By Linda Livermore, a Cloverland Electric Cooperative member
Like all young girls, I was no exception. Living in St. Ignace, in what was known as the third ward, also called Vide-Puche, French for “empty pockets,” the neighborhood was filled with kids my age and was a fun place to grow up. Playing dress-up, building snow forts, going to the local theatre, holding hands for the first time with a classmate you had a crush on—life was good in the 1950s.
The big two-story brick schoolhouse was a place of safety, learning, friendship, and memories to carry into old age. I was afraid that, starting kindergarten, I would forever be known as a “kindergarten baby.” I was made to stay after school because, for the life of me, I could not make the number eight. I could not understand why a circle on top of a circle was not good enough. Moving through the grades, there were only six; each one held a special memory, from learning to do the Virginia reel with precision to decorating your very own valentine box and hoping it would be full, to a field trip across the road to the woods to gather materials to make a wooden flute. Thanks, Mr. Hagen.
But, for me, the very best times were in the winter when the sandlot/playground would be flooded to make a perfect skating rink so that during recess and after school and in the evenings and sometimes all day Saturdays, we could ice skate to our hearts, content. As a young girl, I would lace up the skates and glide (I thought) like an Olympic skater. If I closed my eyes and still was upright, I could picture myself with my skirt gently lifted as I skated to the music coming from the warming shack and see myself standing on the podium receiving the gold medal, hanging tightly to the bouquet of flowers given to the winner. That dream never became a reality, but lots of dreams don’t, and the memory has lasted into old age.
About the author: Linda is retired from the 92nd District Court in St. Ignace. She has written a column for the St. Ignace News for the last 35+ years.
