Strolling Down Memory Lane

Last week, I decided to take a trip to Olney. Other than quick trips for weddings and funerals, I haven’t been there in years.  I have been trying to find a time to get together with my Aunt Candie and an old friend from college for months, and this weekend, finally, the stars aligned, and it worked out for all three of us.

Friday ended up being a crazy day, and while I had planned on leaving here at 2 in order to beat weekend traffic out of the city, my plans didn’t quite work out, and it was 4 before I was ready to go. After spending 2 plus hours in a Missouri state vehicle inspection center, and dealing with a complete a-hole, I was ready to scream. I headed home, threw my suitcase in the car, and then spent the next 90 minutes sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic trying to get out of St. Louis. By the time I crossed the Mississippi into Illinois, (which should have been a 30 minute not 90 minute trip) I wished I had never planned such a trip. Traffic wasn’t a whole lot better in the first miles of Illinois, and I couldn’t even put the car on cruise. The state police were out in full force. I was driving Justin’s car, and I had called him while I was waiting for the inspection on the Expedition to ask him to put the CD's from my van into his car because he was going to leave with my van before I got home. Well, he forgot, so I ended up having to dig through a bunch of old stuff before I left to find CD’s to listen to when I was zipping through rural Illinois with no radio stations.

What a blessing that turned out to be!

Once I was completely away from St. Louis traffic, I turned off the AC, rolled down the window, opened the sunroof, and blasted my golden oldies CD’s, thankful that none of my kids were along to make fun of me. (They LOVE to make fun of me when I listen to songs that were popular as they say "in the olden days"). By the time I exited Highway 70 at Effingham, knots that I hadn’t even realized had tightened my shoulders loosened, and thanks to Katrina and the Waves and Roxette and Wham!  and Bob Seger, I was calm and cool and windblown and  ready for a fun weekend in the big town of Olney.  For once, I wasn’t even irritated and impatient as I followed slow-moving cars and trucks and combines down Rte. 130 between Newton and Olney.  The wind was whipping my hair around, and I felt free as a bird. I felt freer and more relaxed than I have felt in a very long time.

I have always loved Olney. When I was a kid spending summers with my aunts and grandma, I truly WAS free as a bird. As a city girl spending the summers in a small town, I had so many freedoms I didn’t have living in the city. I could ride my bike to the pool or to town to buy a soda at Bower’s drug store. I could ride my bike pretty much anywhere. I could WALK to the grocery store! In short, I loved Olney.

I haven’t lived in Olney since 1983. I used to visit much more than I do now when my parents lived there. This was the first weekend that I spent there that wasn’t because of a wedding or a funeral, and I enjoyed every minute of it.  Early Sunday afternoon, I left my aunt’s house  with hugs and promises to visit again soon, and I had every intention of heading straight home. I texted Tony and told him I was leaving. 

I sort of got sidetracked.

Imagine that!

In reality, it took me two hours to actually get out of Olney.

First, I drove by our old family house on Elm Street. I would give just about anything to be able to go inside and see what the new owner has done with the house. A few years ago, my cousin Libby was in Olney, and she walked up and knocked on the door, and he showed her around. I wasn't that brave. I took zoomed in pictures from across the street and then worried that they saw me and were calling the police to report someone stalking them.

Here are 2 pictures of my most favorite house ever.

Not only did my mother grow up in this house, but so did my grandmother, and my great grandmother. My great grandmother’s father built it as a wedding gift for my great great grandmother, who ended up dying in childbirth. I spent a great deal of my childhood in this house. It is an awesome house…every bedroom has (or at least had) a fireplace. The living room has three bay windows. Everyone knows how I feel about porches, and this house has the ultimate porch—perfect for hanging ferns and wicker swings. That big tree in the front yard has always been there, and I have many great memories of raking piles of leaves that were taller than me and then jumping in them.

 I was on a roll after that. I ended up at St. Josephs, and decided to take some pictures of the church Tony and I were married at.

From St. Joe's, I turned from Elliott onto Main Street, and decided that I had to stop at Hovey's for a Pepsi.

 Hovey’s has been around since I don’t know when, but my parents hung out there when they were kids. I doubt it looks much different today than it did in the 1950’s. I think it still has the same formica tables, although the red vinyl and chrome chairs look newer. Whenever I am in Hovey's, I always imagine '57 Chevy's at the curb and girls in saddle shoes.

After I left Hovey’s my reminiscing really kicked in.  As I walked back to my car, I decided to take a picture of theold library (that sadly has been replaced with a newer, more modern library)

and the movie theater.

This is where I saw my first movie. I was 11, and I went with Mom and Aunt Mary to see Paper Moon.  At the time, Paper Moon was quite scandalous, at least to my mom it was, and there were a few parts where she covered up my eyes.

My next stop was my Grandma Fulk’s house. The neighbors were out, and I really felt funny about taking pictures, but I really wanted to. So, I drove around the block, rolled down the window, and took a picture.

Looking at that little house made me a little sad. The bushes and plants are so overgrown, and I couldn’t help but remember how behind that tree, my grandma used sit on the patio in a rocking chair and feed squirrels from her hand. I remembered her beautiful flowers, mostly red geraniums, that lined the patio. I sat there for a long time looking at her house. I know it’s not her house anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time, but to me, it will always be my grandma’s house.

I reluctantly drove away and my next stop was the park. My grandma lived just two blocks from the park, so it didn’t take me long to drive there.

So many things are the same. So many things have changed. And sadly, while white squirrels used to be all over the park, I didn't see even one.

I was surprised to see these swings still scattered around. They used to be green, but other than that, they look exactly the same.

These next pictures are of what used to be the pool. Oh, how I loved going there! There was nothing like the Olney pool where we lived in St. Louis. I think going to the pool was my favorite thing about summer in Olney.

(I love how the original pool that was filled in years ago is still visible around the edge).

This deck overlooked the deep end of the pool.

It used to be painted pool-water blue. And it wasn’t so run down looking. If you jumped off of it into the pool, you were kicked out. I never jumped off that wall, but I did teach myself how to do a flip off the diving board the summer between 7^th and 8^th grade. It’s funny how when I  was a kid, that deck seemed so far above the water, and it’s actually only about 4 feet high.

I headed down the hill that falls away from where the chain link fence that surrounded the pool used to be

I was a bit shocked to see that this covered bridge is still there. When I was a kid, we were all scared of that bridge. We thought "perverts" hung out there...we didn't know what a pervert was, but we knew they hid out in that bridge waiting for little kids. The bridge looks just as creepy now as it did in the 1970s. I took this picture and high tailed it out of there because there was a very strange guy who was hacking away with a baseball bat at a dead tree branch while he mumbled to himself.

My last stop on the way out of Olney was one I knew would be emotional. I turned off the highway at "The Rez" to take a peek at Aunt Mary’s old house.

And it’s no longer there. :(

It looks like someone tore it down and built a new house. I drove around the whole area, and there are quite a few brand spanking new huge all-brick homes with 3 car garages and BMW’s in the driveway. It just didn’t seem to “fit” with what I remember…cute little cabin-type houses that back up to the lake with beat up looking metal fishing boats tied to rickety docks.

I drove around, and then parked my car, got out and walked down to the lake through a small grove of pine trees.

The carpet of needles on the ground was so deep my feet sank. It smelled wonderful though, and I gathered some pine cones that I brought home and put in a bowl that is now sitting on my desk.

 I couldn’t get to anyplace that would enable me to take a picture of Aunt Mary’s old house, but it’s just around the bend in this picture.

 After I took pictures from here, I drove back to where her house used to be. I decided to be brave, knock on the door and ask whoever lives there if I could walk around back and look at the lake. There were three cars in the driveway, but no one answered the door, so I did walk around the sides of the house and take a few photos, but I was too chicken to walk all the way into the yard.

I had to take this picture. There used to be a huge pine tree here that Aunt Mary always had covered with those old fashioned gigantic Christmas lights. When we were all kids, we were so excited when we pulled into her driveway late at night and saw that lit-up tree. There used to be a stone wall where that fence now is.

I also picked up some of these cute little green acorns before driving away.

My last stop on the way out of Olney was Fox Creek Winery. Wow, was that off the beaten path! I almost gave up and turned around to head back to the highway. I bought a bottle of wine while I was there. Right now, I am enjoying a glass!

For the next hour, I sped down the 2-lane country highway that winds through the heart of Illinois farm country. There were storm clouds looming, and the combination of stormy skies and corn fields was quite beautiful. As I passed through towns so small they don’t even have a stop light, I think for the first time, I truly appreciated where I came from. I have driven that road hundreds of times throughout my life—as a child, when the drive down those country roads meant we were “almost there;” as a college student on the way to and from college on weekends and school vacations; as an adult heading “home” to visit relatives for holidays and weddings and funerals and reunions and for absolutely no reason at all. But in all of those years, I never really “saw” what was right in front of my face. That drive between Effingham and Olney was simply either the last little bit of a drive to get to Olney, or the last little bit of a drive before we hit the interstate that would take us back to the city.

Yesterday, I really appreciated it for what it is…a beautiful, peaceful stretch of road that has the amazing ability to massage away knots from my shoulders and my mind. My drive to Olney will never be the same again.

My last stop of the day was in Effingham, where I sat at a white picnic table and ate a turtle sundae at Homewood Grill. A few minutes later, I merged onto interstate 70 leaving cows and the amber waves of grain far behind. Soon, my oldies CD’s were put back in their cases as I neared St. Louis and I was able to pick up a decent radio station.  On my way back into the city, I once again found myself sitting in traffic. As I inched across the bridge that spans the Mississippi separating Missouri from Illinois, I felt myself tensing up, and I began channel surfing on the radio to find out what was holding up traffic. Then, in an effort to bring back the feelings of peace I had felt just a few hours before, I turned the radio off, rolled down the window, and put in another oldies CD. I was ready to head home with a much lighter heart than I had when I left.

And realizing how good for my soul a weekend in Olney was, I vowed to myself that I will not let so much time go by before I visit again.