doorway and to the right was "The Grill" where snacks, drinks and meals were served 12 hours a day. Card games were played, parties were planned and, once in a while, someone cracked a

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Harvest.  A pair of Massey Ferguson 8570s showed up on my road today to harvest the beans. Spewing a stream of chaff (probably everything but the beans) behind, they collected beans in a hopper that was emptied into a large farm truck. I watched the truck pass. The boy in the passenger seat wore a too big cap. It rested on his ears. Seeing the boy riding along reminded me of riding with my

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084638997650042072003-09-30T11:36:00.000-05:002004-05-15T11:40:46.510-05:00

view from Polar Street.  of the Wiley Annex. You can almost see the roof of the main building in the background. I’m recalling this story because my old buddy, Cooper, is going to visit me this week. We go way back to the time when we were in the same homeroom at the oldest high school, the downtown school. The school building was ancient 45 years ago and the top floor was condemned. Perhaps to

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084638529846530502003-09-29T23:28:00.000-05:002004-05-15T11:33:28.140-05:00

A strange Craft.   A college days chum told me that part of his youth was spent in an orphanage at the foot of this water tower while his parents sorted out “family” problems. He and his brother sometimes sat on the grass behind a fence and watched their father drive to and from work. Mental illness and an early death were in his future but he didn’t seem any stranger than the other college

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084638025361209942003-09-24T11:20:00.000-05:002004-05-15T11:22:52.943-05:00

Changes in Season.  On this 24th of September, a "just right" time Indiana squeezes between its too hot and too cold seasons, one of my friends wants one more kayak trip; another admits "trying to pretend that I am comfortable in a short sleeve shirt and walking shorts on this brisk cool day because it will be time to pack them away all too soon." It's a little like the picture above. I drew the

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084636865544955562003-09-16T23:01:00.000-05:002004-05-15T11:24:56.676-05:00

The Old Place on US 41; http://community.webshots.com/album/88617043ZpfIbA September 16, 2003 Terre Haute, IN Joe Bill - I hope everything is going ok with you in Missouri. It seemed like a short summer. Deer season will be here soon and, after that, Thanksgiving and then it's time for us to go to the desert for the winter. We had not planned to go to California at Thanksgiving time but the

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084558814259070492003-09-10T01:20:00.000-05:002004-05-14T13:22:24.903-05:00

Tourist Cabins on North US 41.  Before I ever met Jim Huntley, I had noticed the sign north of North Terre Haute that said Huntley's Cabins in front of the house that is pictured at top. Even then, in about 1954, Tourist's Cabins were out; Motel's were in. The Huntley family simply unplugged the electric sign and allowed the cabins to rot in place. What started as shade trees for the cabins

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084558712629920322003-09-09T01:16:00.000-05:002004-05-14T13:18:32.630-05:00

Waiting in Clinton without a car reminded me of a cold cold night in about 1958 when I had a date with a girl who lived there. We didn't get along too well on that night, had an argument that most of us have had, and I left her house on that sour note. I was going down Main Street, almost at the center of town (as it was then) when the Oldsmobile sputtered and the engine stopped running. I

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084558273652316332003-09-08T01:11:00.000-05:002004-05-14T13:14:17.096-05:00

Site of the Marquee Wars.   As I view the corner of Lafayette, 8th Street and 6th Avenue today, I think of about 1961. I see that the church building seems derelict and the tavern has been razed and there's not much left to show that it was once a battleground of the Marquee Wars, where the ambitions of two groups clashed. The church there (The Church) had had a bone to pick with neighboring

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084557928833524342003-09-06T01:05:00.000-05:002004-05-14T13:10:05.603-05:00

Stop Thief!   Having spent many years avoiding it, I barely recognized the building that once housed the variety store on 7th Street. When I was a barefoot lad of 6 and Mickey and Chuck were big kids (about 10), I wanted to hang around them but they never let me. One day they were playing with model cars and cameras. I watched as they mashed the cars together, put a little airplane glue on

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084557642625380842003-09-05T01:00:00.000-05:002004-05-14T13:02:47.913-05:00

Orange Dog on a Chain  From my childhood home at the southeast corner of 8th and Harrison, I could see the north side of Harrison Avenue. The Chesters family lived on the northwest corner and my view of their house always showed what I'm sure they called pride of ownership: manicured lawns, freshly painted house and garage. The Chesters themselves were always well dressed and the Chesters

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084557276496377432003-09-04T00:54:00.000-05:002004-05-14T12:57:55.740-05:00

Harrison Avenue at 10th  This was where Maryann, David, June, and Jack lived with their mom and dad. The enclosed carport that makes a garage was once a carport and a side porch. It looks as neat and clean as it was 50 years ago. The commercial building (left) was, before supermarkets caught on, our neighborhood grocery. In the fall after the summer after I grew from 5 foot 9 and 135 pounds to

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084556889267899282003-09-02T00:48:00.000-05:002004-05-14T12:52:51.993-05:00

Before Bussing.   In much the same way that I wonder if, for society, progress is progress, I wonder if, for me, growth is growth. Barbara McCarty was the cutest freckle faced, knobby kneed little girl in the third grade when I was in the fourth. I think she liked me too because she went out of her way to pass my house in the mornings so I could walk with her. After school, we walked together

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084544235397406122003-08-31T21:17:00.000-05:002004-05-14T09:30:37.810-05:00

Prototypical Church.  I suppose because it was the church of my youth, the one at 6th & Washington looks like I think a church should look. West and North doors enter the vestibule below the bell tower, steps lead to the sanctuary where rows of polished wooden pews face a pipe organ as tall as the stained glass windows you see on the west and north side of the church. If my parents had to be

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Beecher House.  One mile south of downtown, on heavily shaded 8th Street, I pass the house where I lived and park on the west side of the street to get a good look at the houses on the east side. When I was small and not allowed to cross any streets, this was the block where I could walk, bike and even spring shoe (another story) using the sidewalk and the tree rows if I would be careful and

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084542143682148382003-08-30T20:42:00.000-05:002004-05-14T08:48:19.833-05:00

The Dairy Bar.  At Ninth Street I parked on Washington where Mr. & Mrs. Spears had retired to a corner house and ran a dairy bar and restaurant of sorts there during the years after WWII. I never knew their given names. We called her Mrs. Spears… he was Pop. Pop: You’re a smart kid, Johnny, – suppose you woke up one morning and everything in the universe had grown to twice its size. Would you

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Old Oak on Harrison Avenue.  In 1944, I moved with my family to the house at 8th Street and Harrison Avenue. It was my 5th birthday and I called it my house and it is there that my character was formed. I lived there only twenty years and there was time away for college and active duty military service so it totals out that I've lived elsewhere for more than two thirds of my life. Yet it seems

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084541357329351462003-08-30T20:29:00.000-05:002004-05-14T08:32:22.350-05:00

Swan, the Toasty Shop and the Beauty Academy Girls.  Sights stir memories. Today it was the house on the south side of Swan. Three houses still stand side by side there. The middle one has pigeons on what must be a buggy roof. I walked by that house thousands of times but I never noticed it until the girls from the beauty school moved into the attic apartment. We hung out at the Toasty Shop in

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084540853312137162003-08-29T20:20:00.000-05:002004-05-14T08:25:54.096-05:00

Wabash.  Terre Haute sits on the banks of a river that: is too muddy for swimming, holds too much floating debris for power boating and is too swift and channels too much wind for canoeing and kayaking. The Wabash is ignored by most of Terre Haute. It seems strange that no one wants a balcony view of the Wabash, but you'll find very few. Once there were two apartments in a ceramic tile building

Syc2http://www.blogger.com/profile/00106108328413897875noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6971803.post-1084539600594715442003-08-28T19:55:00.000-05:002004-05-14T08:01:34.956-05:00

From 13th, I turned east on Chestnut and sat in my truck with 1458 in sight through the windshield. It’s only a few blocks from the Light House Mission now and decay is evident in the neighborhood. Some beaten down people with dirty hair and teeth that need work look away even before you look at them. There are vacant lots where some of the houses were so bad that they had to be torn down. I

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By Definition.  Here we are, not two miles from the house where my wife lived on the night of our first date, not 8 miles from mine. We’ve bought one of the new houses Fred the builder has installed in his cornfield one mile north of Otter Creek Junction. It’s been ten weeks. The curtains were hung last week and there are very few unpacked boxes in closets and in the garage. From the outside,

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