Back on 175

Most of us could see the steeple from our yards

Our parents bowled together, or maybe played cards

St. Anthony’s in Fussville, though names and buildings changed

And the fields we roamed have been plowed over and rearranged

I remember us looking out in awe,  watching the big earth movers drive

Widening Appleton Ave when we were growing up going to school back on 175

We skinned knees playing on the blacktop, laughing through the pain

Sat and looked out the window, lamenting recess inside due to rain

Had fish fries, smorgasbords, chili dinners; gemütlichkeit created a vibe

Everyone pitched in, worked and laughed together back on 175

Time seems to drag on as you are a kid in grade school

Can’t wait to be older, wear jeans and band tees and look cool

Then we got there, heard the line how we may never pass this way again

Didn’t really sink in for years, but now it stings every time I lose a friend

I know we can’t go back, yet there are times in my mind I strive

To take myself back to good old SA, and the days back on 175

Tim Windisch