Sixty-one years ago, spring 1956, I lived here in Mukwonago, Wisconsin. This is my first visit since we left. My dad Max Ririe had a consulting job that had lasted several months. He brought Mother, my two sisters and me along to keep him company for the last couple of months. It was April, still winter 30 miles southwest of Milwaukee, and my sister Linda and I had two more months of school. We were in third and first grades, respectively. To my delight, we shared the same classroom in a tiny two-room school. I could hardly believe they still existed!
Our family lived in a two-bedroom resort cabin somewhere on this lake. After the snow melted and school ended, life improved. Linda and I played endlessly under the big shady trees and at the lake, paddling about in a rowboat. It was idyllic in the summer of 1956!
Moving and finishing first grade in a two-room school was challenging, just one of many challenges life extended to me, not the least of which is glaucoma and low-vision. In Mukwonago I learned I could face hard things and grow.
This visit was a side trip. My husband Rog, grandson Ryan and I had flown into O’Hare and were heading north to Milwaukee to pick up son Stuart, then meet daughter Katrina and three more grandchildren in Nauvoo, Illinois, the following day. Passing so close to Mukwonago, I couldn’t resist dropping by. I am writing a memoir of my early life, so this is book research. Next visit, I want to stay longer and find my old haunts.