Skip to main content

Small Town Life

In this episode, Small Town Life . . .

With this Bonus segment, I want to address a recent comment, from a listener, posted on my Blog - On The Fly. It was this, 

"Please tell of your favorite moments growing up in Cuba, Illinois.”

That’s a great question. Hmmm, maybe we could make this a series . . .

First, let me say this, it was 1985 when I moved to California to pursue a completely transformed life as a gemologist, and educator. My blog posts over the years have focused on memories from my youth growing up in that small Midwestern town.

A few examples are:

Those documented memories are the synthesis of many years of listening to motivational tapes, Podcasts and reading books that trigger these special memories and allow me to embellish them as a writer.

So, let’s just jump right into a couple of my favorite moments not documented.

During my Jr. High years, one of my most treasured experiences was time spent with my little red beagle Pixy. What a special pup!

Every afternoon she was there to enthusiastically greet me when I came home from school. Her tail wagged so vigorously her hind end would leave the ground. She loved to run rabbits. So, I would grab my Daisy BB gun and take her to the woods.

Now we didn’t have to go very far, (about 3/4 of a mile) just cross the tracks, down the street, and into the woods. All those trips with Pixy I don’t think we ever killed a rabbit. It was simply the joy of watching her work the tracks, listening to her animated barking as she circled the woods. That image of only her tail visible, wagging above the brush, makes me smile to this day.

Another treasured memory was my regular trips to our local Post Office. Every other Saturday, with pride, I would present the money collected on my paper route to pay my monthly bill. In hindsight, this was a valuable lesson in respect and basic business practices.


Our Postmaster (Arnie Pederson) taught many of us young boys a valuable lesson during those visits. How to count money. Yes, I know that sounds trivial. You see, he would not accept a pile of money for the postal money order needed to settle our bill.


We were required to have all denominations in order. All bills face-up and facing the same way. And all the change in order from the smallest to largest value. We would wrap the pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters if there was enough to warrant that.


Once we paid the bill, he would prepare our money order. It was our job to address the envelope to The Daily Ledger office, purchase the stamp, then present it to him for mailing, the money left over was our earnings for the week.


My listening friends, when you hear someone speak of Small Town Midwestern values the following comes to mind; family first, neighborly, friendly, honest folks, dedicated to hard work, integrity, and faith.


These are just two of my “favorite moments growing up in Cuba, Illinois.”  Stay tuned . . . 


This is Patrick Ball, thanks for listening, see you in the next episode.

Comments

Kevin said…
I remember going to the Robertson's Standard gas station to buy a cold soda. You'd put a coin in the machine and then open the rectangular glass door to pull out your favorite soda. I would stand with my face in the open glass door to feel the cold air..no A/C back then. I'd then select my favorite beverage. But mostly I'd enjoy the cold air on my face. A/C is common place now...but not back then. Cox Corner was one of the few buildings with A/C back then and I'd be in there for hours looking at the comic books..but mostly enjoying the A/C.
September 28, 2020 at 11:25 AM
Sandy said…
I remember the mechanical horse in front of the Ben Franklin store..
September 28, 2020 at 1:32 PM
Patrick B. Ball said…
Kevin and Sandy, thanks for sharing. Yes, I remember both. In the summer I mowed yards for people around town. Would go to the Skelly Station and buy gas for $0.25 a gallon. yes, just a quarter. Also, do you remember the Green River drink you could get at Cox's Corner?
September 29, 2020 at 5:51 AM
Roberta Sherman White said…
Small town -Cuba had an armed robbery last pm ! Hope this finds you well . Dec 1st went for yearly mammogram & got news go on the 7th to OSF Peoria . Yes I had the c word -Cancer . I wanted you to know . Couldn t ask Michelle to let you know . I just finished radiation this past week. I should be cancer free - only time will tell .. on cancer pill . It s terrible side effects !! But I m still alive & for that I m grateful ! It s been a difficult 6 months but one finds out what’s really important in life . I went to Pekin daily for 21 days . Thought of Michelle & Harold every day ...remember your health is your wealth ... it s everything !
May 15, 2021 at 2:10 PM
Post a Comment

Most Popular of All Time

Morning Coffee

In this episode, Morning Coffee . . . Now, I’m not saying everyone needs coffee. Some folks get by just fine on, I don’t know, sunlight and positive thinking. Me? I’m pretty sure I started drinking the stuff sometime around the Reagan administration. Reading John Gierach’s "Ode to Campfire Coffee" in Trout Bum (a book that should be required reading for anyone who sees sleeping on the ground as recreation) got me thinking about how we’ve managed to complicate something as fundamentally simple as boiling water and adding grounds. Taste, you say? Look, black coffee is an acquired taste, like tequila or cilantro. I just don’t get it. Gierach, bless his heart, mostly drinks his java streamside, probably while wearing wool socks and waders and contemplating the mysteries of the universe. As for me? My outdoor coffee experience is a bit different. Picture this: the High Sierra, where campfires are banned (to avoid agitating Smoky Bear), and I’m huddled over a Whisperlite , coax...
1 comment
Read more

A B+ Kind of Life

Welcome back to this week's On the Fly . Retirement has taught me something unexpected: life gets a lot more enjoyable when you stop chasing perfection. Lately, I've been having an absolute blast playing executive par-3 courses like Rancho Carlsbad . A short iron, a sunny morning, and nowhere to be except the next tee—that's my kind of day. This Thursday, though, I'm raising the stakes. I'm heading to The Links at Lakehouse in San Marcos, a full-size par-71 course with enough water hazards to keep the local fish well-stocked with my golf balls. After shooting a 64 on a par-3 course, I've set myself a new goal: shoot an 89 before my birthday next August. Why 89? Because on a par-71 course, that's bogey golf—one extra stroke per hole. For non-golfers, think of it this way: par is like earning 100% on a final exam. Bogey golf is a solid B+. You got the job done, learned something, and probably had a lot more fun getting there. The older I get, the more I appre...
Post a Comment
Read more

Resurrecting the '90s Graphite

Let’s face it, there’s a certain danger in reading John Gierach's Trout Bum . His wit, self-deprecation, and sharp, effortless satire are entirely infectious. If you aren't careful, his words will inspire you to drop everything, wade into a freezing river, and try to outsmart a creature with a brain the size of a lentil. In my case, re-reading Gierach recently didn't send me straight to the river. It sent me digging through the dusty, spider-guarded corners of my garage. In the early 1990s, seeking a natural escape from Manhattan's concrete canyons, I decided to learn to cast a fly rod. I bought an Orvis Rocky Mountain —eight-and-a-half feet, three ounces, built for a five-weight line—and had absolutely no idea how to use it. To avoid aimlessly whipping the water like scrambling eggs, I took fly-fishing lessons from Al Cucci, co-author of Hatches , on the Delaware River. With his guidance, I fished renowned waters: the AuSable in New York and Michigan, and New Jersey...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Endless Work of Wisdom

It always makes me smile. The moment people learn I've officially entered what I like to call the Great Un-Working (retirement), they almost immediately ask the same question: “So . . . What do you do now?" I think they're expecting me to say I'm restoring a vintage sports car, hiking the John Muir Trail, or finally becoming fluent in French.   Instead, I tell them: "I live life deliberately." That's usually the point when I get a polite nod, followed by the unmistakable look of someone wondering whether I've simply found a more sophisticated way to say, “I’m becoming a bum.” Apparently, "living deliberately" sounds suspiciously like unemployment, just better branding. The truth is, what living deliberately looks like for me right now is taking time to synthesize a lifetime of experiences into these weekly reflections. It's slowing down long enough to ask what those experiences have taught me, while keeping the door wide open to the poss...
Post a Comment
Read more