It's been a long time since I've written anything design-related, but I found gainful employment. It kept me insano-busy...in the best way possible. I've been creating web ads, and through...
Love to Touhy
In my early childhood I spent quite a bit of time in the small Nebraska town of Touhy. My grandmother owned the tavern, the sole business in the tiny town of, at that time, 21 people. I recently made a trip there with my mom and husband…most likely my last visit. Almost all of the people my mom and I knew there are gone. It’s hard to see so many changes, but it’s good to see new life there.
Thanks to my husband, Derek, for this photo of my mom and I in front of the tavern my grandmother once owned. The sign and siding is different, but the name has stayed the same.
After my grandmother passed away, my mom ran the tavern until it could be sold. I stayed much of the time with her there, spending my days playing with My Little Ponies at one of the tables, conning the regulars for quarters to play in the juke box (usually the Happy Birthday song, much to their horror), and learning to play pool while standing on a chair since I was too short to reach.
The kids living there were so welcoming and had me over to their houses a lot, making me feel at home. I’m sad I lost touch with them over the years. I wonder what they’re up to now.
This is the one-room schoolhouse I attended. I have such fond memories of it and really value the education provided there. Today it sits empty.
The town’s church can be seen on the left, the cemetery on the right. The rolling hills are quite breathtaking. As a child, I took them for granted.
A Catholic church sits on one end of the town with the cemetery a ways behind it. An almost life-sized angel greets you inside the opening of the church.
While many things have aged over the years, the church has been maintained impeccably and is exactly as ornate and beautiful as I remembered. It is obviously much-loved.
The inside of the confessional was very plain; in stark contrast with the rest of the church.
My grandmother was so liked in the town that the Catholic Church allowed her funeral there, despite not being a member. She is buried in the cemetery on the hill, along with most of the tavern regulars I knew there. Only a few are left from that era. My uncle recently told me she loved the rolling hills there. Now she has one of the best views.