FROM WHERE I SIT Kid Memories of Outdoor Fun Jan. 18, 2012 pat spilseth




Today’s frigid weather is nothing like it was back in 1962 when the stiff winds, blowing snow, and sustained sub-zero temperatures crippled my hometown of Glenwood, MN, for three days. I hoped that school would be cancelled, but nope, not my school.



That winter a photographer from LIFE magazine arrived in town to spend nine days taking pictures of Crappietown, our village of ice houses clustered on Lake Minnewaska. There were so many houses that fishermen put out metal street signs to find friends fishing on the lake. That’s where my mom Esther drank coffee with her buddy Evelyn Husom in a tiny shack their men had built. Mom caught the biggest fish in the lake that season. Since Dad didn’t care for fish, and Mom hated that fishy smell in the house, they donated the fish to the hospital.



I remember at least one winter when the drifts were so immense, kids sledding up on the NP hill got caught in an avalanche. The fire department was called to rescue those kids.

No matter how low the thermometers dove, kids gathered at the skating rink to skate figure eights, the grapevine, and line up to play Crack the Whip. When our cheeks froze to white, we’d go inside to huddle by the warm stove belching out heat in the warming house. A friend would ‘pull’ our skates to alleviate the pressure of our crowded, frozen toes. Our soggy mittens, covered with icy dingleberries (frozen ice pebbles), and our sweaty stocking caps were hung to dry near the stove. Since we wore wool sweaters and padded snow pants, we stayed plenty warm. We only left the skating rink when the six o’clock whistle went off at the fire station. When the whistle blew, we’d be sitting at the kitchen table murmuring “Come Lord Jesus” grace, and Mom would announce, “Here’s people who eat on time!” We were home at noon for dinner, 6 for supper, and 10, when it was time to go to bed. Lunch meant cookies or cake with milk or coffee, which Mom’s kitchen served to many of the Courthouse Gang and the jail guests at 10AM, 3PM, and 8PM. Guys in Dad’s jail had a pretty good life.



I grew up hearing that old phrase, “Early to bed/ Early to rise/ Makes a man/ healthy, wealthy and wise.” In bed by 10, up by 6 or 7. I still operate on those hours. I’m not Mrs. Excitement! As far as wealthy, we thought a few families were rich because they drove new cars, lived in a new house, had a boat on the lake, and went on vacations grander than driving up to Duluth for a weekend. Few families had lots of money, but we did live the good life. Every kid I knew had a mom and dad, plenty of food on the table, and a warm bed to sleep in. Most of us had a dog or cat, a brother or sister, and attended school and church.



Kids growing up in the 50’s and 60’s in small town America played all day outdoors. Some might think we were deprived without all the technology and electronic gadgets we have today. But we were happy; our friends lived down the street, only a bike ride or quick walk away. Most of us had radios and record players. We had a big Philco radio in the dining room which tweaked my imagination when I listened to “Amos ‘n’ Andy, Abbott & Costello, Fibber McGee & Molly, Minnie Pearl, or Dragnet.” Some fearless kids listened to “Inner Sanctum Mysteries”. Not me; I was too scared of the boogey man, bats, and ghosts. We played Monopoly and Scrabble, card games and outdoor pick up games. We’d meet at the library, where we drove Mrs. Serrin, the librarian, crazy with our whispers as we flirted and attempted to check out books from those forbidden sections of age-appropriate books.



Though we had a few kids with some extra pounds, nobody was obese. Kids were too busy. We loved to dance at the weekend teen hops at the Lakeside Pavilion as well as school dances in the small gym after football and basketball games, which everybody in town attended. If a kid didn’t have farm chores to do, many had part time jobs in town. We worked after school and weekends at the two drug stores, Bob’s Foods, Gambles or Penny’s, the theatre, and other small businesses.



As soon as the weather warmed in the spring, it was a race to see who’d be the first to dip their toes wading in First Creek. When school was out, we’d ride our bikes to the beach, where Gail Setter was the life-long lifeguard. Stretching out on the hot sand next to our pals on old bath towels, we’d slather our bodies with baby oil or Coppertone and work on getting a good burn. Of course, that was before we knew about the sun’s cancer risks. But those tans really looked good.



Kids would race each other to the three diving towers, finally to the farthest diving tower way, way out in the deep water. Scampering up those metal rails, we’d take turns showing off our dives. Many turned into belly flops. When a body dove off the diving board and slapped the water with such force, it really hur. Some days we’d borrow Jimmy Gilman’s canoes and paddle across the lake to Starbuck to check out the lifeguards and the bathing beauties over there.



Nothing beats the outdoors for kids having fun. Rarely did we sit watching TV; we read and played indoor games when the weather was too bad to be outdoors. We were busy kids. We were skinny. Back then we didn’t worry about calories and gaining weight. We just wanted to have fun. 985 words