Oakland, Iowa is a small town like a lot of other small towns, I suppose. But one thing is for certain about this particular small town–here everything is old.
As I walked down main street, I couldn’t help but be taken back by a dozen or so storefronts that haven’t been touched in forty years. At first, it’s kind of eerie. But that emotion soon gives way to a whole host of friendlier feelings–somewhere between visiting your grandparents and putting on a pair of old boots.
As I continued wandering down main street, I noticed shops with working appliances that had names like Philco and Zenith. As I turned the corner on to a side street, there was a tricycle adorning a front yard proudly bearing the name Radio Flyer. The town’s now abandoned ice cream truck was hand-painted with an iconic image of Bozo the Clown. As I walked through the park, the swing set was worn and rusted–and the slide was replete with dents that stood witness to the time when little boys still got a rush from rolling big rocks down slippery metal slopes.
When a town gets this old, you have to wonder if it’s by choice or by design. In either case, Oakland is a magnificent reminder of things long gone.
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