When his father bought
the old Dyas place at 413 W. Campbell in 1912,
it was at the end of town.
The Csanadi's three acres,
fronted by wood sidewalks and mud street,
went through to Sigwalt.
Westward was Fiene's farm,
manure piles, haystacks, cornstacks and cricks.
Morning and evening, nine-year-old Steve
shagged the family's two cows to and from pasture
near the creek where Ridge Road would come through.
The bovine route of least resistance introduced
gentle irregularities into the town's
When Fienes subdivided,
an auctioneer rode a hayrack
from lot to lot along Sigwalt
east from Ridge, extolling each location,
calling out for buyers.
He tossed a silver dollar
to everyone who bid.
In the end,
he sold every lot up to State Road.
A pioneer schoolteacher
in Rolling Meadows,
she coped with a multitude of children
and a magnitude of mud.
Beginning the year
in the model house at Campbell and Meadow Drive
which housed first grade,
she'd face a handful of eager learners.
By spring she'd have ninety slippers
lined up each morning
for youngsters who shed their mudcaked boots
Her quota: three pairs of shoes each day.
One for the car.
A second for the mud.
A third, to look
presentable in class.
When the superintendent came
he'd yell his instructions
from his open car door.
"I'd have to go to the door
to shout out what was going on
or what I needed."
He had only one pair of shoes.