The Days on 1100 E

Written March 2007.

Foreword

I live my life by the web. My first computer was a Commodore 64. Black screen. Green text. Really big floppy disks. That was it. And yet, I fell in love with learning how to make it compute. I think that was in 4th grade. I've been addicted ever since. By the time of Windows 3.1, the world of the outdoors was becoming a distant memory. I offer these stories, not as literary masterpieces, but glimpses in to an amazing computer-less childhood. Yes, it's possible. We look back on the 40s & 50s with such nostalgia and admiration of simpler times, but the reality is, I'm already looking back to the early 80s with that same since of loss & adoration.

Introduction

There were no straight roads where I grew up. Well, none any more than a half mile long. They were all laid out at right angles, following property lines more than good sense. The land was flat and so my road was visible for miles down the way, except when the corn stalks reached their full potential in late summer. In those days, my Mom limited our biking distance to the first sharp turn. On around the second bend was the entrance to the long driveway that lead to the farm where my grandparents lived. We could see the silhouette of the whole farm from our living room window. The series of bins, sheds, & augers held such wonder for me, as if they were my own Versailles. I remember the excitement when we were finally given permission to ride our bikes all the way there. Of course, we'd done it several times before, but it was nice not having to lie about it.

It's queer that as children we have a certain affinity for remembering the details and as adults, a nostalgia for recalling them. That strip of road, old 1100 E, was the central part of the best adventures of my life.

Adventure One

The ice was still thick & firm beneath my feet. The sun had long since set, but the floodlights on the corner of the house cast a strong but eerie light over the frontyard. It must have been below zero, but my brother, sister, & I were determined to make the most of this spring ice storm. The hills in our yard were not steep by any means, but a slick sheet of ice helped to compensate. We tried every object possible to maximize the experience, even our bikes, once we confirmed Mom was clear of any windows to see us. It can be assumed that attempt did not go well. Logic never was an answer to childhood curiosity.

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