Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless. Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001. It was one of those things that can generate crime: two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job. Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things. Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold. But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find. His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead. He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds. He will be paralyzed for life. None of this is pleasant. Reading the f...
Stopped at Candor on Monday and saw this unique marker.
Interesting. If you had to choose something to put in a sealed glass container that symbolized what you cared for in life, what would it be?
This is the bridge at the "Rader Range" that Ed fell off when we were maneuvering a timber. His comment when he straggled back up, "They'll see my hat floating and say, "'There goes Rader walking in the creek again.'"
This was the ball diamond we played softball in Seaton.
Left field where I prowled. A place where homeruns went to die.
Herb's grain elevator where we boys worked in the summer. Good thing they didn't do annual evaluations. Pretty sorry place now, as it is slowly falling to the ravages of time and nature. The back door directly under the funnel on the roof is where we fired pop-bottle rockets at Louis Owens, or was it Leman McClellan? Notice the brick building to the far right across the street. That was where the Mole Man sat squatting everyday.
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