Memories
of Steve's
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The group at Steve's had a
club called the "Left Handed Club". Everyone had to use
their left hand to drink their beer. If they were caught using
their right hand they had to put a quarter in the jar. The money
was saved up to have parties. Memory of Frances O'Blak
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Steve's was a butcher shop
prior to Prasniker's owning it. The butcher shop was run by Steve
Simoncic. Memory of Frances O'Blak
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The north end was where we
went when Dad or my uncles wanted a beer. The cribbage games @ Steve's
(Prosnicker) were intense. I would have soda pop and try to win a lucky
gum ball from Steve's gum ball machine. Memory of Joe Lee
Maghe
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We were often along at
Steve’s Place; Daddy would have a beer and Larry and I would get a
Grapette soda (pop) and some kind of snack, like chips, peanuts or
pretzels.
This was a real treat for us. Memory of Dr. Joe Eugene
Lepo
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I remember going into the
cellar at Steve Prasniker's and getting a big cold bottle of Pepsi...
it was the best drink in the whole world... the cellar always smelled
of beer.. a few bottles of which my Dad thoroughly enjoyed!
I remember the glass round gas pump right in front of Steve's where
they pumped gas.. Memory of Jo Ann Burgar
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I live on the corner where my
grandparents (Steve and Josephine Prasniker)had their home and business
( Steve's Place ). One of the most memorable times where the all day
horse shoe pitching contests held beside grandma's house and if it got
too dark then they would put aluminum foil on the pegs and hold flash
lights to see them. My childhood days where full of laughter, smiles,
hugs, parties, friends, family, church, and yes the old thing called
work (gardening and grass
mowing were pure hell for a 60# weakling). One more thing I can still
see
my grandma and Aunt Jennie Chebultz arguing and fussing over a friendly
game of cards and grandma watching as the world turns on t.v. Grandpa
Steve
Prasniker didn't know a stranger, he loved kids, all kids. If a child
would
enter his station they would leave with a pocket full of candy. I can
still
see him crying over the pot and grinder where he would be grinding
horse
radish. Memory of Henry Ashbacher
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