Rader Range

Continuing my travels while back home in December, I took a drive back to Seaton by way of my Uncle's place where I used to work.

This is where I worked during the summers while in high school and college(s) and off and on when I started working at the Mary Davis Home. It was a nice little 360 acres about 3 miles outside Seaton that my Uncle Ed farmed. Yesterday's post had more on Ed, so go back and check it out.   For some reason I enjoy heading back to the farm and Seaton whenever I come back.

This is heading west with some of Ed's old ground on the right.  At the stop sign you turn right and everything on either side was Ed's.  

I stopped the car just at the stop sign and to the left used to be a railroad and treacle.  That ravine to the left in the picture is where the tracks were.  This always reminds me of when I worked for Ed and we were heading out for a day of shelling corn, I'm guessing at Howard Shike's place. 

This was the site of my only Superman moment.  I'm sure I have told this tale before on this blog, but here goes again.  It was a summer job out here and I was starting my smoking habit.  Since Ed was my Uncle I didn't want to smoke in front of him cause I didn't want to risk it getting back to the parents, so whenever I could get away from Ed I'd have smoke.  So we loaded up the pick-up truck with the 6 or 8 foot sections of heavy metal drags that slip into the corn cribs as an auger.  There were about 5 or so sections and the routine was I'd drive the truck ahead of Ed who would follow along with the tractor and sheller.   And those sections take at least 2 guys to move.  As I turn the corner and head up the old railroad bridge I was going too fast so I could grab a smoke, so I goose the truck.  As a result of gunning the truck and heading up hill, those sections or "drags" fell off the truck.  So here I am with a cigarette in my mouth, 6 heavy drags on the ground, the truck on an incline up the railroad bridge, and I can hear the tractor getting closer.  So this is my Superman moment.  I ditch the cig, put the truck in neutral with the emergency brake on, and hope no one comes flying over from the east.  Rushing down somehow I get ALL six drags back in and going before Ed starts his turn around the curve.  Amazing feat for a scrawny high school kid.  I don't know how I did it, but the fear of Ed's face if he turned the corner and saw it did the trick.

Another shot of the old tracks.  Nothing exists anymore of the tracks or tressle.  When we lived on Chambers Street we had a large koi pond and i went over to retrieve some square tressle lumber we used as benches around the pond.  They might still be there, but here, on Ed's land nothing exists anymore.   

The railroad tracks went north-south and the bridge was approximately here.  We used to come out and wait for trains to go underneath it.  Of course we were just small kids at that time.  It's all gone now, including my "kidness". 

The Rader Range.  See where those trees are just to the right of center?  The train tracks ran along that embankment and then across the road.  Ed and Glady's house up on the knoll with outbuildings. with the trademark pines lining the driveway.  There was, up till Ed died a glorious old big red barn. We actually painted it at one time.  He put me in the scoop of the tractor and up I went to slap on some paint.  I'm sure OSHA wouldn't have approved. Oddly enough it burned shortly after he died.  No one knows what happened but the best guess was one of the tenants tossed a cigarette and a bird latched onto it for nesting material.    

This was the scene of another incident Ed and I had.  That is a small creek that runs through the lower 160.  Over the creek is a small bridge that we were working on one time, replacing planks and shoring it up.  We were moving a plank one summer day, me at the front and him at the back.  I'm not exactly sure how it happened but pretty soon the plank went banging down at the back and when I turned around Ed wasn't there.  He had fallen off the side of the bridge and went down into the creek, which, at times could get pretty deep.  After making it back on shore and up to the bridge, Ed looked back at his hat floating down the on top of the water and he said, "The neighbors will say there goes Ed walking in the creek again."  

Before we leave this story telling, I must relate another story regarding our bridge mending. Clear down at the end of his land there was some woven wire fencing that was stretched down into the water and then back up to land to prevent cows from getting out.  We had to work on that area and required getting into the creek.  Ed took off his shirt leaving his tank top-like undershirt, took off his pants leaving his white boxers on.  He put on his welding glasses and down her went with his tool belt.  Now picture scrawny, tall Ed with feed cap, welders glasses, tool besot wearing only boxers and tank top.  It is a sight as indelible to me as anything.     

This is a driveway leading up to the house.  I always mowed this area with a Ferguson-Massey little tractor with rear-end mower.  That little square clear to the right is actually a good sized butler-type building.  Ed and I constructed that baby.  One of my recurring disappointments was Gladys had an aerial photograph of the farm back when I was working with Ed and it had this building and where I always parked my car behind it.  It was hanging in her kitchen after she had moved to galesburg to be closer to her daughter Jan. It was taken on a day when I was working, because my old Plymouth Fury 4-door was in it.    Gladys passed away a few years ago and Jan died unexpectedly last year.  I mentioned I'd like a copy to Jan once, but people get busy.  I don't suppose I'll ever get a copy at this point.   I suppose I could ask Dave, Jan's husband, or Eddie, Ed's son, but well, it would seem rather forward. Man, what I wouldn't give because not only was my car there but it also had the old barn, which I do not have a picture of. 

Leaving the farm and into Seaton, this is a picture of a small creek in Seaton not too far from where we lived.  We used to crawl down as kids and get crawdads.  Wonder if they still live there?  It was always an adventure as little kids to go into the creek here.  I don't think the folks liked it, and I can remember once Herb going home for lunch and retrieving us all wet, cold and muddy, but that's the way it is in a small town.  Eventually we found a bigger better creek on the way to the old school.  By that time we had an army of town kids and cherry bombs.  But you know the old saying, what happened at the creek stayed at the creek.