Hello and welcome to a wintery Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is November 13th, and, folks, I think the snow is here to stay.
Greetings from Williams, Minnesota! This morning I'm enjoying a pancake breakfast at the community center while Senior 2.0 earns service hours. This is my first time at the center. I have properly visited Williams only one other time in my 15 years living in the Wannaska region to take part in Potato Days and to cheer on the princesses vying for Potato Day queen.
Even though this is my first time at this community center specifically, I can help but be gooey with nostalgia for community in general. The first memory came just from the sight of the snow after turning left onto Wildnerness Avenue. I stopped just before the train tracks and pointed. "See this here?" I said to my son. "This reminds me of my own childhood. The snow and snowbanks, the old houses, the train tracks. They remind me of my grandmother and growing up in Cohasset. It feels like the 1970s, this spot - this moment - right here."
That's what I love about these small, small towns along the Highway 11 corridor. They provide flickers of moments they take me back to my own childhood and further back to images of my parents' childhoods. I've seen plenty of photos from the 1950s and 1960s years of my parents' youth; of pink cabins, simple rowboats, and small white houses clapped tight against the winter emitting lines of smoke from chimneys, edged in with high snowbanks and tucked into pine tree groves. Considering I am a writer, it's ironic that I can feel so tongue-tied over the images imprinted on my brain. What delights me most is the sensory trigger - that smell, that sight, that sound - that evokes the comforting cozy of something unforgettable. Something timeless.
I enjoy the bits of chatter I overhear from the other breakfasters. The details are distinct, but the conversations are the same: "Oh, so you know Bob? Yeah, he's my neighbor. Oh, yeah? I used to drive truck with him. Hey, do you know Charlie from over in Roosevelt? Well, I'm not so sure about him, but I do know Ed who's got that cabin five miles north of Williams. Does he live by Elvin and Sue? Ah, yeah, he sure does. Oh, okay, her sister works at the Care Center in Warroad."
Framed photo spreads of the Williams High School graduating classes - the earliest dating 1917, then a leap to steady tributes from 1945 to 1972 - line the walls. A few years ago, I had the privilege of interviewing ice hockey Olympian Dan McKinnon. Knowing he was originally from Williams, I scan the years and the faces. I find his youthful face in the graduating class of 1945.
The young men are dashing in their suits and neatly combed pompadours. The girls impeccably coiffed, smiling over the shoulders of their dresses. And they've got the best names: Peggy Dollarhide, Lexina Butler, Deloris Jewell - and my absolute favorite - Olga Kiss. The next time I'm in search of a name for a fictional character, I need only gather inspiration from the Williams Community Center.
A Mr. E. J. Petersen, Princ., catches my eye. His expression in his earliest photo as principal is a somber "Yep, here I am." The next year, I imagine his eyes to say, "What am I doing here?" It's the eye roll of 1947 that makes me laugh out loud. His shocked look of 1948 says, "My God, how is it I'm still here?" He's succeeded in 1949 by a fresh-faced fellow who appears pleased to have "Princ." behind his name. Of course, I have no idea if my imaginings hit the mark, but it's fun to pretend.
On two sections of wall, below the graduating classes, is a Memorial Day 2019 tribute compiled by the local branch of the American Legion Auxiliary. The impressive spread features approximately 300 servicemen and women filling six black posterboards. Many of the photos are black and white. Most are grainy. The bulk of the veterans are noted for service in World Wars 1 and II and the Korean War. All of these people from this little place. I scan the dates for the oldest and find Floyd Kelly, 1892-1962, World War I, U.S. Army. Then a woman with a spectacular bouffant of rich brown curls atop her head that glint with sunkissed streaks of blonde. She wears a string of pearls and is laughing open-mouthed, the camera catching her profile in a moment of delight. Who was this Genny Herzog, 1923-1984, who served in the U.S. Marine Corps during World War II? What was she like?
A woman approaches my lone table. "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?" I had admired her lovely blue coat (I'm a knitter, you know) the moment she walked through the door and had felt an immediate, inexplicable kinship. Did I mind if she sat at my table? Not only did I not mind; I welcomed it.
I enjoy our variation of the above conversation, first with her, then with her husband, as we make our way from the topic of knowing So-and-So to other familiar chatty bases: the weather, deer hunting, and driving in the Twin Cities.
After the friendly chit-chat, I turn my attention to my laptop and back to this blog post. My thoughts return to the people on the walls. These aren't characters in a book, but real people. I have to remember that and be careful to respect and be mindful of their place and time in space. How many have I met or unknowingly exchanged smiles with at a pancake breakfast? My heart tingles with warmth all over again. My thoughts turn back to that laughing Genny in her smart suit dress and string of pearls. What is her story? I'm sure if I asked someone would know.
And maybe I will ask about her (and Olga Kiss) at the next pancake breakfast. There'll probably be one during Potato Days.
On This Day
Historic Highlights (credits)
Happy Birthday to You!🎶
Remembering You
From Wikipedia:
ReplyDeleteKiss (Hungarian pronunciation: [ˈkiʃ]) is a very common Hungarian surname, derived from kis, meaning "small". The name was applied as a nickname for a person of small stature or the younger of two bearers of the same personal name.[1] It may refer to:
Antal Kiss (1935–2021), Hungarian athlete
August Kiss (1802—1865), German sculptor
Balázs Kiss (athlete) (born 1972), Hungarian athlete
Balázs Kiss (wrestler), Hungarian Greco-Roman wrestler
Béla Kiss (1877—?), Hungarian serial killer
The list goes on and on. Béla Kiss is probably dead by now. He disappeared when the police found the pickled remain of his victims in his backyard. Not someone you'd want to share pancakes with.
So...are you thinking biography or historical fiction??? ;)
DeleteWhat a vignette! You really capture the conversations that reveal once more that unless one is born in these parts and descended from three generations who did the same, one will never be part of the local flora and fauna, even if equipped with knowing who lives near so-and-so. But good on ya'; you capture the warmth of community, whatever the configuration may be.
ReplyDelete