I'm fed up with politics and all the shuffling and shifting of positions trying to convince voters that the candidates aren't what we know they are. When are we no longer going to allow politicians to continuously lie and lie. We have "truth in advertising" laws, we have laws against perjury, why not in campaigning? Maybe if we had a law against politicians lying, we would have it a lot easier come election time, but then, Washington DC would probably be a ghost town. I thought I would take the time to remember a boyhood friend from a much simpler and slower time. No computers, cell phones or video games. Few had TV's and fewer had any money to waste on such foolishness. This was a time when the family sat around a big awkward radio (with glowing tubes) and listened to favorites like Boston Blackie, the Green Hornet, the Lone Ranger, Our Miss Brooks. and Jack Benny. Families were much closer and did things together then. Not such a long time ago. Ritchie Nesgoda was two years younger than me but we were friends and played together a lot. We
lived in Duluth, Minnesota on a one-mile peninsula of land stretching toward Superior, Wisconsin.
It was officially named Rices Point and reached toward Stevens Point, similar to two index fingers accusing the other. The St. Louis River flowed between and was spanned by the Interstate Bridge. The one avenue that ran the mile long Rices Point was called Garfield Avenue, so Garfield was also the name of the neighborhood. The avenue was bounded both sides by railroad yards, grain elevators, piers, and scrap yards. It was a wonderful place to grow up. There was no end to the mischief little boys could get into. In those days we had to pretty much come up with our own toys; there was no K-Mart, Walmart, Toys R Us or discount stores so well known now for the brightly colored plastic toys made mostly in China. Fact is, no one on Garfield had the money to spend on toys, so we made do with what we could find and there was no shortage of imaginative games to play.
One day Terry and Guy Juneau and I were playing in the alley behind the Tip Top Tavern when Ritchie came riding up on an old beat up bicycle with no fenders or chain guard. The frame was rusted and the pedals were missing the rubber so all that was left was the metal shaft. It was a beauty. It seems that Bobby, who was Ritchie's older brother swapped a little dog he had found for the bike for Ritchie. It appears that both boys thought they got the best of the deal. Ritchie was so proud of his new steed, he rode up and down the alley while the rest of us looked on in envy. After a while Ritchie started to take pity on the rest of us and decided he would let us ride the magic vehicle for a nickle a ride. Great idea except for one little problem. We couldn't scrape together five cents between the three of us, so Ritchie came up with a solution. He would let us ride on credit. For the rest of the summer we had the greatest time, pant-legs rolled up taking turns riding Ritchie's bike. By the next summer all of us had bikes of one sort or another, usually used but some new. Poor Ritchie never collected a single nickle. Funny how childhood friends hold such warm places in our hearts even though I never saw any of them after I joined the service years later. I often wondered about Ritchie and Bobby, then one day my father sent me a news clipping.
May 10, 1987
Associated Press
NEW YORK — Here, as released by a spokesman for the Polish airline LOT in New York, is a partial list of those killed Saturday in the crash of a Polish jetliner. It includes those that the Polish Foreign Ministry lists as U.S. citizens and those listed as Poles with permanent residency abroad.
Robert Leonard Nesgoda
Richard Joseph Nesgoda
It seems they took a trip to Poland to visit family. A trip that should have been great fun for those two, ended in tragedy. My heart goes out to the Nesgoda family with many thanks for some great memories.
