Page 7 - Demo

IntroductionI first became intrigued with attics as I a young kid, when my family lived in the small northwest Indiana town of Fowler. It started at Grandpa and Grandma Mendy%u2019s house%u2014a small, late-Victorian, frame home. The upstairs was unheated, and consisted of two bedrooms with variously sloped-ceilings, a short hallway, and two irresistible walk-in attic spaces. Throughout her life, Grandma saved everything under the sun, and stored it neatly away in her attic cubbyholes. Assortments of odds-and-ends%u2014far too precious to throw out%u2014were tucked into shoe boxes, cookie tins, cardboard cartons, old dressers, and mothball-laden wardrobes. The smallest items went into match boxes or aspirin tins. There was an historical archive of postcards, greeting cards, and letters, all organized by year and tied neatly into bundles with string. She also squirreled away outdated military uniforms, decades-old hats, yellowing newspapers (with historic dates), and grade-school projects. In one drawer, I found small boxes of costume jewelry carefully wrapped in tissue paper, glass vials containing tiny sea shells sorted by color, 31/2 sets of false teeth, and dozens of used pencils (some sharpened down to nubs, but none with teeth marks). In short, those two attics were a veritable museum%u2014an archeologist%u2019s or small boy%u2019s dream%u2014and I loved exploring them. Although we moved 30 miles away from Fowler just after I entered first grade, to the (comparatively) large city of Lafayette, I continued visiting those attics well into adulthood. After I married Lynn (also a curious a soul), she readily joined me on trips to Fowler for visits, cutthroat games of Uno, and attic forays. No matter how many times I explored, I always found something that I%u2019d never seen before. Those attics mesmerized me, and they foreshadowed a curiosity about the upper levels of buildings that would endure for decades.By the time I ended my elementary-school years, Weber%u2019s Hobby Shop had become a favorite haunt. It offered everything from plastic model kits, to balsa wood, to finely detailed HO-gauge steam engines. During my modelairplane phase, someone suggested forming a club. The idea probably originated with my friend Tony, who worked part-time at Weber%u2019s. After a few people expressed interest, Tony hung a sign-up sheet in a prominent location in the store, and we spread the word to others when out flying our planes on weekends. As enthusiasm grew, Mr. Weber offered his store%u2019s second floor as a meeting room, and the Lafayette Cloud Jockeys was born.All I remember about the club is that most of the members were older guys, and the meetings were tedious and boring. But I still remember Mr. Weber%u2019s upstairs. Like many downtown businesses, the hobby shop only occupied the first floor. Although I had been patronizing the place for a few years, I had never considered the fact that there might be anything more to the building than the ground level.