LaCrosse, Wisconsin was an idyllic place for a kid in 1966. The Mississippi River on the west side of town; Grandads Bluff on the east side of town; parks everywhere that they would flood for ice skating in winter and lots of kids, bicycles and of course G. Heileman and Sons brewing company. The town was a cultural melting pot. There are so many memories of that three year period, it is hard to know where to begin.
Mom Hagar put me in St. Thomas More Catholic school, a scant 4 blocks from our house. I went from 6th through 8th grade. I was an altar boy, in the choir and Father Schultz taught me how to box since I occasionally had to spend time in gym class having my attitude “adjusted”. Joe Tikle and I got thrown out of Spanish class one day because we couldn’t stop laughing about some now forgotten phrase that probably reminded us of school boy anatomy issues. That was worth several gym classes with Father Schultz and Mom and Dad Hagar had to visit with Sister Hildegarde, the principal. I did get to be a pretty decent boxer – at least at ducking and on occasion when my hormones would surge (translation: really PO’d) I could score a decent 12 year old jab or upper cut now and then. But the school was good and the learning was better and the friends were incredible.
We had our neighborhood “gang”. Tim Sciborski lived three houses down. Carl Newcomb and his 8 brothers and sisters lived one block over. There were a lot of other kids, but the three of us were pretty much inseparable. We rode our bikes far and wide across the city pretty much all day, up to bed time. From the banks of the river where there was a requisite rope swing, fishing and a lot of attempts at putting together rafts, to the trails and top of Grandad Bluff where we would take our BB pistols and have fun running on the trails and trying to shoot each other. It is a miracle that at the end of our stay in LaCrosse there were still six eyes between the three of us.
Of course at that age the whole concept of young ladies was pretty much front and center (no pun intended) on our minds. Tim had older sisters who were very attractive with lots of interested boy friends. If the boy friends got past the gauntlet of the three of us and Tim’s dad they earned a date. There was always a lot of speculation on what actually happened on those dates.
Carl spent a lot of time at our house. Mom Hagar would joke that she had twin sons that did not look at all like brothers. The competition for food and attention at our house was much less than at his. Carl just came and went pretty much as family. One of my favorite memories is still the day I said something that fired of Mom Hagar and she grabbed her famous wooden spoon and made a lunge for me. I saw in her eyes that it was a feet don’t fail me now moment and bee lined it out the door at a high rate of speed as Carl was coming up the front steps. I almost avoided knocking him backwards just as Mom was taking a swing. She missed and Carl was not hurt — much.
LaCrosse was a great bonding period with Dad and I. We had a basement that was sort of a man cave. We continued to develop film, enlarge photos, splice 8 mm movies, build model planes (his favorite) and ships, did woodworking and worked on radio equipment. We barbecued in the backyard with Mom furnishing ingredients and he and I burning a lot of charcoal. I was finally entrusted to mow the lawn – but it was one of those push mowers. I also had the job of shoveling the sidewalk. We had a hammock in the backyard which I utilized and Mom and Dad had a table and chair setup that was their martini spot.
Next: More memories (Chapter 3)