We all have songs/smells/pictures/trinkets from our past that remind us of something significant. It might bring a smile to your face, make you laugh outright or well up with tears in your eyes and your throat feels so tight you can’t swallow or talk for a minute. Memories from ‘way back.’ These memories are important and sometimes easier to recall than what you ate for lunch yesterday.

The more I age there’s less about my life that’s focused on my hometown. I haven’t called Rock Valley (or even Iowa) my home for a very long time. That bothers me. I never imagined living outside of my native state, yet in one year I will have lived in Michigan as long as I lived in Iowa. Hurts my heart.

But why? Certainly isn’t climate. Michigan’s is similar to Iowa’s and I don’t care for either. Not a big family pull anymore, all of our immediate family are within an hour of us. Gotta believe it’s those ‘reminders’ I’m getting which are often triggered and makes me homesick for my little One-stoplight town (which is no longer little and now boasts 4 traffic lights. How is that even possible?)

I get my hometown fix when I blog about Rock Valley or growing up there. It starts with a memory I write about, but it’s the comment threads afterwards that get my juices flowing. Someone will mention a place, event or mundane chunk from everyday life and it’s off to the races. One comment leads to another and suddenly I’m homesick. Most memories involving the 2 planets that revolved around my small universe, school and church. (BB-before boys) All common denominators if you grew up in Rock Valley during the 50’s and 60’s.

Dad moved to Michigan 6 months after mom passed away in 2004 when he was 88. To help keep him in touch, we subscribed to the weekly paper, the Rock Valley Bee. The Bee came to my house, then I’d bring it to dad’s apartment. Some weeks he’d talk about the articles (mostly obituaries) for days, staying connected. He’d reminisce about the person, recalling times they went to the Sioux City Gospel mission together or preaching (Dad was a devoted lay minister) at a South Dakota prison with a group from church.

Before mom died, there had been no need for Rock Valley’s newspaper. Mom was the talking paper! In our phone conversations every few days, she’d let me know what was going on in school, who had died, sometimes even the meat specials at Van’s or Koster’s Market. After dad passed away in 2008, I realized I needed to keep getting the Bee or lose more reminders of my hometown.

When I was a kid we lived 2 blocks from school so I didn’t eat hot lunch everyday. If mom had a day off or when she came home from work during lunch, I usually did too. Tuna salad or leftover homemade soup from last night’s supper were our mainstays. I ate lunch at school whenever they offered cinnamon rolls. I think cinnamon rolls were always coupled with chili, (not my favorite but it didn’t matter because there were cinnamon rolls)! My other favorite hot lunch was turkey dinner feast. But for the most part I ate lunch at home.

The small town of Rock Valley had some of their own quirks. It was a mostly Dutch community so Dutch slang was rampant. (We didn’t realize it at the time, it was just the way we talked). Once some of us moved away from northwest Iowa and folks in other parts of Iowa asked, “what the heck is a ploujes?” (Plu-shee, a piece of lint or fuzzy from a sock on the floor or your clothes. Hut-fa-duttie-means oh-my-goodness).

Imagine my surprise when perusing the Bee a dozen years ago when I spotted the weekly menus from our local schools. Pretty sure I cried. I don’t know if this started as a Dutch thing or a northwest Iowa custom but people from Davenport had never heard of a Tavern. (Their definition was a bar or pub). A Tavern is NOT a sloppy joe or a loose meat so don’t confuse them. Taverns probably started as a way to stretch hamburger for a growing family. I still make them for supper, especially if I have a bowl of potato salad in the fridge. Browned ground beef and onion, drained, add a titch of brown sugar and squirt of yellow mustard, plus enough Heinz ketchup to kinda hold it together, served on a hamburger bun. I couldn’t believe Taverns are still a staple for lunch in school.

Cream chicken was another meal made at home and served at school. Diced or shredded chicken mixed with a white sauce (I’ve never mastered white sauce-guess I’m ‘chicken’ and afraid of failure, so I cheat and use Cream of Chicken soup with a bit of chicken broth, salt & pepper). Served hot on buns, it was always featured at-wait for it-Church Soup Suppers.

Soup Suppers were immensely popular when I was a kid. An event for raising money for different ladies’ aid groups from our church. My mom contributed numerous pots of soup for the cause back in the day. I believe the ladies all used the same basic recipe for each variety served. Mom used rice in Chicken soup and Vegetable Beef, but I prefer barley (sorry mom). The other two choices were Chili and Pea Soup. Pea soup seems like an unusual choice-maybe it was a Dutch thing). I know whenever mom made Pea Soup she’d soak the peas overnight in a big white enamel (chipped) pot of melted snow she’d collected from the backyard. And she never, ever used split peas, always whole dried peas. She added a ham bone (with plenty of ham still attached) or several pork hocks. Diced an onion early on and for the last 20-30 minutes, a couple of diced potatoes, sometimes adding tiny diced carrots for color.

But church soup suppers were more than money makers for the women’s mission project. They never a set price for the meal but suggested a free will offering. (God gave us free will for everything, even soup suppers). It was a social event held midweek and most of the congregation showed up since it lasted 2-3 hours, even the farmers could come after chores. So you had your choice of at least 4 soups with a Cream Chicken bun or Tavern, and lots of choices for dessert including homemade pies (we had some amazing cooks)! While I was eating at a table with my friends, you’d hear laughter coming from the ladies working in the kitchen. This wasn’t a somber affair like serving lunch after a funeral. These ladies were having a good time and you witnessed how much they enjoyed each other’s company.

The last soup supper I went to at First Reformed Church in Rock Valley was during the late 1960’s. Imagine my surprise when I opened my last Rock Valley Bee. First Reformed is still holding Soup Suppers. Same 4 soup choices, same 2 accompanying sandwiches, still boasting homemade pies and your free will offering of paying a buck or $10. for the meal God has blessed for you. Does my heart good. Sometimes it’s the little things that produce the best memories…

It took fifty years for others to recognize I was onto something. Had I been blogging after a couple years of marriage, say in 1972, millions of dollars and thousands of marriages might have been saved. I’d probably been famous, the author of many self-help books (the genre I NEVER read). But no one took my advice. That all changed with Covid.

To be honest it wasn’t something we really planned, it just sorta happened. Hubs and I had been dating off and on for years. My parents were not receptive towards John. (He was a Methodist-gasp). After a lengthy breakup, we started talking again. The old fashioned way by landline phone. This time I was gonna be strong and not let my parents dictate/influence my (our) future.

Without much fanfare we just decided to go ahead and do it. We took exactly one person we knew (and trusted) into our confidence and one person we’d never laid eyes on before (because we needed two). We eloped (on a Monday night at 7 p.m in Elk Point, SD. It was a done deal by 7:04) in front of 3 people (the friend, the stranger and the judge-although the judge was unknown to us too). We took the friend and stranger out for supper, (the judge declined our offer, thank heavens, we were nearly out of money before we left on our extended 2-DAY honeymoon). The friend and stranger drove back to Sioux City and the Hubs (first time I could legally call him that) and I headed for Sioux Falls.

That was 52-1/2 years go. Our frugal, no hassle achievement didn’t hit me right away but after a few years of marriage I surmised, that’s the way to get married. Why spend thousands on an event, a dress, music, food and an expensive honeymoon? Just pick a day, grab a couple witnesses (might be better if you know them both) jog to the courthouse (we had a flat tire on the day we filed for our marriage license and made the deadline before the courthouse closed by 10 minutes), say your I do’s and save all that money and stress. BTW, about half of the US marriages end in divorce. Crazy and kind of a downer! Why start it off in debt to boot? If your parents want to do something special for you, use the money saved from an extravagant wedding for a down payment on a house or pay cash for a car! Is that not a much better way to spend a few thousand? Yes siree.

Since then I’ve told everyone who’d listen my thoughts on lavish weddings. A huge waste of money. Too much stress and anxiety for a one day affair. Having a big wedding does not guarantee your marriage is going to be successful. If couples put as much effort into their first 2-5 years of marriage as they do pulling off their extravagant, expensive wedding day, the divorce rate would plummet. Truth right there.

I read an article in the paper recently how Covid has changed the way couple’s approach getting hitched. When the pandemic hit and the earth stood still (only 2 weeks to flatten the curve) couples with wedding plans were in a bind. Churches, courthouses, reception halls were all shuttered. Postponements and rescheduling were a hassle because after 2 weeks, 2 months or 2 years of delays, life was still not back to ‘normal.’ Most new plans had to be rescheduled again & again and couples were weary of not having a firm plan in place. Whatever the reason of starting a life and family together, there must be a less hectic way to get hitched.

Some new wedding day concepts/notions (my idea actually. Guess I was an ‘influencer’ before there was such a word) were hatched during this 2 year slowdown. As couples sought out new dates to reschedule they found the waiting list for churches and reception halls booked 2 to 3 years in advance. Couples were discouraged trying to reschedule their lives to fit everyone else’s. Instead they discovered different ways to celebrate their actual wedding with friends and family. They were weary of putting their wedded bliss on hold indefinitely, so they started improvising.

Why not get married on a weekday with 40 close friends and relatives in attendance instead of 200? (I’m still a firm believer in a simple elopement). A pretty cake, some appetizers, champagne to share with those you love and support you as a couple. Maybe at a resort, park, private room at your favorite pub or in someone’s home. Take the rest of the week off for a short honeymoon and call it good. Start your marriage off without a boatload of debt. Sounds good doesn’t it?

Little did I realize I was a pioneering ‘influencer’ before it became a thing. Well to be a bonafide influencer, you have to be followed by thousands, but besides that, I could have been a contender! I might have been famous without even trying, 50 years after I first endorsed eloping as a cost savings, practical approach to a successful, debt free marriage. (The debt came after we said I do). I also have some sound advice on becoming parents if and when you choose and the need arises. Three words. Space your children. (Unless your biological clock alarm’s going off)…

I’m not much of a ‘group’ person. As a hearing impaired loner, large groups make me twitchy. But I wasn’t always like this. As a teen I did my best to fit in. Our town was small and a bit isolated (meaning you didn’t get by with much). Often my parents knew my transgressions before I walked in (past curfew) because someone (an adult) had already witnessed and snitched on me. Sigh.

Several years ago a special group was formed on Facebook. Everyone who joined had grown up in Rock Valley, Iowa (with the exception of Alma but we love her anyway). Some recently, but most of us experienced our childhood and teenage years during the 50’s, 60’s & 70’s. For the first few months as our numbers swelled from 30 to 100, (now it’s over 1,000, but posts are few and far between) people started random conversations about school, best friends, parents, tragedies, oddities, teachers, churches, keggers, sand pits, swimming hole, dump, stores on Main Street, parties, restaurants, bowling alley, good parking spots, bank, movie theater, piles of snow in the middle of the street, sledding, winters that lasted forever, shopping in Sioux Falls, a cow who was set for slaughter but narrowly escaped death, and some noteworthy pranks.

We weren’t bad kids but easily bored, (there wasn’t much to do) and that’s when trouble started. I’ve owned up to my misdemeanors when I began blogging in 2014 (how is that even possible? I’ve written nonsense for nearly 8 years!). Certainly the statute of limitations had run out, right?

As small as our town was back then, there were pranks pulled that somehow remained mysterious or unknown to the masses. This one was a doozy. It was vaguely mentioned on ‘If you grew up in Rock Valley’ site awhile back but happened over 50 years ago. No one was hurt and no drinking had taken place. I wasn’t involved. I swear.

One night during the summer of ‘67 or ‘68, ‘The 3 Stooges,’ (3 bored teenage boys looking for some excitement in Rock Valley) were down at “The Cue.” This was a teen hangout underneath our grocery store where kids played pool, Foosball and drank pop. (Not soda) One of the policemen’s kids came down and during a casual conversation with The 3 Stooges might have mentioned every local cop was in Sioux Falls (45 miles away) for a conference that night. The main drag of our quaint town had one solitary stoplight (which always tugged at my heartstrings so I named my blog after it). The officer ‘on duty’ often parked by said traffic light, facing east with a good view of north/south traffic. The boys walked upstairs and sure enough, one of the cop’s car was just sitting there, 1/4 block away. How much fun would it be to stuff a potato in his tailpipe?

But wait! The car doors were open! The steering wheel wasn’t locked. (Why I oughta). One of the three-some suggested, “Let’s hide the cop’s car,” so they pushed it in an alley, then snickered their way back to The Cue. “But the alley’s the first place they’re gonna look. Where can we stash this car for a awhile?” Suddenly, Moe remembers an abandoned grainery 6 miles southeast of town. “Let’s push it out there! It will take them days to find it.” Moe gets behind the wheel, Curly calls ‘shotgun’ and Larry uses his car to push the other 2 yahoos out of town in the cop’s car.

Being subtle had not yet been introduced into the 3 Stooge’s language skills or behavior patterns. They tried but could not resist. So there they were, 2 in the cop’s car, lights flashing, (no sirens, thank heavens) being pushed east down 14th Street. Right past the mayor’s house who happened to be looking out the window. (You knuckleheads) The mayor eventually pursued. But the 3 mischief maker’s took no notice and proceeded out of town.

They got a couple miles out of town when they spied headlights in their rear view. Larry suffered a moment of lucidity (or panic), concluding it was not the right time to get caught, swung his car out from pushing and sped off. Consequently the cop’s car immediately slowed to a crawl with the mayor in hot pursuit, pulling alongside with his passenger screaming, “pull over, pull over!” Moe suddenly shoves the car into park. He and Curly fall, trip, slide down a deep ditch into a corn field. Two more sets of headlights soon stop, get out (with tracking dogs. Just kidding) and the heat is on. Had it been August with Iowa’s corn stalks higher than Curly & Moe, escaping would have been easier, but it was July and the corn was only knee-high so they crawled through the fields. The 2 made their way back to town, found Larry, had a good laugh and went their separate ways. (Nyut, Nyut, Nyut).

A couple days later Moe, Curly and Larry thought the incident was all but forgotten, but they’d been ratted out. The passenger in the mayor’s car most likely. The local Justice of the Peace hauled them into court, which was held at night (everyone worked during the day) to a packed house with overflow folks on the sidewalk. The Stooge’s had no lawyer and were questioned by the judge. “Why didn’t you stop?” “We didn’t know it was the mayor.” “Then why did you finally stop?” “Cause Larry stopped pushing us,” which produced a big laugh for everyone but the judge. (Oh, a wise guy!) The judge then accused them of being guilty and not admitting it. Court was adjourned for the night.

The boys figured this could be more serious than they initially thought. Finally, using the brains God gave them, stopped to seek advice from an attorney. When the barrister heard what happened ‘in court,’ he kept shaking his head and saying, “judge, judge, judge.” He then got a change of venue for the boys to another town.

While realizing this was a fairly serious offense, the judge wasn’t out to ruin 3 young men’s lives over pushing a cop’s car around for a few minutes. Grand theft auto would have resulted in felony charges and possibly jail time. (“Nyaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh-ah-ah”) Instead the judge offered, ‘tampering with an emergency vehicle,’ a Misdemeanor which all 3 gladly accepted. And a $100. fine for EACH of the goofballs (which was significant, gotta hit them where it hurts). It was a teaching moment and lessons were learned on both sides.

1. Never have a time when no policeman is on duty. 2. Never leave a police car unattended or unlocked. (Poifect)

Oh, I almost forgot. Whatever became of that hefty $300. dollar fine? Well the town of Rock Valley bought new Christmas decorations up and down Main Street, compliments of the 3 Stooges that year. They were gorgeous and flashy. A little reminder every Advent season when Curly’s family drove through town his mom would exclaim, “we paid for these decorations!” Low enough so mom couldn’t distinguish what he was mumbling, Curly muttered, (“It soitenly was fun though.”)…