When you look back in time, it’s not always the big inventions or grand buildings that define a place or era, but the small, everyday gestures. Thirty years ago, Owen-Withee was a town where you could count on a wave from passing cars, and the front porch or kitchen was an invitation for neighbors to stop by. Manners, common sense, a strong work ethic, and a spirit of humility weren’t just values taught at home — they were part of the air we breathed.
I remember, as a kid, being scolded not just by my parents, but by nearly any adult in town if I was caught misbehaving. Nobody took offense — it was simply understood that we were all in this together. Today, there’s a little less of that gentle correction and a bit more of everyone keeping to themselves. Courtesy and decency haven’t disappeared entirely, but they don’t seem to fill the streets the way they used to.
If you search your attic or a forgotten drawer, you might unearth a relic: a floppy disk, a dusty VHS tape, or maybe a yellowed paper map of Wisconsin. Typewriters once clacked away in every office, and gasoline was about $1.25/gallon. We’ve traded time for smartphones and Wi-Fi. Life is quicker and gone is the delight of popping a CD into your car radio or the challenge of folding a map back to its original shape.
Remember Blockbuster video rentals? I was never too big into video rentals, but I do recall having a nice collection of 8 track tapes and later still CDs in my car. And gone along with those vanished rituals, a whole parade of store brands has quietly left the stage. Sears Roebuck, once a fixture in small towns and cities alike, where you could buy everything from appliances to school clothes, is now just a memory. Kmart’s blue light specials are gone, too; their aisles emptied and doors closed in most places. I can still picture the old “IGA” grocery signs or Rod Misfeldt’s orange “United Farm Agency” real estate signs. When was the last time you used a pay phone in the gas station parking lot? Remember waiting patiently for the internet to connect with the familiar squeal of dial-up?
What we notice slipping away depends on where we stand. For some, it’s the physical things: the sign above the old hardware store or the disappearance of handwritten letters in cursive. For others, it’s the gentle way people offered help or the habit of showing up to volunteer at every church activity, regardless of the need. Our daily environment shapes what we see vanish; sometimes, we’re so busy looking forward, we don’t realize what’s left behind until someone points it out.
Perspective is powerful. Yet, for all that’s faded, Owen-Withee remains a place where good things quietly persist. The laughter at a summer cookout, the dedication of volunteers at the fire hall or the Lion’s Club or Mason’s. People like Dennis Looker, Brian Bredlau, Grace Dale, Richie Sorenson, and others. The community still rallies in times of need, and decency is found in the everyday moments: a door held open, a casserole delivered to a sick friend, or the simple act of listening.
If you take a moment to look around, you’ll find kindness sprouting in unexpected places. Maybe the faces have changed, and the gadgets are unrecognizable, but the heart of Owen-Withee beats on. There’s inspiration in every corner, from the patience of schoolteachers to the resilience of local farmers, proving that even as some things disappear, others blossom in their place. And the local Mennonites. Values of the past that live on.
As we notice the quiet disappearance of certain trends and treasures, let’s hold onto the best parts of our history and let them inspire us. Smile at a stranger, share a story with someone who hasn’t heard it before. The good in our community may not always make headlines, but it’s here—steady, comforting, and ready to be celebrated. Here’s to finding peace in what remains and joy in what’s yet to come.