Walnut Street Hill

My mother used to say that Iowa had two seasons: Winter and August. And she disliked them both. But for a young boy like me I loved them. August meant freedom, no school, long days, play, play, and more play!

But the season I loved the most was winter. Winter in Iowa came early and stayed late most years, and that meant lots of snow on the ground and ice on the pond. Nothing could have been better than that.

We all waited patiently for the first snowfall of the winter. It didn’t take long. And finally Walnut Street hill was open for business. The city workers barricaded Walnut Street and all the side streets and lit the kerosene flares. We were in business once again. Out came the kids all bundled up in hooded parkas, snow boots and at least two pairs of mittens.

Walnut Street hill was just a block from our house and it took only a minute to get there. At first we would check the snow cover to make sure we had the fastest track, and cover our sled runners with wax to remove any rust. That would make the sled go faster. I would always slide the runners back and forth a couple of times and I was ready to go.

My first sled was a hand-me-down. It was old and small and not very fast. I asked Santa for a new sled for Christmas when I was about nine years old. Santa was kind. We were at my grandmother’s farm for Christmas. We had finished dinner, done the dishes, and were opening presents in the living room. I hadn’t seen a package that was big enough to be a sled and I was beginning to feel hopeless. My dad had excused himself to go to the bathroom (which meant going outside to the outhouse), and when he returned he was carrying a long package which he put down in front of me. I couldn’t open it fast enough.

It was a brand new Silver Streak sled. The best of the best! WOW!! I was ecstatic.

The next morning I tried to go sledding down the hill next to Gramma’s house but the snow was too deep. I would have to wait till we got back home and Walnut Street hill. I couldn’t get back home soon enough. I knew there were other kids on the hill without me. So, when we arrived at home and had finished dinner I bundled up and headed up to the hill.

Now there are several sledding techniques. The first is sitting on the sled and steering with your feet. The second is to lie down head forward on the sled give a little push and off you go. But the best technique was the belly flop. Now the belly flop required a lot of skill. You picked up the sled, held it tightly while running as fast as you could go, and then dive onto the sled at breakneck speed. It guaranteed a thrilling ride.

Now Walnut Street hill was two blocks long. But with a good start and by avoiding being ditched by another sledder you could easily go four blocks farther. But what that meant was that you had to carry your sled back to the top of the hill. With a dry mouth from the cold and wind there was always a temptation to lick the runner for some relief from the thirst. It was too much to resist no matter how many times you had done it. Your tongue would freeze to the runner. Oh stupid me, I would think, I did it again. Same result, a large layer of my tongue froze to the runner. Nothing hurt as much as that did.

Some time later the city fathers closed Walnut Street hill to sledders due to safety reasons. It just didn’t seem fair. But times had changed. No more sledders on Walnut Street hill. What a shame.

A Little Change In Your Pocket

My dad used to tell me that it’s always nice to have a little change in your pocket.

I never forgot what he said. Having a little change in your pocket is very nice, especially when you earn it yourself. So as a young boy I set out to do just that. In those days I had a lot of ways to make money. It didn’t matter how much I made, it was pride that motivated me. If I made a quarter or a dime I put a little in my pocket and the rest in my Schmoo bank.

My first job was mowing the neighbor’s lawn with my sister, Barbara. We did it with a push reel mower. No motor. The grass was long and the mower was dull. It was a hot and humid day and it took both of us to push the mower. My mother watched us to be sure we were getting the job done, which we did. I don’t remember how much money we made, but I do know that we were proud of what we accomplished.

In the winter I shoveled snow off our sidewalks. I also had several regular jobs with neighbors. I got paid for the neighbors’ jobs, but not for our own where I also shoveled the driveway. My dad usually helped on the driveway.

When I was ten I sold the Sunday morning Des Moines Register on the street corner in downtown Cedar Falls. After that I got my own paper route with the Cedar Falls Record which I did for a year. I made four dollars a week, most of which I saved. But I always kept a little in my pocket to buy a malted milk or a Clark Bar candy bar at the Caramel Corn shop.

When I was in junior high school I worked as a dishwasher for two weeks in the Campbell Hall cafeteria on the university campus. That was my first hourly job. For two weeks of hard work I made about thirty dollars. That was big money!

During my high school years I spent the summers detasseling corn and bailing hay. I enjoyed being outdoors and I loved the farm atmosphere. The food was good also. I also worked in a supermarket, a warehouse, a factory, and doing road construction.

When I was in college I usually was able to find a summer job, unless I was taking summer classes. I was able to get a job working buildings and grounds on the university campus. I also worked for the International Harvester truck division in Waterloo. The pay was real good, but I really didn’t like it very much. I was hoping to get some training and learn about the business, but it never really happened. I didn’t know what to do and they really didn’t know what to do with me.

In 1963 I applied for a summer job in the National Park Service and landed one at Lassen National Park in California. That was the best job I had in all that time, and it changed my life. I won’t go into detail right now on my experience at Lassen. I’ll leave that for another chapter in my blog.

I took a course in finance and investing during my senior year of college and it changed my way of looking at money. While I was still living at home with my parents, I started talking about money with my dad who had been a long-time investor. I graduated from college with a major in business. I had taken courses in accounting, management, advertising, marketing, and even a class in typing. But not one of them taught me as much as what I learned from my dad and a little bit of change in my pocket.

My very best friend Bill

This is for my grandson, Ethan, and anyone else who would like to join us.

My family moved into our home at 2500 Walnut Street in Cedar Falls, Iowa when I was three years old. It was a wonderful neighborhood with huge elm trees lining the street. A lot of that time I don't remember, but what I do remember was making friends with the boy across the street, Bill Dodd. Bill was a couple of years older than me, but he took me into his life like he was my older brother.

Now, when I think of those times I think of you and Nicolas, and what wonderfull friends you two are. I was lucky to have Bill as my best friend just like you are with Nicholas.

Bill and I did everything together. He taught me about baseball and football. We played catch for hours. We tent camped in his back yard, played with his electric train in his bedroom, and read lots of comic books.

We learned a big lesson when we nearly burned Dodd's garage down. Fortunately we were not hurt except for the spanking we got from Bill's dad. We were both very lucky.

Bill and I learned to ride a bicycle at about the same time. From that point on we went everywhere, or at least we thought we had.

We grew up together and our friendship grew as well. We did go in different directions from time to time, but we were always great friends.

I looked up to Bill and he watched out for me. We were both in the same college fraternity, we both became teachers, we each raised a son and a daughter.

We are still great friends eventhough we live far apart. I always call him on his birthday and he always calls me on mine.

When you have a great friendship it will be for as long as you live. I truly hope that you and Nicholas will be friends forever.

This is for Ethan from Grampa Fossum

My Grampa Fossum was born in 1862, and my Grampa Spickler was born in 1866. That was a long time ago. As it was I never knew either of them as they were both gone before I was born. I missed not knowing them and the times I could have spent with them.



I do have pictures of them both and I have heard the stories of their lives, but that just wasn't enough for me. I never got to sit on their knees to hear a bedtime story or a lullaby.



Now that I'm a grampa myself I want to make sure that you know me well. I have a lot of stories in my head that I hope will help you know me better. Although they won't be as good as the times we spend together, I hope you enjoy them as much as I will enjoy writing them for you. It should be a lot of fun for the two of us.