Bio…
Grew up in Evansville. Small town. Good for kids. Safe. Thought we all were somebody when we lived there, but found out later that we weren’t, and it didn’t matter anyway.
Twenty five+ years in the business world. Many different roles moving up in small and medium local or national companies. Plenty of writing. Regular hard work.
Married with children, live in the Twin Cities. Got a puppy. She likes carrots. Very much an average, unassuming “Joe.” Nothing unusual, not a single skeleton. Bio Notes
?…..Could this be a ”Creative Segment”…..?
My childhood home. My bedroom was the second floor window on the right. From there I could almost see my Dad’s little deli and cafe. He worked there seven days a week. Took time off to teach us to fish, make a base hit, and do our homework. What a guy. A little town, in good ways; and in the bad ways, well, it was kind of hard to get into trouble. ‘Took a village. (ahem)
Here’s my neighbor Bob’s house. We were always getting in trouble with our moms. They kept us from blowing up coffee cans or putting out a window with a foul ball. Bob lived just one house away, so we always had each other to play with. He lives across the country now, but every couple of years we seem to be able to find an excuse or a way to get together.
My Dad’s deli. All of the kids worked there at some point. Dad never wanted my Mom to work there. She was willing to help out occasionally, but Dad didn’t feel she should have to “work.” We all know that it was plenty of work being married to my Dad and raising three kids, although we turned out o.k. I think the arrangement suited them just fine.
Kids in town hung out here after school. It’s funny now in retrospect. We all made fun of the owners, out of earshot of course. They seemed so simple, at the time. But it turns out they knew what all the kids in town were up to, and they would be in touch with all the parents just to check up. We never seemed to know how it was we got found out. Until fifteen years later.
Here’s where I learned how to relax. The town pool hall. In some big cities, a pool hall is a place you just don’t go into. I know this because I found out that those reputation(s) that precede them, (thanks Dad) were absolutely true. But in Evansville, lots of people gathered here to socialize. They had this giant old radio that was rebuilt to play FM, and had these big old speakers inside. It looked like a jukebox.
We’d sit around with at least two generations in there at any one time, listening to the old-timers and thinking we were cool kids. It helped that it was a dry hall. That’s another story. City fathers kept it clean with what could politely be called “peer pressure.” They do it with zoning ordinances elsewhere. At times small towns are more efficient.
I’d like to own one of these some day, but I’d probably have to move to a smaller town.
Well…..