Welcome to Forgotonia

On the last day of school in fourth grade, my class was treated to a grand finale of the school year: a field trip, capped off with a stop at the Tastee Freeze.

The field trip would be on foot rather than on-bus. Our destination was only a few blocks away from Lincoln School. (Actually it was across town, but in a town like Carthage, everything is just a few blocks away.)

It was liberating to be outside on that warm spring day rather than behind our desks. In a single file line, we trekked to the Kibbe Museum, a place that—in theory—was perfect for providing kids with an educational experience.

The museum, it turned out, was actually just a house, a two or three story white house that, on the outside, looked no different from any others in the neighborhood.

I am now aware, as an adult, that this place had been the home of Alice Kibbe, a renowned biology professor at the once-prestigious, but by then defunct, Carthage College. (Read more about the legendary Kibbe here). The place housed all of the  scientific and historical artifacts she had collected over the years.

But when our tour guide explained Mrs. Kibbe’s legacy to our little group, I was probably focused on other, more important things, like whether the boy I liked was ever going to ask me to skate with him. As we meandered through that dark, dusty place, I was more and more anxious for the last part of our trip, which was a visit to the Tastee Freeze across the street.

Suddenly, the boys at the front of our group were really interested in something—I heard “Cool!” and “Whoaa!”—and everyone was gathering around something the guide was showing. I made my way to the front, and sure enough, there it was: the thing Timmy Grissom had been teasing me about all week, but that I swore up and down he was just making up. After all, I was a farm girl and we had a farrowing house, so I knew there was no way such a thing could really exist.

But there it was, staring out for eternity: a two-headed baby pig, nightmarish in its murky formaldehyde bath.

There was a whole animal-fetus collection, I believe, but I’m sure I walked with my head down for the rest of the way so I wouldn’t have to look.

So perhaps I can be forgiven if, for many years after that, I thought of The Kibbe as a kind of carnival fun-house of creepiness.

Now, many years later, the museum is in a different location, is in its second or third incarnation as a tourist destination, and for the last decade has been a place I keep hoping to return to. And there’s a unique item at The Kibbe that helps drum up so much business, the place has been able to build up a strong stream of revenue. Hint: it has nothing to do with freaks of nature. Find out the answer and more in my next post.

Tags: Carthage, CarthageCollege, childhood, essays, IL, local_history, non-fiction, pics, places, religion

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 14th, 2010 at 4:47 am and is filed under Forgotonia Towns, People & Places. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.