I was born and raised outside of a small town that my great grandparents helped settle many many years ago. I lived on the farm that my great grandfather, grandfather, and father farmed for eleven of my years. When I was eleven we moved into the town of Cherokee, Iowa. What a change of environment and social graces that was for me. We had running water, both hot and cold as well as an indoor bathroom. I had my own bedroom and most of all I could have my friends come to my house after school.
My mother went to work at the Council Oak grocery store and my father was a linotype operator at the Cherokee Daily Times newspaper. Our life was simple, but comfortable. We went to church on Sundays, and my friends and I went roller skating on Fridays. Oh the romance of the couples skate. How could one forget the dim lights and the thrill of being asked to skate by a good looking boy? (I never was.) A Youth Center was built and I learned how to dance to the song called, "Who's Behind The Green Door?"
One of the things that I will never forget along with can cans starched with my mother's sugar, fights with my brother, and playing tennis, was the Soda Grille. Oh how I loved that place. It had a really long counter where men folks gathered for their work break, teachers went to discuss problem students, (hopefully never me) and to order a cold drink. It had a row or two of high back booths where my friends and I would sometimes go. It was such fun to discuss the day we'd had at school, what we were going to do on the weekends and who was going with who or who broke up with who. We talked about riding around. Yes riding around was a big thing especially on Friday nights. The popular boys would sometimes get to drive their father's car around and around the town and most assuredly meet at an empty parking lot to gab. And of course, if we were lucky we would get to see who the boys had in the car with them. That would be juicy news at the locker on Monday morning at school.
There was ice cream, French fries, many things to eat and a sundry of cold drinks; one of which was my favorite; cherry phosphates. It's a crazy thing when you get to be my age, memories crop up for absolutely no reason at all. None. I went out to the kitchen to see what there was to drink. I looked at the healthy fruit juices, a can or two of soda and bottle of water. No! I wanted a cherry phosphate. So here I am still wanting one, but telling you just exactly how good they were. Plus they were served to you in a beautiful soda glass which we did not have at home, and ever so bubbly plus tart and sweet at the same time. And oh the crushed ice and a straw!
