Little Town Surviving

When I was growing up in Sac City, Iowa...

1)  There was nothing to do...EVER
2)  I gotta get out...as soon as humanly possible!
3)  Add 1 and 2 together and EVERYTHING HERE SUCKS!

Of course these were the thoughts of a young kid who just assumed the rest of the world had to be better than what we had growing up.  Guess that whole "grass always being greener on the other side" business starts at an early age.

When I was really little we had a movie theater in which I saw half a movie before mom dragged me out screaming and crying. In my defense, if she had just kept feeding me junior mints, I would've been good for the whole showing of Bambi.

We had a corner bakery, where if we were really good and mom had some extra cash, my sister and I could get some delicious cookies.  Or mom had extra cash and shoving cookies into our faces was the best way to get us to shut up.

I wasn't very old when both of these places went away, so there was literally nothing left to enjoy in our small, and getting smaller, town.  Sure we had the parade and the 4th of July fireworks, Chautauqua Days,  and we had the Porktoberfest, and Halloween.  So there were a few days out of the year where we could engorge ourselves full of one kind of food or another. But the other 300 and some odd days...nothing.

We had to entertain ourselves, either playing in the ravine, tearing around town on our bikes, swimming at the local pool, or playing football in Witte's yard.  We had Little League and some other Summer Recreation programs.  Eventually we got out own recreation center to go lift weights, play basketball, swim during the winter time, among other things.

Thinking back on things, I guess things didn't suck as bad as I once thought. For a small town we had a lot of things to do, whether it was on our own, or through programs and facilities that a lot of people put in hard work dedicated to giving us kids, as well as adults, things to do right there in our own little burg.

One of the places that always been a stalwart of the community for the most part under a few different owners, in the recreation area, was Indian Lanes, our local bowling alley.  Now I only used the bowling alley sparingly.  I was usually using most of my money to load myself up on Dr Pepper from the local Casey's, as if my hyperactive self wasn't already too much for some people to handle before the caffeine infusion.  But it was always a place where adults could go and have their adult fun with friends, and still bring their kids who could play arcade style games, or you know, bowl a few frames.

I was recently back in Sac City for Christmas with my wife and my sons to see my parents as well as my sister's family who was up visiting from Florida.  My best friend, Jed was also out with his family from Wyoming, along with his younger brother Jeremiah and his family coming up from my neck of the woods, to celebrate with the oldest brother Josh and his family.  They did a family gift exchange at the bowling alley, which I had learned was now being operated by Josh and his wife, and I think along with a certain guy named Joe Zimmerman.  I make the claim of Joe based on the fact that they have a Notre Dame flag hung up on a wall, and Joe is the only person I know who is truly a Notre Dame fan.  Other than that small blemish (Sorry Joe!), the place looks pretty good.

Now Joe has always been the kind of guy who was made for small town living, and many days I can't blame him despite my living in the Des Moines metro area.  I like to go back to my hometown just to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city.  Joe did his time out of the area, but as expected he came back to his roots and his family and friends.  Joe is always a friendly guy with a big goofy grin, a joke waiting on his lips to tell you, and a big old hug. I love the guy.

Josh Burns on the other hand... He was the big brother from another mother, the guy I loved to hate and hated to love.  He was always there to put me in my place when I needed it, and also to pick me up when I needed that.  He really is a chip off the old block that is his father, Monte, who I always regard as my 2nd dad.  Monte always made time for us boys, and for everybody else, both personally, as well as being a longtime baseball coach for a multitude of kids who grew up in Sac City.  Josh and I were never as close as Jed and I were, but he was always around.  I never knew what his plans for life were, when he went off to college in Missouri, but he came back to live and work in the area.  And now he runs the bowling alley.  Like his dad, he's doing his part to help keep the small town of Sac City going.

Some people reading this may see Indian Lanes as just one business in a small town in the middle of nowhere. But to some of us who grew up there, it's nice to see that some places and some people are still there, just as they always were.  And when you can find a place for the whole family to spend some fun time together for a few hours without breaking the bank, you want to keep that in any community.  I think Indian Lanes fills that role. So if you get a chance, go to Indian Lanes, say hello to the owners, grab a bite to eat and something to drink, and bowl a few games.  I promise you wont regret the fun time you'll have and you will support a locally owned business stick around for everyone there now and those to come.

211 North 13th St

Sac City, Iowa

(712) 662-7467

Halloween And Fun With The Boys

Halloween this year for us ended up leaving our suburban neighborhood and took a two plus hour drive up to rural Sac City, Iowa, my old home town. The boys got a chance to see their Nana and Grandpa, and go out trick-or-treating in the small town.

After the drive up Saturday morning, the boys committed to their usual routine. Josh did not waste any time in getting himself onto Nana's computer to play video games, and Buggy was quickly out the door to go play with Jack, the neighbor kid.

After awhile, that all subsided and they went down to play in the mythical wilderness of my childhood known as The Ravine. Most of this year, the ravine was off limits as the city was re-doing the storm/sewage water drainage system. I noticed as we drove by The Ravine before bending the corner to my parents that the entire valley looked a lot different than in years past. The lower valley was filled in with lush green grass, and the creek bed walls were now lined in most parts with rocks to prevent erosion. The surrounding hills however were still pretty much the same as I remember them; lots of trees and brush with dead limbs and leaves all over the ground. The boys spent a considerable amount of time down there this weekend, just enjoying exploring the area. At one point I was asked if they were allowed to go through The Tunnel (also known to some of us older people as the devil worshipper's hangout). Unfortunately for the boys, I know the water runs right through there as it passes underneath 9th street, and now being a parent, I didn't want them to soak their shoes. However, I did allow them to go over the road to the continuation of the ravine on the other side.

Turns out, in the case of Buggy, anyways, I might as well have let them go through the tunnel. Buggy slipped at some point and ended up in the creek, soaking his shoes, socks and partway up the legs of his pants. Oh well I guess. All part of being a kid.

Sunday came along, and there was more time in The Ravine. I sent the boys down. Soon Buggy came back. He was bored because "All you can do down there is play." Well geez...Didn't realize that playing was so uncool these days. He wanted to play on the computer inside. I asked him what the difference was since inside all he could do was play. He informed me with all the authority a 6 year-old can muster up that there is a huge difference between inside and outside play. Well, okay solves that issue. I still kicked him back out. As I helped him get his shoes back on, he then proceeds to tell me that "Josh did his homework three nights last week instead of doing it during the day like he was supposed to."

"Are you being a tattle tale I," I asked.
"No"
"Well then," I queried, "What is it you're doing, if you're not being a tattle tale?"
"I'm just telling on him!"

I guess the difference is in how you say it, not the intent. I must've forgot that childhood lesson over the years!

But I sent him back out to the Ravine to play with his brother, and shortly thereafter I attempted to go in their and sneak up on them. Unfortunately for me, they knew I was coming anyways, and instead of occupy themselves, they put themselves up on the area known as "Lookout Hill" and waited for my arrival, so they could come and shoot me with their toy guns. Josh being Josh, had actually scaled a small tree to get even more height to scan the territory for the rebel invader known as 'Dad.' Like father like son. I attempted to go in around the other side of the ravine, but all the leaves on the ground wouldn't cooperate, and rustled as loudly as a freight train as far as I was concerned. they quickly came down from their position and scaled up the side of Death Mountain to take me out. I knew they were coming from me, I just didn't realize how fast Josh was able to come up the steep side of the hill, and he was on top of me pretty quickly. I'm either losing my edge, or he's coming into his own as a scout.

After I was taken out by my boys, we moved back to Lookout Hill, and began to make improvements to the old campfire spot I had as a kid. We repaired and improved the old fire pit spot, and began constructing a few blinds with dead saplings, other branches and sticks, and leaves. We also carved out a few paths on the hill by clearing out the leaves so we could move about in a quieter manner. The 'campsite' wasn't anything you'll find in a high end construction innovation magazine, or outdoorsman type publication. We just used the bare bones and no real method to our madness. We just kept plugging away at it, and pretty soon my dad was yelling down into the ravine from his backyard to let us know it was time to come back up as supper was being made.

"Oh man, the parents are ruining my fun time!" Was the all I thought when I heard him yell down to us. Just like the old days, when I was the boys' age. So we came up, cleaned up and had some supper.

Then 6pm rolled around and it was time to take them out trick-or-treating. Both the boys did very well, with both of their buckets getting filled up, despite the fact that we covered a LOT less ground than I did during my years of trick-or-treating in that town. After we got back to my parents house, I tossed Buggy's still-wet shoes and socks in the dryer, and they hung out with some kids of family friends who stopped over for awhile, and around 9pm I had everything packed up, loaded up the candy-inhaling boys, and hit the road for a dark ride back home, getting in around 1130 or so. the boys were woken up long enough to get inside, grab a drink of water and go right back to sleep, this time in their own beds.

I don't have any pictures of the boys in costume yet, as I'm waiting on my mom to send the pictures via email. So when I get them, I'll put up a real quick picture blog.

Giving Brett the Finger and other observations...

Give Brett the Finger I thought, because of my hatred being openly expressed for Brett Favre, that this google ad on my page was really good, and inline with my thought process, then I read the rest of the little box:

Tell Brett what you think of him! Get a #4 Finger Decal or Cap today

Not quite what I was looking for. I might tell him how he's number 1 and all, but not with the same finger they are marketing.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You show them, you tell them, then you demonstrate it against them, and they still don't get it. Is football really THAT hard to understand? I mean, we're not talking about breaking down the intricacies of the game on an NFL level, or even getting them to understand how to control the game on a Playstation 3. First off, as much as I know about football, the NFL is a bit ahead of my curve, and a playstation has way too many buttons for me to figure it all out...I just pick a play or two and stick with a couple buttons. I consider that an achievement of a guy who grew up with the one button-one joystick Atari era.

What we're talking about is simple backyard, neighborhood football games. The same game I learned to play in the 80's (yeah, i'm that old). I'm playing kids that are high school age, who are smart enough to operate these new-fangled video game systems in their sleep (I'm not), are in shape (I'm not), and can run, throw and catch (which I can do the last 2 out of those 3). And yet, I can take just about anybody and beat an opposing team out in the yard.

I'm not that good of a player, I just know the game, but most of my teammattes aren't anywhere near that level of knowledge. So I play with a bunch of kids, even when I have the teenagers, who understand at best the concept of football. And here I am, a 30 year old guy staring very near the peak of that proverbial hill I'm supposed to be going over sometime in the future, who is out of shape (I mention it again because of how badly that condition is for me), and yet I embarass these kids everytime we play.

The other day, I used my 5 year old. On offense, it was easy...just give Buggy the ball. And while I did a little bit of blocking, Buggy made easy work out of a couple of kids twice his size and twice his age....especially after I pointed out to him NOT to run backwards, but towards the endzone. On defense, it got to the point where I showed the other side a play to run, and LET them run it, just so they would score...

I hate to embarrass the kids, but at the same time I'd like SOME competition. I don't know if I've just aged with the kids who actually take an interest in and try at football, or if its just a city kid thing where kids are interested in basketball and soccer, or "just hanging out" as their main ideas of how to occupy their time. And of course, I love how kids complain how bored they are, but any ideas of what to do are met with the constant phrase "Naw, I don't feel like doing that."

Now to be fair, I'm sure my parents could say the same thing about me back then, but it was usually when there was NOONE to play with. That and their idea of me cleaning my room "to ease my boredom' doesn't exactly fly as a legitimate suggestion.

Growing up in Sac City, we had two things going for us. A ravine, and Witte's yard. The ravine was for exploring, mapping out, and playing war or building a fort. But Witte's Yard...that was football central, and in our neighborhood it was the equivalent of Soldier Field. Hallowed grounds to be sure. Rain, Snow, Sunshine, Cold or Hot, we'd play, because it didn't matter to us when we had a group of us together. We just played..by the rules, and hard. It was all about winning, and effort and all that other crap a coach would say while giving you a pre-game or halftime speech.

It didn't matter if there was only 4 of us, or 20 of us...GAME ON!! And of course I was always out to try to show up my buddy Jay's older brother with my impressive skills, right up until he decided to show me he had moved on and learned even more to continue beating up on me on the gridiron. But now, he too is old like me, and I think that I can take him now...Josh is all broken. For reasons why see this video