Dwindling Towns By Jeffrey Polet - November 19, 2013 2 Reading Time: < 1 Facebook Twitter Email Print Over at Urbanplains Magazine is this interesting piece on the disappearance of small, urban towns. It’s one of the catastrophes of our age. RELATED ARTICLESMORE FROM AUTHOR The Stump Not Throwing Away My Shot: Alexander Hamilton and the Militarization of the American Police Education & Liberal Learning The College and the Community: A Strange Saga in Tallahassee The Nightstand The Man Who Saw the Bear Culture, High & Low Brass Spittoon: Ken Myers on Three Decades (almost) of Mars Hill Audio Short Tech Monopolies, Church Forests, and Publish and Perish The Stump Civic Muscle: A Political Physiology 2 COMMENTS Hey, we played them in basketball, back in 62-63. Rode my bike through there back in 95 on a nostalgia ride between boyhood homes in Nebraska and Minnesota. If I remember right, in 62-63 it was a long ride on gravel roads get there from Center. In 95 it was a paved road with slow traffic and friendly drivers. Except for the young people, all the oncoming drivers waved. It’s a one- or two-finger wave, without taking hands off the steering wheel, just like back in the 60s. Lynch may have been a Class C school for basketball; we were Class D. Center was on the edge of the Santee Sioux reservation. Graduating class of 7, my freshman class had 8. After that year, Center High School closed. The Indian kids all went to Niobrara, and the rest of us to Verdigres, which is a little closer to Lynch than Center was. In a way I should never have gone back for that visit 18 years ago, because it killed a lot of memories. It was a pleasant ride, and there weren’t any great surprises or disillusionments even though I had been away for over 30 years. But before that ride I had some achingly vivid memories of the rides in the school station wagon between Center, Verdigres, Niobrara, Lynch, and Spencer. Haven’t been able to get them back ever since. Verdigre, not Verdigres. I told you my memories got all confused and muted after that bike ride. I was sitting in the back of a 10th grade social studies or history class when the principal walked in on November 22, and told us the President had been shot. I turned to the kid next to me, and said that if he lived, Kennedy would be re-elected for sure. I don’t remember a thing else that was said until the principal came back in and announced that the President was dead. School was dismissed early. Some girls who were getting on the buses were crying. School buses loaded in front of the school. There aren’t many photos of the old school on the web any more — I think a new one was constructed not too long ago. But here is a b/w photo of the old one. I also remember my first words when one of our faculty members came up to me in the hall and told me that President Reagan had been shot: “Oh, no. George Bush.” Comments are closed.