On the Run: Creating a Day Well Spent

In a day full of firsts, we attended a local auction, visited the first National Park dedicated to the Northwest Territories, and enjoyed a backyard concert well inside the city limits. And it was all very good.

What Am I Bid?

No pictures here, but we left late in the morning to meet friends at Graber Auctions. They were selling a vehicle.

We arrived and heard the auctioneer's patter. It was being broadcast to the crowd from speakers fitted into a camper top on an old, black Ford F150. The truck had become a rolling platform that moved slowly down a lane between items consigned for auction. In this case it was lawnmowers, riding lawnmowers, BIG riding lawnmowers, tractors, tillers, four-wheeler utility vehicles, golf carts, box trucks, racing trailers, and at least one box scraper my friend had his eye on.

Inside the camper, with two broad windows on either side propped open like awnings, sat auctioneer Mark Graber and an assistant. They worked their way through items to be sold, dispensed keys as needed to prove an item would start, and coaxed the assembled bidders into better prices for the seller. When possible. Mark didn't push, didn't linger when a reserve clearly would not be met, and worked diligently to be fair to all parties.

It was a study in humanity. I was wearing bib overalls and I was not out of place. Many attendees had not seen a barber in quite a while and had no idea where the shaving products are at Walmart. There were older men wearing bibs, jeans, or cargo shorts and tennis shoes or scuffed work boots. Younger guys wore shorts and t-shirts, some with amputated sleeves. About half wore ball caps with well-smudged brims testifying that they had no fear of dirtying their hands. And one gentleman had a black cowboy hat, a western shirt with piping, jeans and cowboy boots, and a prominent belt buckle of the Mercedes-Benz logo. Pretty snazzy.

Young families were out, carting infants and toddlers in carriers and strollers. And everybody was looking for that one irresistible bargain. Our wives had had sufficient exposure to the bright, hot sun (and possibly the dusty gravel, the din of commerce, and the crowd). They left us.

We waited for Mark to work his way through the items. Eli, another of Mark's assistants yesterday, moved from one item to the next. He had a pole about 5 feet tall with a blue sign atop it that told bidders, "This is the item being auctioned right now" or something similar. Nobody wants to bid on the wrong item. Or to listen to the pleas of somebody who has just done that.

We waited through a series of lawn equipment -- Husqvarna, Scag, Ferris, Cub Cadet, Snapper, Dixie Chopper, John Deere -- and eventually Paul, who was driving the truck Mark worked from, turned around and started back up the lane.

We had agreed that $150 was a good top bid for the box scraper. Mark started the bidding at $100 and it moved smoothly past our comfort zone. Somebody took it home for $175.

As we walked away, slightly disappointed but none the poorer, my friend mentioned how important it is to stick to your guns and not get caught up in "auction fever." I felt safe. Showing up with nothing to spend goes a long way toward that type of resolve.

Getting to Know Knox

Our next stop was Knox County. In particular, the town of Vincennes. It all began at Old Chicago Pizza and Tap Room. Try the Chicago 7 ("Pepperoni, Italian sausage, red onions, black olives, green peppers, sliced mushrooms and cheese of course!") on a deep dish crust. 

We have a National Park?

Being a "flyover" state, we Hoosiers are accustomed to doing without in some respects. When we think National Parks, we think Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, etc. But we have one. Not 30 minutes from our home. It commemorates an inspiring movement of a small group of combatants through daunting terrain to take possession of three towns for the newly formed United States. 

If you come to southern Indiana (and why wouldn't you?), visit George Rogers Clark National Historical Park in Vincennes. The park is on the site of Fort Sackville beside the Wabash River. The fort is gone, although you can see a model of the fort at the Visitors Center. In its place you'll find the George Rogers Clark Memorial.

I had read stories of Clark, his Long Knives, and their activities in the area during the American Revolution. Don't miss the video presentation at the Visitors Center. It may help you appreciate the  accomplishments of Clark's command during his Illinois Campaign in the Northwest Territories. It put a face onto history for me.

This piece of American history is also reenacted annually each Memorial Day at the Spirit of Vincennes Rendezvous.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirit_of_Vincennes,_Inc

The Wabash

Since we were so close, we exited the Visitors Center and walked the few yards to the Wabash River.

The Lincoln Memorial Bridge is one of the most attractive bridges in the area. It connects Indiana and Illinois at Vigo Street.

Vigo is a name attached to many things in the Knox County area. It refers to Giuseppe Maria Francesco Vigo, better known as Francis. Vigo was a former Spanish soldier and fur trader who moved his trading business from St. Louis to Vincennes. He was an Italian-born informant to the American military, captured by native Americans, held by the British as a Spanish citizen and released at the insistence of the French. If you like international studies, I think you've come to the right place.

Pride of Place

Do you have a symbol that is important to you? It could be something of religious significance, a seal of a fraternity or sorority, or even a tattoo you commissioned especially in honor of a person or event. Given the French heritage of Vincennes, the fleur-de-lis has particular meaning here. You'll see it in the city flag and in place throughout the town. One of those places is in metalwork. This is part of a covered bus stop outside Old Chicago Pizza and Tap Room.

Vincennes is not bashful about its famous natives, either. 

Richard Bernard Eheart, probably known as Red Skelton to you, was one of those natives. Skelton believed that his life's work was to make people laugh; he wanted to be known as a clown because he defined it as being able to do everything. He had a 70-year-long career as a performer and entertained three generations of Americans. His widow donated many of his personal and professional effects to Vincennes University, including prints of his artwork. They are part of the Red Skelton Museum of American Comedy at Vincennes.

More Than Bricks

It's not immediately apparent in the preceding picture, but the building facades on Main Street have beautiful architecture. The ornamentation is a reminder that architects throughout the years were very aware they were creating not just a building, but a place. They felt that place was worth the effort to ensure it is memorable.

In addition to the beauty, I like the surprises. I keep coming back to this wall that was revealed when the building beside it was torn down.

I like the Schulteis Brothers sign painted on the brick. I like the vine that branched so widely in search of light and has been left in place. How will we know about the present in context, or plan the future, if we can't see the past?

Our visit to this sliver of Knox County came to a close. We returned to Washington and continued our streak of supporting the local Knights of Columbus Treasure Hunt by paying for five numbers and not being drawn. Thankfully, we've seen so much of the money collected put right back into the community for excellent causes. So now they have five more dollars to work with.

Guilty As Charged

After assuring ourselves we were unburdened by a surplus of funds, we went to a beautiful old home nearby and enjoyed hospitality, friendship, and music. That creates an incredibly positive vibe and it was a pleasure to see classmates, neighbors, and friends trickle in with blankets and folding chairs, set up, and enjoy the moment with us.

As a joke, we of the Class of '78 picked up instruments for a photo opportunity. Mr. Joe Howard, classmate and band member in Guilty As Charged, graciously handed out his guitars to us. I was not going to take one, but he said, "Dave. It's a 1959." Quickly figuring the value of what he was offering, I put it on. How often do you get a chance like that!?

Cheers. To a day well spent. And I hope yours was, too.