Large memories of a small town

– Random Writings: Column by Rebecca Lindquist –

It saddened me to learn of the recent passing of former mayor of Mellen, and friend, Joe. I first met Joe when my family moved to Mellen, in 1987, which was his first year in office, beginning a 32-year tenure.

Joe worked at Louisiana-Pacific Corp.’s veneer mill, when I was hired there. He made it a point to come up to me and introduce himself. I remember thinking how nice he seemed and was appreciative of the thoughtful gesture. He was one of the first people I met and it solidified my affinity for the quaint, friendly town.

Remembering this aptly named “little man with a big heart,” brought back many memorable moments of my time spent in Mellen, and the many fun, caring individuals, who wholly embraced me as one of their own, accepting me into the fold, all the while, including me in their crazy antics.

One such loving soul, was a man who worked at the mill on my shift, in a different department, affectionately called, “Pappy.” I found out later, that he, and his wife and boys, were our neighbors, two doors down.

My first interaction with Pappy, I was walking out of the local hardware store as he was passing by, spotting at the exact same time, a gorgeous, fully restored, periwinkle-colored Indian Chief vintage motorcycle. As we each stopped to admire this classic beauty, Pappy looks up with a huge grin, points at it and says, “This bike is b*tchin’!”

I loved that he said that to a complete stranger, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and he had known me forever.

His laugh and the twinkle in his eyes reminded me of my beloved Uncle Bruce, and completely won me over that day. He and his wife never failed to stop to chat, no matter who they were with, any time they saw me after that.

I eventually left the mill to take a job with Chequamegon Credit Union. After a few years, it merged with Superior Credit Union and a drive-thru window was installed. This was exciting news for such a tiny spot on the map. It was a huge change for the former small engines and auto repair building.

Once the window was operational and the gravel parking lot was paved, considerable pedestrians traversed the area, along with various motorized apparatus.

One day, I was manning the window and saw Pappy walking through the lot, carrying two paper bags of groceries. One of the tellers asked me to get his attention, so she could talk to him. I flipped on the intercom switch and said in a deep, loud voice, “PAPPY!”

Pappy came to a dead stop, dropping the sacks, clutched his heart and his head shot straight up to the sky. He just stood there, gazing intently upward, so I repeated his name a couple times and finally added, “Over here.”

The relief on his face was palpable, when he finally noticed me at the window and walked toward me. He said, “Geez, Beck! You scared me so bad, I almost had a heart attack. I thought it was my Maker calling me!”

Pappy had forgotten the credit union had a new drive-thru window and was immersed in his own thoughts, when he heard my loudly uttered command. I couldn’t stop laughing. I didn’t intentionally mean to startle him. I just wanted to make sure he heard me over the noisy highway traffic. Every time he saw me after that, he would shake his head and burst into renewed hearty laughter.

Pappy has been gone many years now, but still holds a special place in my heart. And that bike really was b*tchin’.