Life II

When we moved back to Wisconsin We lived in the upstairs apartment of Grandpa Mueller’s house in Hustisford. Probably still there on the corner of Main St and Hwy 60, or the old highway before it was moved further south, right next to a garage that used to be a movie theatre. Across from a large white house belonging to a Mrs ?Gladys Reynolds, ? sister or some other relative of Hazel, who taught Sunday school in the Presbyterian Church. I remember this house for a couple of reasons:
        1. I remember waving to my Dad in the back of the bus as it went through Hustisford on its way to Milwaukee with a load of fresh draftees in 1944.
        2. After Dad left we had some army uniforms with helmets and play rifles. One day we marched up the hill to the local grade and high school. I remember how all the older kids enjoyed our little game of playing soldiers. I am pretty sure even the principal, Mr Wiegand? came out and talked to us. We must have made quite a stir.

We went to the Presbyterian Church because my grandfather had been kicked out of the Lutheran Church and because they had a Sunday school there but not at the Lutheran Ch. Hmm. Odd, no SS.
Of course, the LC was the Wisconsin Synod, the most conservative of all of them. When I was studying Bible History in the 6th grade I am pretty sure that little blue book we read taught us that the earth was only 6000 or so years old. They ex-communicated my father, and I’m sure I would have been as well had I stayed around.

When my father came home from the War, probably in 1946, we moved into what we called the Bartsch building, right next to Lehman’s Tavern, and later that building was bought by Ozzie Lund, the other barber in town for many years. The only barber that I remember before Ozzie was Murphy Dornfeld, who had a shop next to the bank. I saw the 1950 World Series on TV in the barbershop. I also kept doubling my bets on the outcome of those games. I learned something about the nature of probability in that Series.

I think my father started playing baseball again in his 30s, having last played before the War. We kids were worried because we had no idea he was such a good hitter. I played at least one game in the Rock River League with him. I was in left field and he was in center field. I think it was Slinger that we played. I got a Texas Leaguer the first time I came to bat. The first baseman asked me how old I was and shook his head when I told him 15.

My first teacher, a Miss Garbisch, taught grades 0ne through Three for many years. Then 4th through 6th was a Mrs Randall, who I’m pretty sure I fell in love with in the 5th grade. She was probably in her 40s and good looking as I remember. 7th and 8th grade was taught by Mr Martin, a one-eyed guy who seemed fairly tough. He was the first intellectual I ever knew. They started on a new school, actually just additions to the old, of both the elementary and high school the year I was supposed to be in 8th grade so they moved us down to the City Hall, a drafty place we used to play basketball and plays and musicals were also put on in this place. I think I had only one other boy in the grade, a Michael Kintopp as I remember. About a week or two into the year, the teacher whose name I have forgotten, I can only remember that she had thick ankles, said that we had to go up to the principal’s office. I thought I was in big trouble as Mr Schlicht knew my father, in fact, they used to play cards together. But it turned out she wanted to kick me into the 9th grade. Which was fine as far as I was concerned because that is where most of my friends were.


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