I told you I like road trips that involve coming across little towns. You can read that one here. Within an hour of the town where I live, there is a little town named Hecker. Actually, it is a village.
It makes me smile to think of an address that reads Hecker, Illinois. I don’t know why. It just does. I have told my husband repeatedly through the years that we should live in the little town named Hecker.
The sign states it has 500 residents. 500 exactly? Really? That is impressive.
It has no Dollar General, no Subway, no Casey’s. Actually it has no gas station. It has Hecker’s Country Store. I’ve driven through early in the morning and saw sweet looking old men drinking coffee on the sidewalk by the front door. We drove to Hecker to visit the Country Store. It was closed. We were sad. Really closed – like the sign was gone. There is a tattoo parlor, though. (In case you were wondering.)
I wanted to ask someone if everyone greets each other by saying “How in the Hecker are ya?” But there was no one there.
So we drove around the streets of cute little Hecker and stopped at this jaw-droppingly beautiful church. It is beautiful on every side. And it has a rectory. I would like to know its history. And I would like to see inside. I will need to drive out to the little village named Hecker on a Sunday morning.
Hecker is 120 years old. It incorporated as a village in 1895. When deciding on a name, they chose to name themselves after Colonel Friederich Franz Karl Hecker. And so it is still today. Col. Hecker was a civil war hero that loved the area.
For some reason I just love that little town. I don’t know one person that lives there and have never stopped my car there before today. But I love it. It is charming.
One who loves little towns