Spare Moments at My Folks' Farm 2

Attica, Indiana, was a frequent destination for my parents. My father’s father had graduated from high school there, and it was just across the Wabash River—and the county line—from our home. For several childhood years, I visited a dentist (Dr. Sullivan?) whose office stood at the top of a series of creaking stairs. His building was near the dime store. I still have a tin jet on wheels that came from the dime store after a trip to see the dentist. I think my parents, both of whom wore false teeth, understood that dentistry could be painful and wanted me to have a reward after sitting in the dentist’s chair: hence, the purchase of a toy at the dime store. I will add that, as a child, I considered such variety stores the best stores on earth—with their tables crowded with trinkets, their shelves laden with toys.

Attica, Indiana, As I Remember It

Afternoons in Attica found us at Sam Newmark’s, a clothing store. As I recall, most of my wardrobe came from Newmark’s, including the leisure suits I proudly wore on special occasions when I was in high school. My polychromatic shirts put the “poly” in polyester!

Back when I was in junior high, I participated in an art show at the Carnegie Library, one of Indiana’s fine buildings instituted by funds from Andrew Carnegie. My art was juvenile. Come to think of it, my art today remains juvenile, despite my having enjoyed a side career as a freelance illustrator for over forty years. I guess I am “among the very young at heart,” as Frank Sinatra sang.

While I was growing up, my parents often took in a movie at the Devon Theatre. In those days, great movies that had not been seen for several years returned to theaters. I saw Ben Hur when it played again at the Devon.

Before heading home, visits to Attica frequently included a stop at the IGA to pick up supper ingredients. The grocery was located near the bridge back to Warren County.

One of my favorite memories of Attica was formed after I had become a pianist and was about to graduate. I played in the pit orchestra for a follies performed on the stage at one end of the gymnasium of the high school in Attica. There were numerous rehearsals. As a high school senior, I felt very grown up when I drove my 1953 Packard from Pine Village High School (my school) to Attica High School, grabbed a quick dinner at a restaurant nearby, and practiced the show until late at night. I could not have foreseen how often I would find myself practicing for other performances as a piano major at Indiana University down the road.

If I had a time machine, I’d like to revisit Attica’s darkened gymnasium and brightly lit stage, take my place at the piano, find the tempo in my mind, and begin the opening production number.