Editor’s note: Longtime Chronicle columnist Bill Moeller occasionally submits columns from his archives. This commentary was first published in 2009.
I was just thinking that we notice things that are added to our lives more quickly than we notice what has been taken away.
Years ago, I was driving north on Kresky Avenue and something just didn't look quite right. It was the hedge that was missing from the grounds of Pacific Cataract and Laser Institute.
I felt a little sad, almost like losing a friend.
There's something comforting about a well-trimmed hedge that gives a sense of stability to its surroundings. A hedge is elegant and — even more — reassuring, which seems to me to be the image that a medical facility would have wanted to promote.
I've often thought that Centralia College could improve its campus tremendously by the judicious placing of a couple of low hedges.
If I remember from my attendance there back in the 60s, there weren't buildings tall enough to be considered a "hall of ivy," but hedges would supply a feeling of permanence and I'd be happy to advise on their placement. (Remember, folks, this was written a dozen or so years ago.) There's another institution that I miss (and I'll bet you do too) — the old Yard Birds.
Not the one that spent its last days in the currently "empty" building between the Twin Cities.
Even in its last days, there wasn't the feeling that the original building had.
For instance, do you remember the shotguns that used to hang on an upper wall? There was one shotgun with a bent barrel for shooting around corners. Another one was a blunderbuss with a plumber's friend sticking out of its barrel.
My favorite was the shotgun with a black bow tie for formal Lewis County weddings.
And I miss Judy's restaurant near Toledo. (Or is that the name of the hamburger stand? I think that was the name of it. Or was it?)
I took Corine there on our first date and mentioned that I had married the owner's daughter there. I meant that I had performed the ceremony, but she took it to mean that I had one more wife than she knew about. It took a bit to straighten that out.
Food was served more like buffet style. You filled your plate by yourself, and that was handy. It allowed a cook or cooks time to concentrate on two or three items, and it was always tasty.
And those entrees had more of the taste of home cooked Sunday dinners than almost any other I've come across.
There was once a "mom and pop" place in Onalaska that came close to it, though.
I miss the unstoppable, almost childlike enthusiasm toward life and the jazz piano playing of Ken Kimball and the quiet gentleness of Bob Venemon.
I miss the interplay with customers of Huckleberry Books.
Oh, I don't miss having to be behind the counter when the first sunny days of springtime peek in from around the corner. I think it's been established that customers of used bookstores are a slightly different breed of people. At times, they can be brilliant and sometimes quirky, but usually with an interesting story or two to tell.
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Bill Moeller is a former entertainer, mayor, bookstore owner, city council member, paratrooper and pilot living in Centralia. He can be reached at bookmaven321@comcast.net.
