THE CITY REBORN FROM THE ASHES OF AMERICA'S MOST DISASTROUS FOREST FIRE
Tales from the old-timer
Issue Date: May 22, 2014
Junket to Crivitz
By Jane Thibodeau Martin,
daughter of the Old-Timer
I was recently home for a few days to visit my family. Due to the need for an errand, I drove my rental car from my parents home to Crivitz to pick something up for them.
Ive been living in Oklahoma now for 14 years, so the road trip, once totally familiar, was fresh again. I dont believe I have been in Crivitz even once since we relocated. While I remembered the curves of the highway and the major landmarks like river and creek crossings, there are many changes too.
Areas that were heavily wooded have become homesteads - cute little cottages turned into full-time homes, and old farmsteads now missing their classic wood barns.
Some of the tidy homes I always admired have deteriorated, but a few that were run down, with lawns cluttered with junk, have been made tidy and neat.
One surprise was not seeing a single deer, alive or dead, during my trip. But the area is still as beautiful as I remembered, and the presence of Marsh Marigolds, or Cowslips, as we called them, in the water-filled ditches evoked wonderful memories of trying to pick a few for my Mother without getting my feet wet. That was something that I was rarely able to accomplish, due to their preference for looking their best in the middle of swamps.
When our children were small we often went to Crivitz for a drive on early spring weekends, since moving those few miles inland further from the bay nearly always resulted in slightly warmer temperatures. Wed throw rocks into the water, toss the softball around, and let the kids explore parks. The drive on my errand was a tremendous trip down a lane of memories for me.
All too soon I arrived in Crivitz, although I felt the pull of traveling further to my old hangout of Roaring Rapids, one of the most beautiful stretches of the Peshtigo River there is. I saw the signs for Kosirs rafting, and a flood of memories of wonderful trips with friends and family members down the five drops rushed back to me as well.
My parents were apologetic about the need for the errand. It was a joyful experience for me to accomplish the job.