Monday, May 20, 2019

Calhoun county 190520

      I was a young boy when I/we went to Calhoun county, Illinois. I remember we used to cross the Missouri river on the Golden Eagle ferry to the town of Golden Eagle, Illinois. Apparently the town is still there and so is the ferry, seen below.



      My uncle Tom and aunt Irene rented a small weekend house there. She was born and raised in Calhoun country, while uncle Tom was born a city boy. He loved hunting and fishing and I suppose that is where he met Irene. She didn't like hunting, so they concentrated on fishing after they got together. Perhaps partly it was the fact that uncle Tom was hunting in Calhoun once and ended up getting wounded in a gun battle when he was squirrel hunting there. The battle ended when everyone ran out of shotgun shells. I am guessing that cooled his desire for hunting. Either way he quit hunting and went fishing with Irene.
      They had no luck conceiving their own child at that time, so they would stop and pick me up to go to Calhoun county on the weekends. I had a great time. Sometimes Mom and dad would go too. There were also times mom and dad would not go with us. There were times when Tom, Irene and I got there and were rained out. We didn't turn around and go home. We spent the weekend in the Crossroads Tavern. This was back in the fifties and in the middle of nowhere so it was not a problem having a young boy in there. Maybe it was good practice for when boys became men and would drink beer there. I looked, hoping to find a picture of the place, but no luck. If there's still a bar there it's likely a sports bar or something like that. I had a good time being around all those adults and listening to all the conversations.
      One thing I remember well was the jukebox. That thing blasted out country songs non-stop. One in particular was the song "Honeycomb."

      That song played as often as there were nickels for the jukebox. I still listen to it these days when I think about those days in the Crossroads tavern. I remember the first time I had to use the bathroom there. It was outfitted to look like an outhouse; I suppose many people living there in those days had outhouses. There were two doors one marked Pointer and the other marked Setter, named after hunting dogs of course, but the names fit the sexes too. I finished and went back to the bar and asked Irene about the names. She asked me which one I used? Me being young and uninformed, I said the Setter because I knew a Setter was a big dog. (I suppose I thought I was a big dog back then.) Irene laughed and then informed me which was which.
      I sure had a great life as a child.
      
      
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.

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