We noticed a billboard for this museum on our way down to Moab and thought it would be a great way to spend an hour or two when we made our return trip. We even checked it out online and saw all the model trains and decided that since it was right on our way, there's no way we shouldn't go. So when we finished hiking the dinosaur trail, we began our trip home, stopped at a park for our picnic lunch and a little play time, then went to Helper, UT, eager to see some model trains.
But there were no model trains to be seen. Apparently the museum was recently expanded and during the move, the model trains got all jumbled, and weren't even on display. At least we saw the tracks.
And we saw some other railroad paraphernalia.
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| Engine lanterns. |
Most of what was on display were items of local significance. There were old photos, trophies from the high school marching band or baseball championships, old doors, etc. One item that caught Ben's and my attention was a project an elementary school project a boy completed that mapped out the locations of the deaths during a big accident in a nearby coal mine.
According to one exhibit we saw, Helper had quite a reputation...
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| Jack looks like he got a little tipsy just by touching the moonshine jugs! |
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| The basement was being supported by these beams in one room. We didn't stay down there for very long... |
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| I just liked these signs. |
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| Most of the coal mining stuff was in the basement. |
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| Too bad we didn't have time to stay and watch the VHS tour of the museum. |
We had promised each child that they could choose one souvenir to take home from our trip. Since we cut the trip a little short, though, we'd left Moab without buying any souvenirs. This tiny municipal museum actually had a little gift shop, and Jack picked out this toy train, which made him very happy. Then I asked him to pose for a couple of pictures with this train car before we left, and he kindly obliged.
Part of me didn't want to write about our trip to this museum in the itty bitty town of Helper, UT. When I told Ben, his reply was, "be nice." I think we are both tempted to make fun of the place, but I can't really do it. I have such a soft spot in my heart for rural America after living in the Village of Clayton, IL (population 860) for a few months when Cat was a baby. It's sad to me that these little towns, which were once important in some way or another, are just disappearing. The museum volunteer in Helper who showed us around the main floor of the museum was so proud of his town. He told us that he's the oldest living resident who was born there. I can only imagine how many of the people he knew growing up, or his children knew growing up, have left town to go to a bigger city.
And even though I consider myself more of a city girl than not, I have to admit that there is a part of me that longs for that small town life that existed until the mid-twentieth century. Clayton was definitely part ghost town by the time we lived there, but I enjoyed walking to the library, which was in half of an old house across the street from where we lived (the other half of the old house was a dentist office) and saying hello to Esther, the 80-year-old librarian, every week or so. I liked that I didn't have to worry about traffic noise or traffic jams or dangerous busy roads. I liked that I could walk to the post office (well, I kind of had to because there were no individual mail boxes in the town) or the hair salon (which I avoided for most of our stay in the town, until I absolutely had to have a haircut and I went there out of convenience... and I happened to get one of the best hair cuts I've ever had. Go figure.) or the town square. I liked driving by farms and seeing people who work hard for a living every day. And I really liked meeting people who loved living there.
We were zoned for the Quincy Ward, but we were about 30 minutes from the "big city" of Quincy. Two of the families we lived closest to were actually retired couples, who each invited us over for dinner, and we loved it. They were kind and generous and eager to meet new people and share their stories. We still send a Christmas card to one of those couples who particularly touched our hearts.
So thanks for indulging my reflections and my little trip down memory lane. But perhaps that helps you understand why I didn't want to write this post in a spirit of sarcasm. I think it's wonderful that the good people in Helper have worked so hard to preserve their history. And we really enjoyed getting to learn a little bit about it.
