Thursday Leftovers

Posted on November 21, 2024 by admin

Sure enough, a dusting of snow stuck overnight. It won’t last, but what does?

Regards for Thanksgiving. Back to posting around December 1, which can claim to be the start of winter, in as much as a single day can.

The figgy pudding Yuriko made on Sunday. Much of it is gone now, but Ann will be able to sample it when she’s back for the holiday. Bet she’ll be glad for the opportunity.

A stone at Graceland Cemetery last Sunday.

No name on it, except “Asano,” which I take to mean this is a work of Hiroyuki Asano, not a stone memorializing him, since he seems to still be alive. Maybe he’s planning ahead for his presence in Graceland, which I believe in the undertaker biz would count as “preneed.” (Pre-need?)

Or it could be a memorial for someone who didn’t want their name on it. That’s unusual, but not unknown: Erma Bombeck’s boulder in Dayton comes to mind. Or, the person who commissioned Asano’s piece at Graceland is also still alive, details to be added later.

John Welborn Root, Chicago architect (d. 1891). Forgot to post him.

In my efforts to see stones for well-known people, I also almost forgot to take a look at more ordinary folk. Almost, but not quite.

FamilySearch tells me (footnote numbers removed; but there were eight of them for a single paragraph) about the 161 Depot Brigade. It also features the unit patch, which is to the right.

Secretary of War Newton Baker authorized Major General Samuel Sturgis to organize the 161 Depot Brigade, an element of the 87th Division (National Army). It was later detached and placed directly under Camp Pike, Arkansas, as an independent unit.

The brigade filled two purposes: one was to train replacements for the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF); the other was to act as a receiving unit for men sent to camps by local draft boards. During most of 1918, the brigade was commanded by Brigadier General Frederick B. Shaw.

A different sort of memorial, in a different place – a nearby park that we visit often. We’d noticed Jake “The Snake” Popp’s bench before. Looks like people who remember The Snake fondly decorated his bench for the fall.

In the same park, a lamppost, ready to do its job.

On the post, a sign says it is a product of Traditional Concrete Inc., of Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin. Guess that name stresses the long-lasting — and traditional — material that goes into the company’s product, which is fine. But if I started a lamppost company, it would be Fiat Lux Inc.

Walton Island Park, Elgin

Posted on November 5, 2024 by admin

During a cloudy but not rainy period early this afternoon — heavy rain came later — I wandered over to the polling place at the school where Lilly and Ann both spent their elementary school years and voted there. I’d considered voting early at a different location, but when I stopped by about a week ago, the line was long. So Election Day voting it is, once again. My 12th presidential election.

Assuming he voted in all of them, how many for Jimmy Carter, our centenarian president? Assuming also that he voted absentee when necessary, especially during his time in the Navy. He turned 21 on October 1, 1945, but there’s a twist: Georgia lowered its voting age to 18 in 1943, thus enfranchising the young Carter for the 1944 election.

That would be 21 presidential elections, 1944 to 2024, inclusive. Not many people get to vote in many more than that.

After visiting the Gail Borden Library in Elgin a week ago Sunday, we walked over to the banks of the Fox River, which isn’t far.

Facing the river, specifically the Kimball Street and Dam, are pioneers in bronze.

There are enough of these kinds of statues that they represent a memorial genre, I think: Doughty Pioneers. Other recent examples (for me) include Nacogdoches and Bandera, Texas, and there are ones closer to home. The Elgin pioneers, under the name “Pioneer Family Memorial” (2001), were created by Elgin artist Trygve A. Rovelstad, though cast posthumously, since he died in 1990.

He also designed the Elgin Centennial half dollar, a numismatic curiosity from 1936. It was sold to help fund Rovelstad’s pioneer memorial in Elgin, but it clearly wasn’t enough, since the thing wasn’t finished for 65 years.

A lot of commemorates were minted in 1936, such as for the Texas Centennial, Daniel Boone Bicentennial, Arkansas Centennial, Wisconsin Territorial Centennial, Long Island Tercentenary (which sounds like the 300th anniversary of it becoming an island), and coins honoring such places as Elgin, but also Cleveland, Columbia, SC, Lynchburg, Va., and York County, Maine, among others.

The Oregon Trail Memorial, Cincinnati Musical Center and the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge got halves that year, too. Whoever successfully lobbied an important Congressman for one, got one, sounds like.

The bronze pioneers are near Walton Island Park, a man-made feature in the Fox River accessible by footbridge from the east bank. Like the Elgin half dollar, it too dates from the 1930s, when the local chapter of the Izaak Walton League – an organization named for the Compleat Angler fellow that’s still around – led the effort to enlarge a mud bank in the river by dredging the bottom and using the fill.

A flag sculpture is at the north tip of the island.

Dedicated on Flag Day, 2002. With one of the busier dedication plaques I’ve seen (but not as busy as the Norwegians in America).

The rest of the park is mostly a short stroll.

With good views of either side of the Fox. Such as the west bank.

A windmill. We didn’t go over to look at it, but I looked into it later. I’ve driven the nearby road (Illinois 31) any number of times, and must have seen it, but I guess it didn’t register. When I saw it from Walton Island, I thought I was seeing it for the first time.

For some extra drama, a freight train rolled by.

“A recent multi-year project for the Elgin Area Historical Society involved relocating and restoring a long-forgotten urban windmill built in 1922 by the Elgin Wind, Power and Pump Co.,” explains the Elgin History Museum.

“On September 7, 2013 the windmill was fully restored and now stands proudly at the site of its creation in Foundry Park off Route 31 in Elgin. The park was once the site of the Elgin Windmill Company, where the windmill was originally built.”

Lords Park in Fall

Posted on November 4, 2024 by admin

As usual in early November, we’re alternating between chilly and not chilly. Daytime today was surprisingly not chilly, which inspired me to drink tea on our deck in early afternoon and ponder the late autumn-ness of the view. Many, but not all, of the leaves are down, thinning from peak coloration – about a week ago.

That bit of timing, and warmish days, inspired us to take some walks last weekend. Before we saw the Community Ofrenda at the Gail Borden Library on the last Sunday of October, we were in Lords Park in Elgin. Last time we were there, the park was flush with the greens of high summer.

Not this time.

The park has a small zoo. Last time we didn’t enter because no dogs allowed, and Payton was with us. This time it was closed for the season.

No animals to be seen, except for a buffalo at the other end of the enclosure.

Still waiting for his transport to Mobile, Alabama, where he winters. Big snowbird bison community there.

Aside:

Me: Tell me about the snowbird bison community in Mobile, Alabama.

Free version of ChatGPT: It seems there might be some confusion or a mix-up regarding the “Snowbird Bison Community” in Mobile, Alabama. As of my last update, there is no widely known or documented community by that specific name in Mobile or elsewhere. However, I can provide some possible explanations or nearby references that could be of interest.

Bison and Conservation Efforts in Alabama: While there isn’t a specific “Snowbird Bison Community,” Alabama does have conservation programs and initiatives that aim to reintroduce or protect native wildlife, including bison. Historically, bison roamed the area, but due to overhunting and habitat destruction, they were driven out of much of their former range. Some conservation projects in Alabama or nearby regions might involve bison as part of larger ecosystem restoration efforts.
Snowbirds: In a different context, the term “snowbird” often refers to people who migrate from northern states to warmer climates (like Alabama) during the colder months. It’s possible that “Snowbird Bison Community” is a colloquial or niche term for a group of people who gather in Alabama, potentially around activities like wildlife conservation or bison-related tourism.
Mobile, Alabama: Mobile is a port city on the Gulf Coast, known for its rich history and diverse culture, but it isn’t particularly known for any bison-specific community. However, Mobile could host various wildlife sanctuaries, events, or activities related to animal conservation, and a local “bison community” might be a reference to any such initiatives.

Getting better, it seems. Honestly, I was hoping for a crazy hallucination, but that’s probably harder to elicit that it used to be.

Since we couldn’t go into the zoo, we walked the path around it, which is probably more picturesque than inside the grounds, at least at that moment in October.

Then to the park’s large pond. We walked around that.

A plaque on a boulder.

Closeup because I don’t feel like transcribing. Been affixed for more than 100 years now. Note that the apostrophe has disappeared. It isn’t used on official web sites, nor Google Maps: Lords Park. Must have been the long-term impact of apostrophe rationing again.

Another aside:

Me: Tell me about the plaque in Lords Park, Elgin Illinois.

ChatGPT: The plaque in Lords Park in Elgin, Illinois, commemorates the First Presbyterian Church’s Cemetery (also known as the Lords Park Cemetery), which is located within the park. The plaque honors the historical significance of the site, which has been a key part of the Elgin community since its early settlement.

Lords Park itself is one of the oldest parks in Elgin, and its cemetery was originally established in the mid-19th century, likely around 1845. The plaque likely marks the location or provides historical context about the cemetery and the people buried there, many of whom were early settlers and important figures in the founding of the city. The cemetery and park are connected through their shared history, with the area having served as a site for both religious and community gatherings.

As of my knowledge cutoff, there isn’t a specific detailed plaque inscription that I can point to, but the general historical context ties the park, the cemetery, and the early days of Elgin’s development together. The cemetery’s location within Lords Park places it in the middle of a public space that has been used for recreation and community events over the years, which adds to the significance of the plaque as part of the area’s history.

Ah, that’s the kind of hallucinatory answer I was looking for, though I didn’t give it much to work with in the way of prompts. Or at least it’s a mangled answer, according to the half hour or so I spent looking into the question. I could be missing something, since I’m not going to dive too deep.

But as far as I can tell, Lords Park wasn’t the site of a cemetery. A early public cemetery in Elgin – opened in 1845, as it happens – was the Channing Street Cemetery. It is gone, its location occupied by a small city park and elementary school. More importantly, it wasn’t the same site as the future Lords Park. Also, while there is a First Presbyterian Church of Elgin, it is not near Lords Park, either, and doesn’t ever seem to have been.

“Channing Street Cemetery was officially closed in 1945 and removal of the remains was thought complete in 1947,” notes the Elgin Genealogical Society. “In 1949 four acres in the southeast section were leveled in anticipation of park construction. It has been said that the many bodies left were to be moved by bulldozers. Some Elgin residents who lived in the neighborhood as children can remember the bulldozers breaking up old coffins and scattering the remains.”

Unless that was kids making up lurid stories, it looks like one of those cases where bodies were supposed to be moved elsewhere, but oops. We missed a few. An interesting tale, but nothing to do with Lords Park.

Sarnia to Tobermory

Posted on October 14, 2024 by admin

Fairly early on the morning of October 8, this sign got my attention.

It’s hard to know whether that’s a gracious gesture on the part of the City of Sarnia, Ontario, or a mild example of Northern nanny state-ism — the difference between you’re welcome to scatter here vs. you can only scatter in permitted places. But it was also good to know that we had the option, if we happened to have any ashes with us.

For all I know, people are scattered here often, and it certainty would be harmless compared to a lot of chemicals that have gone into the St. Clair River around Sarnia over the years. After all, this the home of the Sarnia Blob, an example of industrial pollution so epic that it has its own name.

That morning, after a modest breakfast and checking out of our room only a few blocks away, we went to take a look at Point Lands, a Sarnia municipal park on the St. Clair. Beyond the cremation sign is a view of Port Huron, Michigan, U.S. industrial twin of the Canadian industrial town of Sarnia.

Almost 40 years ago, Dow Chemical managed to spill over 2,900 gallons of perchlorethylene, a dry-cleaning solvent, with more than 520 gallons of that oozing into the St. Clair. That combined with God knows what else to form a massive a tar blob. The river at this point is home to much of Canada’s chemical and petrochemical industry, and let’s say the attitude about chemicals in the water in most decades of the 20th century was a mite lax.

The dark mass settled, submerged on the riverbed. Before long it was found by divers, and eventually its high toxicity became a major environmental news story. Something like the burning of the Cuyahoga River, though with Canadian reserve compared to the brashness of the American fire. They say since then the St. Clair, like the Cuyahoga, has been remediated, but I’m not taking a dip.

If word of the chemical waste blob got to me in far-off Nashville in 1985, I’ve long forgotten. Later Dow Chemical bugged out of Sarna, but not before commissioning a model of the Great Lakes in concrete in this park.

Including a model of Niagara Falls.

Up the coast from Sarnia, we bought gasoline from the Kettle & Stony Point Gas & Convenience, which I assume is owned and operated by members of the Kettle & Stony Point First Nation. It was a full-service gas station, with a fellow asking how much I wanted and then pumping it in (fill ‘er up). I couldn’t tell you the last time I ran across that, but it’s been decades. Also, its prices were about 10 cents a liter cheaper than other stations around there, making for an all-around good retail experience.

Near the station, the tribal water tower.

At this point we were traveling on highway King’s Highway 21 (Ontario 21, as far as I’m concerned), a two-lane blacktop that mostly follows the Lake Huron shore. On that shore is Pinery Provincial Park, a 6,260-acre stretch of beach and oak savanna. For us, it meant easy hiking in the forest and walking on the beach, so we spent a few hours there.

That kind of exercise inspired a quest for a latish lunch, which we found at the Out of the Blue Seafood Market in the town of Bayfield, feasting on Lake Huron whitefish fish & chips in the nondescript shop. The road food ideal: delicious, local, inexpensive and found completely by chance.

Ontario 21 was often a pleasant drive, though passing through well-populated areas meant slow going sometimes. The road wasn’t exactly crowded, but busy enough to be a little tiring. Only a little. Mostly we crossed farmland. Grain fields, the likes of barley, sorghum and oats, I understand, eventually gave way to cattle fields and woods and wetlands.

The wind had kicked into high gear by later in the afternoon, when we got to Kincardine. Formerly illuminating the harbor is a lighthouse, a late 19th-century creation.

Another story I learned, facing the lake at Kincardine: one about a Canadian member of the First Special Service Force.

Later, we connected with Ontario 6, which is quite the road, and took it north on the Bruce Peninsula proper to Tobermony. Settlement got sparser and sparser the further north we went.

The northern section of Ontario 6 is connected to the southern section by a large ferry docking at Tobermory; we saw it loading the next morning, which naturally led to musings. On to Manitoulin Island? Up from there to connect on the mainland with the Trans-Canada Highway into Sault St. Marie?

Not this time. But you know how it goes: distant roads are calling me. Except that they’re not actually that distant.

The International Test Rose Garden

Posted on September 30, 2024 by admin

I was expecting to see roses at the International Test Rose Garden in Washington Park in Portland. I wasn’t expecting a bronze Royal Rosarian.

Mainly because I’d never heard of the Royal Rosarians. Reading a bit about them – including on a plaque near the statue – I found that they’re one of those local civic organizations composed of prominent businessmen who dress up for events. Something like the Texas Cavaliers in San Antonio, whose head cheese King Antonio passed out aluminum tokens each year to schoolchildren once upon a time, including me.

“The Royal Rosarians are the official greeters and goodwill Ambassadors for the City of Portland promoting the best interests of the City of Portland and the Portland Rose Festival,” the org’s web site says.

“Royal Rosarians welcome visiting dignitaries from around the world, host hundreds of out-of-town visitors, march in parades throughout the region, and perform ceremonial rose plantings in honor of worthy individuals both in Portland and during Rosarian ambassadorial trips to distant cities throughout the world. Organized in 1912, the Royal Rosarians are a non-profit, civic organization.”

In hilly Washington Park, which occupies more than 450 acres, the seven-acre International Test Rose Garden is directly downhill from the Portland Japanese Garden and, unlike that garden, free to visit. Some 10,000+ rose bushes grow there, representing 650+ varieties. If I hadn’t visited the Tyler Rose Garden earlier this year, I would have been flabbergasted by the profusion. Still, the garden is impressive.

The fact that it is a test garden means that rose growers far and wide send their cultivars for evaluation.

“Test beds are planted with new varieties evaluated on several characteristics, including disease resistance, bloom form, color and fragrance,” says the Spokesman-Review. “ A Gold Medal Garden features previous years’ best selections, and the Shakespeare Garden features roses named after characters in the bard’s works.”

The idea of a test garden in Portland goes back to World War I, when it was seen as a way to preserve cultivars that might otherwise be lost because of the fighting. Portland was already known for its roses by the early 20th century, as illustrated in this article in Oregon Live.

The thing to do at the International Test Garden is wander around, taking in the varieties.

Or –

Create rose-themed art.

Portland Japanese Garden

Posted on September 29, 2024 by admin

The other day I found a web site that promised to provide captions for photos. A very specific set of photos. It said:

Looking for the perfect captions for your photos of Japanese gardens? A well-crafted caption can help increase engagement on your Instagram posts and capture the serene beauty of these stunning landscapes.

We understand that coming up with the right words can be challenging, but don’t worry! We’ve got you covered with a wide variety of caption templates for Japanese garden photos.

Looks like what they’re selling is an AI service that will spit out captions for your pictures. Any kind of pictures. Japanese gardens is just one example. The site had a few captions for Instagram posted images on hand, pre-written, you might say. Such as:

Serenity in every step.

Restoring my inner balance amidst the lush greens.

In awe of the perfect blend of nature and art.

Awfully high-minded sentiments there. I enjoyed our visit to Portland Japanese Garden a lot, Yuriko even more, praising its authentic details and feeling.

But serenity in every step overstates things, and not just because I’d been warned about the possibility of wanker criminals smashing one of my car windows on the Washington Park road where we parked it, a problem we did not need 2,000 miles from home.

In the end, nothing happened, and I managed to keep the idea at the back of my mind most of the time during the visit, so I had serenity in a few steps. Every step is to expect too much, even in a perfectly carefree mood. Curiosity was in other steps, and also admiration, wonder, and oops, don’t want to trip. An entirely normal mix of feelings during a visit to a place with a such special resonance.

Water features.

Paths to follow. Or not. But we did.

Walled in are kare-sansui, and I won’t pretend I didn’t have to look that up. A Zen garden, in other words. Two of them, actually. One called the Sand and Stone Garden.

The other, larger, is adjacent to the Pavilion Gallery. The Flat Garden, it’s called.

I don’t know about restoring my “inner” balance. As I get older, I’m glad to still have the regular old sense of balance. As for the “perfect balance of nature and art,” that’s an advertising-quality meaningless statement. Bravo, AI.

Riverfront Park, Spokane

Posted on September 23, 2024 by admin

Until we took a stroll through Riverfront Park in Spokane, I’d forgotten about Expo ’74. Turns out the park is a legacy of that world’s fair.

I’ve enjoyed visiting world’s fair legacies over the years, beginning with the many times I visited Hemisfair Plaza in San Antonio, but also the Expo ’70 Commemorative Park in Osaka, the Biosphere in Montreal, the Unisphere in New York, the Space Needle in Seattle, the Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco, Forest Park in St. Louis, the Parthenon in Nashville, the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, and even the Eiffel Tower, if you want to go back that far. If the Crystal Palace had been still standing, I’d have gone to see that.

I’m sure I heard about Expo ’74 at the time, but it was in distant Spokane, which I’d only ever seen on maps. With no likelihood of a visit, I probably didn’t give it much thought at 13. Or afterward. Not until 50 years after the event, on August 25, 2024, when we decided to spend a few hours in downtown Spokane before heading to Seattle.

A river runs through it. Namely, the Spokane River, which is a tributary of the mighty Columbia. (Every time I write about that river, I will use “mighty” just as “stately” always comes before Wayne Manor.) The Spokane roars around an island, formerly known as Canada Island, and still called that according to Google Maps, dividing the upper falls.

In 2017, the Spokane Parks Board decided that “snxw meneɂ” (sin-HOO-men-huh), a Salish word, would be a more fitting name. Salmon People, to render it in English. Once upon a time, the Salish caught salmon there.

The river travels over a small dam, then to the lower falls.

Back in the late 19th century, the area was industrial.

The location wasn’t quite as valuable for industry by the 1960s, so it was picked as the site for the world’s fair, whose formal name was the International Exposition on the Environment, Spokane 1974. Some 5.6 million people showed up for it, compared with 6.3 million for HemisFair in 1968 (and I was among those).

The legacy park.

A pleasant place to stroll on a summer Sunday. Lots to see, such as site of the former U.S. Pavilion.

The handsome Washington Water Power Co. building, dating from 1907. Not actually in the park, but highly visible from the park.

A reminder of long-ago native inhabitants of the area.

For even better views of the river, there’s a sky ride. Its course parallels the river near the lower falls, and then turns around and comes right back, taking 20 or so minutes.

We took a ride. Of course we did. That’s how I was able to take photos of the lower falls, posted above.

South Dakota Dash ’24

Posted on September 13, 2024 by admin

The first day of the trip was a slog from Illinois through Wisconsin and most of southern Minnesota. The second day, August 19, we woke up in Luverne, Minnesota and went to bed in Sundance, Wyoming. Less of a slog, mainly because we stopped a few places in South Dakota along I-90.

First of all, Sioux Falls. How can you stop in Sioux Falls and not see the falls?

Hard to believe, if you crop things right, you’re in a city of around 200,000. Sioux quartzite, it’s called.

Once a hub of water-power industries — the ruins of a mill are on the grounds — these days the falls travel through the municipal Falls Park. Sioux Falls has thoughtfully erected an observation tower on top of a rise in the park, for better views.

Naturally, we went to the top, for the view of the falls, downtown Sioux Falls, and – off in a different direction – a major Smithfield meat processing plant. Sioux Falls isn’t just about credit card HQs, the result of a race-to-the-bottom concerning usury laws. It still has industry, too.

Before leaving town, we sought out the Cathedral of St. Joseph, a work by Emmanuel Louis Masqueray (d. 1917), another of those famed architects mostly lost to time. Among other things, he was chief of design at the 1904 St. Louis world’s fair (one of the four fonts of the modern world).

It was open. Not all city churches can say that on a Monday.

Nice. Westward on I-90, at one of the rest stops, we found a much smaller religious structure, though elegant in its simplicity.

It too was open.

Lunch that day was in the burg of Kennebec, SD (pop. 281), which happened to have a place, Benji’s Diner, with a distinctive ag-town vibe, and serious meat on the menu.

It’s a little hard to tell, but there’s beef under that sea of gravy, and I found it mighty filling. Signs on the highway promote the SD beef industry and beef eating on principle, and they get no argument from me.

We took a look around town. When I saw this, I concluded that every town, no matter how small, has one of these murals as a little expression of civic pride. Seems that way, anyway.

Kennebec is the Lyman County seat.

The built environment isn’t just buildings.

Despite our large lunch, we managed to stay awake for the drive to Wall, SD, stopping for a few minutes at Wall Drug and then Badlands National Park, where we spent a few hours. That decision factored heavily into what happened next in Wyoming, more about which later. Enough to say that by the end of the day, we were in Sundance, Wyo.

But we weren’t done with South Dakota. For reasons I won’t bore anyone with, especially myself, we had to backtrack the next day to take care of a minor issue with the car, so it wouldn’t be major later on. For that, we went to Rapid City, which we had bypassed the day before. I’m glad we got to go, because the mechanical issue didn’t actually take long to deal with, which left us with time to see a bronze James K. Polk.

Plus U.S. Grant, Franklin Roosevelt, and Calvin Coolidge, among other U.S. presidents at street corners in downtown Rapid City that I managed to see.

“When a local man noticed people interacting with a temporarily placed statue of President Lincoln outside the Hotel Alex Johnson [in downtown Rapid City], an idea sparked. This man was Don Perdue, and he came up with the idea to put a president on every corner in Downtown Rapid City,” explains Visit Rapid City.

“It took a lot of convincing, a lot of fundraising, and hours of research before it started. In 1999, Perdue proposed the idea to the city as a way to honor the legacy of the American Presidency. The project was approved and in 2000 the first four presidents were unveiled: George Washington, John Adams, Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush… Over the next ten years, a group of local artists worked to create and place all 40 of the remaining statues.”

I didn’t have time to see all of them. Or the inclination. It was in the low 90s F. that day, so I only wanted to spend a few minutes seeking them out, while Yuriko more rationally waited in our air conditioned car.

She was willing to get out and look at Rapid City’s older attraction a few minutes later, however: Dinosaur Park. I later checked with my brother Jim. He said he does indeed remember, a little, our family’s visit to the park in 1960, before I was born.

There’s a good view of Rapid City from atop the park’s hill.

But you’re up there to look at wire-mesh-frame dinosaurs with concrete skins, originally dating from the 1930s but obviously maintained into our time and (maybe?) tinkered with a little to more closely match current thinking about dinosaurs.

Even better, I learned that the park was originally a WPA project, consciously designed to draw tourists to Rapid City with something distinctive. Of all the various WPA projects one can encounter, this has to be unique among the lot.

Bloomington Ramble ’24

Posted on July 29, 2024 by admin

Want good soft serve ice cream in an unpretentious setting? Look no further than Carl’s Ice Cream, a plain-looking shop deep in the heart of Bloomington, Illinois. Also, look for its anthropomorphic soft serve cone rising over the parking lot.

Yuriko and Ann had strawberry, I had chocolate. Carl’s in Bloomington – there’s also one in Normal, with an ice cream muffler man outside – was an early afternoon stop on Saturday. We spent part, but not all of the weekend, in Bloomington.

Something we (I) also had time to do was take a better look at the impressive three-legged communications tower in downtown Bloomington. It’s visible for quite a distance, and makes me wonder, why aren’t more communication towers this interesting?

Much of the day was hot, or at least very warm, and sunny, a prelude to heavy rains early Sunday morning. So Yuriko was content to stay in the car – with the AC running – when I took in a few closer views of tower.

Pantagraph articles about the tower are paywalled, but snippets poke through from search engine results:

In the last 30 years of telephone, radio and other network service, the Tower Center became a sort of landmark for downtown Bloomington, lovingly nicknamed the city’s “Eiffel Tower.”

Bloomington’s ‘Eiffel Tower’ changes hands after 30 years

The McLean County Center for Human Services Recovery Program is gaining a new home beneath the iconic 420-foot communications tower in Bloomington…

Another source tells me that the tower dates from 1989. The Tower Center is the two-story building under the tower, now belonging to McLean County.

After the rain cleared away, late Sunday morning was as toasty as Saturday had been, but more humid. I decided against a walkabout at the Park Hill Cemetery in Bloomington. It’s good to ration your time under those hot and copper skies.

Still, we drove around a bit through the cemetery. Not a lot of memorial variety, but not bad.

Now I can say I’ve seen Mike Ehrmantraut’s grave. But not that Mike Ehrmantraut, of course. The fellow offed by Walter White, being fictional, must have an equally fictional grave.

Adjacent the cemetery is the sizable Miller Park, which includes the Miller Park Zoo. We didn’t want to use our ration of intense sunlight at a zoo either, but in the park itself.

When you see a steam locomotive in park (and its tender), you really ought to get out and look.

Three million miles. So the train could have, with the right track, gone to the Moon and back a number of times, provided it took its own oxygen to keep that engine going.

And what would the display be without a caboose? Partly because that’s just a fun word to say.

Ignorant fellow that I am, I didn’t know the Nickel Plate Road, so I looked it up later. Once upon a time, it was a major regional RR, spanning northern Ohio, Indiana and Illinois.

Miller Park features a sizable war memorial.

In its vicinity are some retired weapons of war, such as a captured German 210 mm Krupp Howitzer (in better shape than this one).

As well as a WWI tank. Created for that conflict, at least. An M1917 light tank. Apparently none made it to the front during the war, but were put in service for a few years after the war by the U.S. Army.

I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one of those on display. I’m reminded of my great-uncle Ralph. I understand — from my mother, and maybe even grandma told me this — that he was in a tank corps in France, with the American Expeditionary Forces. Such a posting is said to be fairly dangerous, and I believe it. Supposedly, Ralph was poised to go to the front at the time of the Armistice, which might well have saved him.

Volkening Lake Summer Flora

Posted on July 24, 2024 by admin

In summer, the north rim of Volkening Lake is all a-bloom.

Contrast to December, when the color was provided by electric lights.

Other parts of the park sport various flowers of various hues as well.

The lake is really more of a pond, and according to the Schaumburg Park District, the area is called the Fred W. Volkening Recreation Area. But all I’ve ever heard is Volkening Lake.

Fred Volkening was a Schaumburg old-timer (d. 1993) who used to farm the surrounding land. I’m glad the lake and rec area has his name, rather than that of an otherwise forgettable park district functionary. Still, a park by an other name would bloom as lush, I figure.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Category Archives: Parks