I was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, but high-tailed it out of the big city to small-town life just a few days later, landing in Delafield, Wisconsin, where I lived my first nine years. Like so many in the area, it was surrounded by lakes and farms, with a small "downtown" featuring a grocery store, drug store, a couple of gas stations, and several bars/bait shops. I liked growing up in Delafield, and desperately did not want to move away, but at 9, you just gotta go when your folks say you gotta go.
In the 40 years that have followed, Delafield has seen many changes, but maybe not quite as many as I might have feared. Many of the charming houses are still there; it is still small, still quiet, still pretty. The updating that has been done has been particularly good, with solid, traditional architecture that blends well with the older structures. We had a couple of hours to spend on our vacation here as we wished, so I thought I'd take MissEight to two of the places I hadn't seen since I moved away.
"City Hall?" she asked me. "Why are we going to City Hall?" Definitely a fair question. I knew something was there that would be nice to see. As we walked up, I noticed that the Old City Hall had been replaced with a very nice New City Hall, combined with the New Library that was once down a different street. Right in the main hallway separating the two entities, was the Gallery of Mayors. And there, at the top and in the middle, my dad, MissEight's grandfather, who was A Mayor of Delafield in the '60s. He died in 1993, nine years before MissEight was born.
I know my dad would be pleased that his picture is still there, and MissEight was pleased to see it as well.
The next stop was Fireman's Park, where I used to play and hang out while the boys played Little League games. It was, and still is, immaculately maintained. I was completely delighted to see that the swings, the fire truck structure, and the tiny slide remained, the very same ones I used for hours on summer nights, until the sun was going down and my folks were telling me we had to go now, come on!
I tried, 40 years later, to do a pull-up on the same bar where I tried and failed as a kid, failed again completely, and smiled. I left the park to a young curly blonde-haired mom, who was running after her blonde toddler girl, while she carried a blonde baby girl.