Driftless Mailman: Mailman tales, #2

By Jess Thornton

Jess Thornton is a mailman who long ago transferred from the big city rat race to the wonderful, small city of Kachuda, Wisconsin.
These are the tales of his transition, as was the previous volume "Mailman Tales"; but it is also about his childhood, his upbringing and relations that all helped to bring him to the idyllic Driftless area!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jess Thornton
• Release date: Mar 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386726180

Jess Thornton

Jess Eden Thornton is the author of several books on family, the post office past and present, and Americana.  His writings espouse traditional family values, while displaying the underlying humor in the family, neighborhood, and of working life. He also has written a few fantasy stories, one in collaboration with Robert E. Howard, the inventor of Conan. He resides in the driftless region of Wisconsin, deep in an isolated coulee.

Book preview

Also by Jess Thornton

Afterlife series

Driftless Afterlife

Atlas of Atlantis

Atlantean

Conan Returns

King Conan and the Stygian Queen- Beyond the Black River

Cycladian Tales

Gods Beneath the Earth

Jess Thornton Detective

The Witch of Grandad Bluff

The Queen and the King

The Portrait

Tomb of the Viking

The Witch of Grandad Bluff and Others

Mailman tales

Driftless Mailman

Milky and Soupy

Mailman Tales- a Memoir

Mailman Tales

Mailman Tales

People of Light

The People of Light

Standalone

Soupy’s Joke Book

Watch for more at Jess Thornton’s site.

Driftless Mailman

Mailman Tales 2

Jess Thornton

Moos Publishing

Contents

Young Jess

Kachuda Downtown North

Memories of a Driftless Mailman

Charitable Endeavors

The Mailman Breakfast

Later Mailman Days

Afterword

Young Jess

N ow Jess, you be sure to be a big boy and take care of your little brother Jordie! admonished my mother.

I nodded my head, and put my arm around my young charge. Although I was only 6, and he was only 5 I would have to be the responsible one. I knew it would not be hard, Jordie was quite quiet, even as a youngster, and at that age he listened to my instructions, and followed along with my orders.

My young father, Big Band Bob as he was called by almost everybody because of his long time career in the big swing bands of the 1940’s and 50’s, reached back and ruffled Jordie’s white blonde hair, and smiled at us both. Then, leaving the car, he got out the driver’s side of the big sedan, and went out to greet his sister and her husband Ben.

They talked together happily as Jordan and I also left the car to stretch our little legs. My aunt Emma and uncle Ben lived in a small town, deep in the rural driftless area of southwestern Wisconsin, and even at that early age I marveled at the difference between their beautiful region of the world, with its rugged bluffs and endless trees and hills, and our own flat part of Illinois.

I enjoyed my childhood immensely, and so did my brother, living in a really nice suburban home with a large (for Chicagoland) yard. We had loads of little friends we played with, and soon were to be joined by six more brothers…

And each has a sister! my father would frequently say, in his singing and playing act in the band. What the truth to the joke was to those in the know, was that out of all seven of us boys, there was only one girl, my sister Ann! Hard, I’m sure, were her trials over the years as she endured our endless rough-housing and teasing!

But at this point, it was just Jordie and me, being left to visit with our beloved aunt and uncle in the little town of Algoma. It would be an adventure to be repeated several times in your youth: a gift to my parents to allow them to spend some time together on a vacation while we were free to explore this new territory of small town Wisconsin. We spent a couple of weeks, every year in the summers, just roaming through the old, red brick lined main street, down to the small Imala river that ran right through their back yard, and through the endless fields and woods that surrounded Algoma on all sides. We loved it!

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Iam sure that this phase of my life was very important, although I was not to know it for many years. It always lived in my minds eye as a glowing vision; an alternative to the big city streets and asphalt. And, as I aged, it also appeared mirage-like as I saw the big city of Chicago gradually go downhill, becoming overrun with crime and corruption, as eventually do all huge megalopolises! From Rome to the present, and I’m sure back as far as Sumeria- when governments become too big and centralized, and the populace starts to expect to be supported by that government at the expense of taxpayers, the whole structure starts to weaken and topple.

At any rate, at this point, Chicago was doing just fine, but in my child’s mind opinion, this driftless zone had it even better!

One summer, as a special treat to us, aunt Emma and uncle Ben took us on a drive of about an hour to the Wisconsin Dells! In those days, it was not the huge tourist venue it is today, with endless waterslides, roller coasters, amphibious ducks that took you out onto Lake Delton, and everything else that draws tourists from far and wide.

They had a Fairyland, featuring cement renditions of famous fairy tales that you could tour, like Tom Thumb and Cinderella. We also visited a petting zoo, with all kinds of animals, including deer! Jordan and I also had great fun a the beach there, along the lake, which had a long metal playground slide about three times as high as a standard playground slide, and that shot your out at great speed (thanks to your wet bathing suit), right into the lake! We never wanted to leave that day.

But, eventually, leave we did, since uncle Ben had to open his shop in Algoma for the next business day. Jordie and I were too excited to sleep, and just kept playing catch with a large beach ball we had in the back seat of the big, red station wagon we were riding back in. Aunt and uncle were in the front seat, uncle Ben driving, and we were way in the back of the station wagon. All of the windows were down, as it was a hot day, perfect for swimming, and of course we boys could roll around in the back, this being the days before seat belts.

Uncle Ben was a large, taciturn man, who was not given to loud talking, or even talking overmuch in general. I even asked aunt Emma once why he never laughed, just calmly smiled. Aunt Emma laughed long and loudly at this, and even started teasing uncle with it, be he just looked at her calmly, characteristically, and smiled. He never got angry that I had ever seen, and just generally seemed to be a take-charge, reliable and comforting presence.

I took the beach ball at one point, and threw it (of course!), right at my brother’s head. He ducked, and the ball traveled up out of the back of the car, over into the back seat, and then, being caught up by a gust of wind from the open windows, it sailed up right behind uncle Ben’s head.

The ball was too large to fly out the window, and so it just bounced off the windows, and then began to hit uncle’s head from the back. The wind gusts were such that it would bounce off of the back seat, and then again into his head, over and over and over! Jordie and I were fascinated by the sheer amazing fact that the wind was doing this endlessly, and, it seemed, faster and faster…bang bang bang!

Finally, even calm uncle Ben had had enough. I am certain that he thought we were sitting in the back seat, and relentlessly pelting him over and over with that beach ball!

He turned suddenly, looking back over his shoulder with the only time I ever witnessed him with an angry expression on his face. Then, seeing us small boys way in the very back of the large station wagon, far from where we could have been hitting him with anything, he suddenly got it…

And he laughed!

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L et’s go to Wolf Acre! said little Jordie to me!

Jordie was my little brother, and he was a whole year younger than me, so that made me (I was convinced) the boss. I looked paternally at his little, crewcut blonde head, and thought I’d humor the little fellow, especially since I wanted to go too!

Here we were, visiting aunt and uncle Wolf, all by ourselves. We were big boys now, especially me, since I was already in first grade back in Illinois!

After telling aunt Emma where we were going, we were out the door. Since Algoma was such a small, safe little town, we were free to go where we wished. We took our usual path on that day, running out the front door of that little green house with the river in the back yard, and watching carefully at the train tracks that stood between us and the rest of town. There were only two trains per day, morning and night, and so there was no need of a crossing gate at all- everyone knew what time the train came; besides, it stopped to let off a passenger or two, and take some on…

After crossing the tracks, we walked on into the town itself. Algoma was an old, German settled Wisconsin town, with red brick buildings built in the late 1800’s. For a town of about 800 souls, it was completely self-sufficient, with a bakery, a meat market, a grocery, and several tavern/restaurant establishments.

Jordie and I walked the two and one-half blocks from our aunt and uncle’s house along main street, and then we reached our first goal: Algoma Drugs! Uncle Ben was standing, as usual as we could see through the big plate glass window, back behind his pharmacy counter, mixing up mysterious potions and elixirs. I opened the door, and Jordie followed me in as the tinkling of the bell announced our entrance.

Uncle Ben looked up from his mixology, and smiled. Hello boys! Are you looking for the girly-whirlies?

Uncle always said this, knowing that it was the most mortifying thing he could say to his young nephews. I announced that we were going to Wolf Acre, and he said that was fine, but watch out for the wild Indians! I assured him that we would, and after a quick look at the comic book rack, and a longing look at the soda fountain, we went back out the door, ringing again the little bell behind us.

For our little legs, the remaining several blocks seemed a long way, but also a real adventure! Never back at home would we have been allowed to walk by ourselves across town, never mind that we lived in a relatively safe suburban neighborhood. But here, we could go anywhere! We reveled in that.

At the very edge of town, we turned after the Lutheran church down a dead end road called, appropriately enough, Church street, and followed it to the end. Here, there was a hand-crafted wooden sign emblazoned with the legend Wolf Acres, which meant we had reached our destination.

It seems that, many years ago, aunt Emma and uncle Ben had bought these acres of land, with plans to someday build a house here. But, over the years, it seemed that they could never decide or agree upon just what type of house they should build! Aunt Emma kept maintaining that she wanted an A-frame design, back in the woods, but uncle Ben held out for a real log cabin! And so, it was a stalemate…

But for young Jess and little Jordie, it was like a paradise. There was a stream running through the property, and it was quite heavily wooded, with young pines that my