Horse Play

Middleton, Wisconsin, circa 1990

This is a vanished rural scene, this picture was taken on the outskirts of Madison Wisconsin.

It’s in an area that has since been thoroughly developed with McMansions and strip malls.

Love, Sin and Time

I hope it wasn’t too great a shock.
We’ve had some good times, its true.
You’ve been more than generous with love,
Our love, sin and time. Our love, sin and time.

This season now it is through
I couldn’t love you any more, dear
Than I already had, with
My love, sin and time. My love, sin and time.

The time we spent together was no sin.
But that kind of knowledge has a limit.
That border now it has been breached,
Of love, sin and time. Our love, sin and time.

In another world, or in a different time,
These regrets wouldn’t have to have been said.
But we live in this world now—and in its time.
Love, sin and time. Our love, sin and time.

Ever since that day, that day that I met you,
I knew that I would never forget you and
Our times of love, of sin, of time, oh yes!
Our love, sin and time. Our love, sin and time.

20 Years Ago on FITK

Diet Plan

When I was in my early twenties, Uncle Sam thought it would be a good idea if I joined in the quest to make the world safe for democracy. I didn't agree. My draft number was 88, I needed a plan. At my height (6’0”) if I weighed less than 127 lbs. I could get a deferment. So I dieted. Every day, for three weeks. I ate the following every day:

1 can of water-pack tuna.
2 slices lo-carb bread (it had sawdust in it!)
1 can of green beans
8 oz of unsweetened yogurt
1 small apple, or carrot
2 multivitamins

I ran five miles a day.
I went to school and worked a part-time job.
I ate about 500 calories a day.
I lost 20 pounds, getting down to 118.

When I was thin, I discovered that I had acquired a new state of mind, one with a sense of serenity, a sense of self-control.

I can now understand how “Anas” (Anorexics) can really get into being thin. If you have had little control in your life being able to have some sense of power is extremely gratifying. What I started to lack after a few weeks of dieting was a sense of perspective. It was all me, all the time, all in my little head. When the other voices started in my head, I knew it was time to stop.

I didn’t have a continuing problem with my weight, I had a short-term problem and I successfully dealt with it. I dieted twice and then the draft was over. I had managed to stick to my diet, keep my health, and also gain some insight.

Why is it that it is impossible for most anas to do this? There is some self-loathing element present that I don’t understand. Anorexia is a noxious weed which has taken root and cannot be easily removed.

1212 Cass Street

A little-known Prairie School masterpiece in La Crosse, Wisconsin.

My late sister and her husband owned this property for several years in the late 90s. It was was inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s work and designed by Otto Merman:

“Designed by Otto Merman in 1917 for industrialist Philo Gelatt, this La Crosse residence embodies the marked characteristics of the Prairie Style. Asymmetrical in plan, this two story house is constructed largely of brick and is topped by a low-pitch hip roof with broad overhanging eaves. The east end terminates in a polygonal bay with brick piers, while a one story, hip roof wing extends from each of the north and south walls. Horizontal lines delineate all facades with the aid of contrasting wood trim and horizontal bands of windows with continuous masonry sills; furthermore, there is a broad, flat chimney with a masonry cap. A slightly projecting entrance features geometric-design, tall casement windows and door--hallmarks of the Wrightian-derived style. Located on the grounds are an in-ground swimming pool and a garage/garden house structure.” ~ Wisconsin Historical Society

Stately and majestic, it was part of a neighborhood of similar homes. La Crosse has the greatest number of Prairie School houses in any city, but no Frank Lloyd Wright designs.

It was a comfortable place for entertaining, the rooms were spacious, the fireplace inviting:

The second floor Master bedroom suite had a magnificent view:

The house was at its dramatic best after nightfall:

Recent owners have permanently blurred-out the house in Google Street View:

But… you can watch this video tour of 1212 Cass from the last time it was sold.

The Last Days of Summer

The sun hangs low on our old porch rail
Days grow short yet skies don't pale
Grass still whispers tales of green
Tow-headed toddlers now unseen

Laughter echoes through the creaky gate
Memories cling though time won't wait
Tiny footprints in the dust
Fading moments we all trust

Oh! The days when shadows ran
Tiny hands and dreams so grand
Summer's end, we bid adieu
The old house whispers "I’ll remember you.”

Packing boxes, hearts heavy-laden
Touched by wind memories unbraided
Blue skies we leave behind
But in our hearts they’re enshrined

Life moves on, it does not tarry
Scenes of youth forever harried
Cavorting days now part of lore
Splinters of joy we implore

Through open windows shadows cast
Echoes of those days come fast
Whispering winds on hidden trails
Time's an anchor that never fails

Oh! The days when shadows ran
Tiny hands and dreams so grand
Summer's end, we bid adieu
The old house whispers "I’ll remember you.”


Concept: Stephen Cowdery
Story: https://flippistarchives.blogspot.com/2006/11/moving-out.html
Music: Suno

20 Years Ago on FITK

395



The Rum River Trail in Anoka runs between the River (naturally) and the Anoka Treatment Facility. Now it is a rehab center, but for many years it was a State Mental hospital that was, over the years, home to thousands of people who for one reason or another had lost the “thread.” The grounds are somewhat diminished now, but there are ruined walls and old foundations nearby that indicate its former size. At the north end of this area is the cemetery. It was for those who died there and had no family interested in claiming the remains. It is still maintained, at least the lawn is mowed, but this graveyard needs little care. Instead of headstones, there are small concrete blocks, 395 of them, set flush to the ground. A few of the blocks have been swallowed by trees. Each block has a number embossed in it. That's all. No names, d.o.b or d.o.d. The one exception is a granite marker next to number 267. I’m supposing that some family member overcame the stigma of having a relative “in Anoka” and memorialized her.

As is common in old cemeteries, the ground has shifted as the coffins below disintegrate. Here and there you see burrows of small animals among the plots.

Lying on the ground near the entrance to one burrow is a bleached white bone.

3 Comments:

Blogger lab munkay said...
That’s strangly sad and disturbing.

Blogger Comica said…
… that has to be one of the most depressing visuals I’ve had thus far! I mean, it doesn't seem like much, but in a description such as that… I just want to sob endlessly and label each headstone myself! giagh!

Blogger Professor Batty said…
… I’m sorry, it was very disturbing to me. I don't know what to think about it.

UPDATE: These numbered headstones were replaced with proper headstones a few years after this post.

Forest for the Trees

Finally, a post featuring some young wood for a change.

These “volunteers” sprouted in a caustic soda waste dump in Minneapolis, circa 1971. The facility that produced that toxic sludge is in the background, the trees were thriving despite the hellish landscape.

Nice Things Not Made Anymore

Door knob and plate, Minneapolis Court House, Circa 1888:

Milwaukee transit passes (1945-1966):

Harley-Davidson Dealer sign, circa 1935:

Upholstery for 1917 Ford Model T sedan door:

Eastlake furniture design elements, circa 1885:

20 Years Ago on FITK

The Upsetters



In the fall of 1966, America was on the verge of social turmoil. Race riots had occurred and would continue. The war in Vietnam was about to escalate. And in a humble basement in North Minneapolis, some nerdy teen-aged boys were trying to be a rock band. We had played around quite a bit (as far as our folks would let us) and were making some progress in our “career.” The upcoming homecoming show at our high school was a chance to strut our stuff and basically behave like juvenile apes, who will make a racket to impress the females of the colony.

Into this bucolic scene came the appropriately named “Upsetters.” The Upsetters were a vocal group that needed a band to back them. This was cool with us, but there were a few sticking points:

#1. They could really sing. They were going to make us look pretty foolish in that regard - Okay, we could do an instrumental for our song.

#2. They were girls. Okay, we liked girls (even if we only had a few clues as to what THAT was all about.)

#3. They were black. Not so okay.

Where we grew up had always been integrated, to some imperfect degree, it was all we had known since childhood, but we also knew that some kinds of integration were off-limits (“There's nothing wrong with it but these things never work out… ”) and this collaboration might be a little touchy with some folks. Our parents were, at least outwardly, supportive, and our rehearsals went smoothly.

When the homecoming show was held, our little combo played first, and got a nice response. Then the girls came out. They were tres chic: dressed in satin, and from the moment the lead singer began "My love is a like HEAT WAVE, burnin’ in my heart" the atmosphere in the auditorium became electric. We were now tapping into something different—a volatile mix of emotions that until now had slumbered within us.

That was then.

Now, in many parts of America, it seems that the climate has changed for the worst, with venal politicians and their paid media spokesmen decrying “diversity” and demonizing “social programs” and “liberal agendas.” All I know is that, for those three minutes in 1966, we had something great, and that fact will never change.

Thank you, Susan, Linda, Cookie and Ella.

Eastlake Pediments

More old wood from my disassembled Victorian fainting couch…

Pediments in furniture refer to a decorative element (crown) on top of a piece, similar in style to an architectual pediment topping a classical building.

I’ve re-purposed three of these, incorporating them into exisiting furniture I already had.

While my long-term judgement on their suitability remains to be seen, I enjoy the simple-yet-artful grace notes added onto these hand-crafted pieces from over 120 years ago:

Old Wood

I recently acquired some “old wood.” It was the backboard of a Victorian fainting couch. The couch itself had been destroyed and disposed of but much of the frame remained. These were secondary woods (possibly alder) and had been hidden by the upholstery. The patent notice on one of the boards (above) was for January 23d, 1877, meaning that the wood had most likely been taken from a tree that was planted around 1800! The board was still sound; I repurposed it into a shelf for my woodworking tools:

Of course, this wood isn’t really rare, I live in a house that is mostly made from wood of that era. Still, I find it rewarding that old wood can find a new use after one hundred fifty years. The other boards in the fainting couch that weren’t covered with upholstery were walnut, inscribed in the Eastlake-style. I’ll be posting more about that old wood in the coming days.

20 Years Ago on FITK

John-John Slept Here



A block from Lake Superior in Bayfield, Wisconsin, is Greunke’s First Street Inn.

It has been there for nearly 140 years, and has always been an inn. The floors on the second levels sag about 4 inches from the outside wall to the central hall. It has evidently been redecorated, but not really remodeled. On the first floor is a dining room, festooned with memorabilia and old photos. One framed collage tells the story of the time about ten years ago when John Kennedy Jr. stayed here. The newspaper clipping tells the story, but there are no photos of John Jr.. The owner stated in the collage that they thought John would appreciate being treated like anyone else. I mused on this a while, and started to think about all of the people who stayed here, for whatever reasons, over the years.

Bayfield was a fishing town and a farming center. Now it is a vacation destination for sailors and kayakers. I had been here about twenty years ago, in my show biz days. The harbor had changed, a lot of pricey condos and time-shares had gone up, and the marina had expanded, but Greunke’s has remained the same. A funky boarding house-style inn: showers, sinks and toilets down the hall. A place stuck in a pleasant time warp. My reverie ended and I looked at the collage again. Right next to the cover of Newsweek with John's face on it was his signed guest register receipt.

Room Six.

My room.

Was that a good omen or ill?

Ghost World

Pictures of places
Where you used to live
Time gone by
Memories give

A ghost town now
Silent and bare
Once was a community
Life everywhere

Ghost world we see
Past lives and dreams
Faded away
In still-framed scenes

When I moved in
Not much was left
Whispers of laughter
Echo of breath

History's shadow
In every stone
Where life once thrived
Now overgrown

Stories untold
Of days gone before
A vibrant world
Behind each door

Ghost world we see
Past lives and dreams
Faded away
In still-framed scenes

Concept and Imagery: Stephen Cowdery
Story: https://flippistarchives.blogspot.com/search?q=north+fifth+street
Music: Suno