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I thought I'd break from the Roadtrip memories to share a memory more appropriate to the Back to School season. I vividly recall my very first day of kindergarten. From the time I understood what it meant to go to school I was jealous of my two older siblings who got to go every day and learn how to read and write. I wanted to go to school more than anything, and I could not understand the anxiety my mom had about how I'd handle being away from home and going to school. It was discussed how some children would cry when they would have to get on the bus and that this may continue throughout the day. Why cry? I would wonder. It is school and this is a great thing! I was signed up for afternoon kindergarten since it was a half-day. My stop was one of the first on the route so I would get to watch the bus fill up. My mom got me all ready to go for this important occasion, and when I was suitable we went out to the bus stop. She had a camera, one of those Kodak 110s and posed me in front of the neighbor's yard display. The neighbor's had this old-time plough in their yard all decorated for autumn. I smiled and was beaming. School excited me. When the bus came I think my mom was more nervous and anxious than I was, as if I'd snap and start crying last minute or something. No, not me! I wanted to meet my teacher, I wanted to start learning how to write and read! It didn't happen at first; most of the next couple of kids picked up were with their moms but no one was crying. Then I saw my first extremely upset child, a boy. He was beside himself! This I could not relate to. Surely he didn't understand the great things that awaited at the school! Then more children were picked up that cried and blubbered. Finally we made it to the school and everything moved so slowly. I was disappointed in that all we'd do is paint and color and that no real learning of writing and reading was going to take place! That would be in first grade—a whole year away! Links to other Monday Memories |
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I awoke this morning realizing that one year ago today, at this time I was laying in a hospital bed feeling very anxious. My anxiety was over the impending surgery I was about to have. The first operation for my ileostomy on May 18th had a serious complication: my intestine kinked and I couldn't expel any of my waste. My body had almost shut down entirely 10 days previously, and I sustained additional injuries at my local hospital over the course of a weekend: a collapsed lung and severe dehydration since I was not given any intravenous fluids. When I was transferred to the hospital where I had the original ileostomy surgery they had to fix the collapsed lung and give me two units of blood. I was so dehydrated that my blood pressure was dangerously low and my heart rate was tachycardic. Not the best conditions in which to operate, so for 10 days they gave me food through my veins. Because of the intravenous feedings my blood sugar became diabetic so I was also given periodic doses of insulin. Much of those 10 days are lost in my lack of memories. A combination of narcotics and the severity of my condition turned off my short-term memory. By the time the day of my surgery came, my memory was functional enough to be aware that a huge hurricane was approaching Louisianna. It was like background noise in my mind. I heard about it on the news, Pooky would update me about it, but it was distant. Foremost on my mind were the kittens, getting well again, having to delay going back to school, Pooky not falling apart, and so on. That morning my surgeon came in and I was almost crawling the walls. I asked for a dose of Atavan to sedate my nerves. He complied and I had to wait for that...the waiting was difficult for me. Usually I am not wound-up before surgery, but for this one I was beside myself. The time came and I was taken in to the OR and the anesthesiologist prepared my epidural. After that was over I was put out by the "milk of amnesia". There is this drug that looks like milk that it put into a syringe and as soon as the plunger is depressed it works instantly. Then the nightmare came. When I was roused from the operation I was instantly sat upright (remember, my gut had been opened up wide and so I was slit like a gutted fish) being told by the nurses that the epidural hadn't worked and they needed to remove the catheter. My body had just been stapled back together and to be moved like this—is not something I recommend. I was laid back down and given a dose of the Dilaudid, which did very little for me since I had spent the previous three months receiving frequent doses of it to control the pain I was having from the complications. I had become "immune" to the drug and required a much higher dose, which wasn't feasible without stopping my breathing. So I lied there, crying, screaming, wishing I was out of pain or consciousness. It was late at night by the time I was taken to my room, and I asked if I could be given a sedative to help me sleep. I was given another dose of Atavan and it helped. Only I did wake up from the pain. I recall asking Pooky to stay the night with me. There was no way I could be alone feeling that birds of prey were pecking away at my gut. He slept in the bed next to me. It comforted me to know he was there. The next day I got up and walked around the unit floor. I had to if I wanted more sedative for sleep. I was already in so much pain that I reasoned moving wouldn't make a difference either way. The second surgery will always be a tipping point in my mind. So much of the course of my life was detoured as a result. I am getting back on track, slowly but surely.
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Real Live Cows & Cowboys
On our way out of Chamberlain we took a scenic detour up northward to the city of Pierre. While winding our way through the rolling prairie lands we were startled when we crested a grass knoll area to find ourselves in the midst of a cattle crossing right in the midst of the road.
Real live cowboys were making sure the herd stayed together and got where they were going. The cows weren't afraid of the truck. They swarmed around it and some were even sniffing it. I think some may have even licked it. The cowboys hurried the cows as fast as they could be hurried, but cows more or less mosey, so I was able to snap some pictures of them as it was a very surreal experience for us. In Pierre we basically stopped for lunch, hit a Wal-Mart for more Chiclets to chew (we went through about 10 packages of gum a day) and took in some of the historical features of the town. Our next destination would be The Badlands I'm Petrified  Curious was the dual timelines in the backyard where a collection of petrified wood could be observed. One time line was Creationist, the other Evolutionist. I'm not sure what purpose having both served as the money for admission was taken regardless of your beliefs. The Land Before Time
I called them the Mustard Hills though at the park they had given them a different name. The vivid colorings of the soils came about through different ways, all explained at the sites. Each layer of color represented a period of history. It was mind boggling to think that what we were looking at essentially dirt that was laid down millions of years ago. The terrain long ago was vastly different in appearance. It was difficult for me to imagine this dry land being an ancient sea bed, or to think of large dinosaurs roaming around.
Making a Memory
During one of our roadside stops for a photo op, I brought out the tripod to capture us together. Despite my suggestions of having a little roadside snake to add to our memory-making, Pooky could not be swayed.
The entire experience was like nothing I had witnessed before. I am always astounded, awed, and inspired by the powers of Nature and what She can do. From my human perspective, it seemed like an awfully long time, but then I considered it from Nature's perspective and realize that the erosion process is happening at a rather fast rate. It is hard for me to imagine having a consciousness with a continuity of millions and billions of years. Granted that I believe my soul to be eternal, yet I have only awareness of this incarnation with snippets of memories from past lives, but that hardly gives me a sense of a prolonged period of time. I wonder how much of a brain cloud I'd suffer from if I could remember a million years. As it is, I get confused remembering what I did a couple of years ago. We ended the day by coming to rest in the town of Wall, South Dakota. Our adventure in Wall Drug will be chronicalled in next week's Monday Memory. Links to other Monday Memories |
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Last week I had some business to take care of regarding my future in my graduate program. The administrative wheels are turning and soon a decision should be given whether or not I can resume my studies in September, or if I must wait until January. I left off with us leaving the De Smet area and heading west. Our next stops were in Mitchell and then we stayed the night in Chamberlain.  Mitchell, SD's Claim to Fame
One of the roadside attractions we found out about prior to our roadtrip is the World's Only Corn Palace. The building is decorated in different colored cobs of corn. I seem to recal that the corn is naturally colored. Each year the Palace is given a new look, so it's never the same palace year after year. There's not much to the town of Mitchell or the surrounding area. Which is why the Corn Palace probably exists. It provides much needed entertainment value.
I recall that our drive from De Smet to Mitchell and then from Mitchell to our stopover in Chamberlain was rather uneventful. Though the speed limit on that stretch of I-90 is 75 mph and you can really go however fast you want since it is out in the middle of nowhere, it felt like we crawled due to the fact that the surrounding landscape is so huge that a sense of perspective is changed. I do recall that we were kept entertained by the frequent signs announcing how much closer we were getting to Wall Drug! Following the MissouriWe first encounter the Missouri River back in the 4 State Look Out at White Cloud, Kansas, and we briefly paused to look at it during our quick detour through Kansas and Nebraska on our way to Iowa.
Upon seeing the Missouri, I made the connection that Lewis & Clark travelled this watery route to the Pacific Northwest where our destination awaited for us. I wondered how the scenery must have impacted them when they saw it 200 years ago. I was surprised at first by how "small" the Missouri looked in Kansas, and then how it appeared in South Dakota. It just seemed like any other river, but I was comparing it to the Columbia River through the gorge in which a moderately impressive canyon showcases the Columbia's width. Not to say that the Missouri is a slouch. I had built up what it would be like in my mind since it has a large reputation and associated with a lot of history. We arrived in the afternoon at our hotel in Chamberlain and we took in some scenic photo opportunities. The town was pretty much desolate since it was after 5 pm and on a weekend. It was before the start of tourist season, too, so nothing was set up to receive curious exploring travellers. Next Week's StopWe encounter a real live cattle and cowboys while taking a scenic drive to Pierre and then end our day at Wall Drug!
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Little Town on the Prairie
The Ingalls family headed into the unsettled territory of South Dakota as Pa had secured a job building the railroad. He moved his family into the Surveyor's house by the shores of Silver Lake. The house no longer rest on the shores of that lake. It was moved into the town of De Smet and made into a museum and gift shop. Inside of the house are many items from the time period Laura and her family called it home. It wasn't a very large house, and I recall in the book that eventually Ma took on borders who were coming into the area. It would have been very crowded to fit the Ingalls family into this home, let alone take in more tenants! The Original Homestead
Pa staked a claim outside of town and this is where he built a temporary home called a shanty. The original shanty no longer exists, but evidence of where it stood has been marked. The cottonwood trees that he planted with Laura's help as a wind break still stand.
On the homestead site is another museum with more interpretive displayed. There is a look out tower in which you can see off in the distance the Big Slough. As I stood at the historical marker of the homestead site, I tried to image the scene that Laura had described of Pa mowing the grass out in the Slough, or looking toward the direction of town and seeing Alamanzo's buggy come toward the homestead. After Laura Married
After Laura married Pa continued to work his homestead, but eventually his physical health declined and he built a house within the town of De Smet. The house is also another museum, this one filled with many of the remaining possessions of the Ingalls family, plus the upstairs has belongings that Rose Wilder owned.
Mary and Ma Ingalls lived in the home for many years following Pa's death. I believe they took in the occasional border to help pay for their living expenses. Some items on display that I wish I could have photographed (no photography was allowed) included an item that Mary had crocheted, plus a pattern book of thread crochet that had been owned by Carrie! I still wish I could get a copy of that pattern book Carrie owned! Next Week's StopOur journey through South Dakota was filled with more adventures. Next week we'll stop at Mitchell and visit the Corn Palace and end our day in Chamberlain with an overlook of the Missouri River.Links to other Monday Memories |
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Blue Earth, Minnesota
Before we took off on our cross-country adventure in May 2002, we looked at a few sight-seeing travel books to discover all of the weird roadside attractions off the beaten path. Visiting the statue of the Jolly Green Giant in Blue Earth, Minnesota, is a direct result of my findings.
My fascination with the Jolly Green Giant no doubt is steeped in my childhood memories of the TV commercials featuring little Sprout and the big giant always "Ho-ho-ho"-ing at the end in time with the famous jingle. Plus, by visiting the said statue of Mr. Jolly Green, I could discover what is underneath his tunic! Is he crotchless and smooth like a Ken doll, or did they make him anatomically correct? We arrived in Blue Earth in the late afternoon/early evening. We freshened up and then walked to see the Giant, as our hotel was within walking distance. I almost ran and skipped up to the Giant, I was that thrilled to be in the presence of his green majesty! To find out what is underneath the Giant's tunic, simply click on the image of him! Walnut Grove, Minnesota
From Blue Earth we made our way to Walnut Grove, Minnesota. Perhaps this is the most famous residence of Laura Ingalls Wilder because of the TV show.
The location that Laura and her family lived on the banks of Plum Creek in an earthen dug out is marked by a large sign. The creek has changed course over the last century and washed away the original dug out that the Ingalls family called home for awhile. Currently, the portion of Plum Creek that is identified as being historic is part of a private farm and residence. As for other remains of the Ingalls being in Walnut Grove, such as a house or building, do not exist. The city has a small but interesting museum containing photographs of some of the real people that Laura mentions in the book On the Banks of Plum Creek, including Rev. Alden and Nellie Oleson. There was an interesting display about locust plagues and how frequently a problem they were until modern chemicalization. (If you recall in the book the family lost a crop to a locust cloud.) The town of Walnut Grove is just a wide spot on the prairie road. The wind blew hard and strong during our visit to the town. I recall asking one of the local clerks if it is always so windy, and she replied, "Yes, that's the prairie for you!" I don't think I could tolerate living with wind that takes your breath away. Pipestone & Petroglyphs
Also in Minnesota we visited two different locations that had to do with rocks. Not just any kind of rock, but pipestone. Our first finding was at Jeffer's Petroglyphs. The location Native Americans would carve images on the exposed pipestone rock. It was a self-guided tour through an open field on the prairie. Thankfully there were displays that pointed out the carvings. Some of the images looked very interesting. I found the raging 20 mph wind to be too overwhelming to stay out in the open for very long, and since the visitor's center was closed and we both needed a restroom, we made our visit as quickly as possible.
The second site we found was Pipestone National Monument. Here the local Native Americans had quarries to extract the pipestone from the earth to carve pipes, animals, and other assorted items. The park contained paved trails that followed a small river and led us to a view of a very beautiful waterfall that wasn't very tall. The trail went to the top of the falls and you could peer down onto them. The pipestone quarries in the park are still functioning and local tribes dig out pieces of the rock to make pipes both for use in their ceremonies and to sell to tourists. What was interesting about the town of Pipestone is that many of the buildings were made from the abundant pipestone and so the main street had lots and lots of red and pink exteriors which was totally cool to see.  
Not Your Typical Dutch Windmill As we drove across Minnesota on our way to South Dakota, we came upon fields of windmills off in the distance. I expressed my curiosity at wondering how large the blades were. Well, shortly after I said this we came upon a roadside windmill maintenance station that had some spare blades resting on the ground. I had Pooky stand next to the blade to give a perspective of size. He stands 5'6" (1.70 meters). Next we headed into South Dakota which will be covered over the next two Monday Memories. Links to other Monday Memories |
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It's More Than Cornfields
On our travel across the country we stopped in Iowa to visit with my long-time pen pal who lives in the small town of Bedford. The nearest town to her with a hotel is Clarinda, which also happens to be the birthplace of Glen Miller.
On our way out of Iowa to Minnesota we decided to check out one of the points of interest on our map labeled "Roseman Covered Bridge". We both like covered bridges, waterfalls, and lighthouses and will stop to see one if it is labeled. Also nearby on the map the birthplace of John Wayne was noted. So we could experience two points of interest in almost one stop. As we traveled the arrow-straight roads between fields we passed a sign noting we were entering Madison County. I thought I'd be clever and make a joke: "Ha!" I said, "We're visiting the bridge of Madison County!" I didn't make any connections until we arrived at the Roseman Bridge and discovered that there was a gift shop. We had stumbled upon THE Bridges of Madison County! The friendly clerk at the shop sold us a map of the bridges we must see.      I hadn't read the book or seen the movie so I had no idea what the fuss was all about. All I knew was that I like historical structures and found that our unexpected adventure through the Iowa countryside was one of those special gifts that I will never forget!
The town of Winterset had a true town square and we drove around it looking for a place to have lunch. Being we had no idea I turned on my sense of locating a decent place to eat. I spied the Northside Cafe and thought to myself, "That will do just fine." We went inside and I realized I had made a good choice. During our meal we wondered why people were taking pictures of the exterior and then coming inside to snap more photos. So Pooky asked the waitiress and she gave us a look that said, "You don't know?" then proceeded to explain to us that this was the actual filming location used in the movie. Clint Eastwood himself sat at the bar and ate food! Oh, well not having seen the movie this was lost on us. Having filled our sense of adventure and wonderment, along with our stomachs, we resumed our travel north to Minnesota where we had plans to discover what is beneath the Golly Green Giant's tunic and discover Walnut Grove. Links to other Monday Memories |
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Rocky Ridge Farm
I believe I was about 8 years old when one boring weekend day I asked my sister what was something good to read, because I had tired of reading the same picture books in our book cabinet. She handed me the first book in the Little House series and told me I'd like reading it.
Within a matter of hours I was transported back in time, engrossed in Laura's story of the Big Woods. Making the story all the more exciting and appealing was the fact that Laura was a real person, not someone created by a clever mind. I read about how Ma made cheese, her own soap, how Pa built a smokehouse to cure the meat he had hunted himself. The fact that going to town was such an important life event that I started to reflect on my own life and ponder what living must have been like prior to modern industrial times. I watched the Little House show on TV, enjoying the entertainment value of it, but realized that Michael Landon took a lot of liberties with the Little House books. When I got into my teens, my admiration for the LIW stories didn't end. I found a biography of Laura and came upon the book On the Way Home which is a diary of Laura's recounting their journey from De Smet to their final home in Mansfield, Missouri. Turns out Laura took liberties with her own life as well, which is why her book are regarded as historical fiction and not autobiography.
For as long as I can remember, I wanted to see the real places that Laura called home. It was a bit of a pipe dream to think I'd actually visit Walnut Grove, De Smet, and Mansfield. Then when we moved from Pennsylvania to Washington the chance to make these trips came about and I seized the chance! When the Wilders settle into Mansfield they bought a farm and built the white house known as Rocky Ridge Farm. When Rose, their daughter, grew up, she became a noted writer and with her earnings decided to built her parents a modern home. She bought the entire house from a Sears catalog! Photography inside either home wasn't permitted, and I wish I could have snapped some pictures of the crocheted doilies that Laura had made. Almanzo's woodworking talents were also displayed with the hand crafted furniture he created. It was with great excitement and antipication that we left the farm and journeyed to our next stop, the state of Iowa. Missouri is an interesting state. The winding state highways are lettered instead of numbered, so there were these interesting and confusing signs of "A" "BB" and "Z". Fireworks of all kinds are legal and they were openly sold at giant gas stations. We went inside one and not only could you buy bulk roman candles, but cartons of cigarettes as well as fuel. Yes, lighters and matches were everywhere to boot. Made me think it was all a major explosion waiting to happen! The Great Turtle Migration of Missouri And the morning we left Missouri to travel to the next state we kept encountering numerous box turtles crossing the country highways. I think we counted 3 dozen turtles that morning. It was very peculiar. None of them were dead. Most were on the shoulders of the road, some in the lane. All of them were simply travelling from one side to the next. Never was there a group or pair of turtles. Just single turtles. I finally had to stop and get a picture of one.
Next week the great adventure continues in Iowa where we discover the birth places of John Wayne, Glen Miller, and stumble upon the Bridges of Madison County Links to other Monday Memories |
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Our Elvis Experience
I'm not a real Elvis fan. I have seen some of his movies. I have heard his songs, yet I am more fascinated and curious by the popularity of Elvis. Which is why I wanted to tour Graceland. Elvis lived larger than life. He had his own style, and wore flamboyant clothing that on any other man would be construed as being gay. But Elvis carried it off with ease.
Just about any souvenir or item you can think of has been Elvis-tized. I found an Elvis shaped cookie cutter at one of the many gift shops across the street from Graceland. It's almost surreal. Our tour to the mansion was on a rainy day. When we got inside the house I was amazed at how small it really felt, but then we were only allowed to walk through hallways and look into rooms behind a velvet rope. The Jungle Room had to be the weirdest. All of the walls were carpeted in a thick green pile. Even the stair tower. The kitchen was preserved from the 70s. Olive appliances, yellow and orange. A special building housed Elvis' records and suits. I always thought he wore polyester jumpsuits. Turns out that they were really a fine wool blend. My favorite was the gold lame suit. Found Downtown One of the most curious things we found was a street named November 6th Street. That just happens to be Pooky's birthday. It's just an alley that suddenly ends and then picks up again on the other side of buildings. I didn't find out about the history behind the name until a couple of years later.
Duck March
I had heard about the famous Peabody Hotel marching ducks. Twice a day the ducks march: in the morning they descend from their mallard condo and swim in the hotel's fountain. In the evening they march back up to their penthouse and do whatever it is that ducks do.The hotel was grand and I wish we could have stayed there. We had fun exploring all of the stuff that was open to the public. I was amazed at how many people came to see the ducks march. It's quite the tourist attraction!
Real Barbecue Memphis is known as being the place to go to eat barbecue. So we grabbed some local brochures and decidedt o try barbecue at a place called Neely's. I was new to the world of barbecue so I had no idea what wet or dry ribs meant. I only knew I wanted ribs. Lots and lots of ribs!
Looking back on our visit to Memphis, I would now want to eat at other barbcues because I can't get enough of slow cooked meat and secret formula barbecue sauces. We left the state of Tennessee and drove through Arkansas on our way to stop at Mansfield, Missouri, the final home of Laura Ingalls Wilder, which will be next week's Monday Memories. Links to other Monday Memories |
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 After the Derby
We arrived in Kentucky in the afternoon and made our way to Churchhill Downs, site of the famous Kentucky Derby. The Derby had taken place the Saturday before our arrival. We took the tour of the race track and spent some time inside of the historic museum.
Being a professional jockey has got to worse than a fashion model. The men starve themselves so that they can remain paper thin. Somehow they are strong enough to drive a one-ton animal at 35-40 mph, too. What I liked best was the tradition of the Southern ladies wearing gaudy hats. Being a Shrone, I am drawn to outrageous headgear. We placed a bet on one of the horses that was racing that afternoon. We didn't win. It was fun to see a real-live horse race! KFC HQ
While in Kentucky I figured that it would be a good thing to slink on over to the KFC Headquarters and go tour the Colonel Sanders museum. Only thing is, the museum thought they needed to be closed because of 9/11—even though it had happened over six months' earlier! Well, we got to step inside the Colonel's office and I sat at his desk and the secretary took our picture standing around the fiberglass colonel likeness, and as a token for not letting us into the museum, she gave us a sheet of postcards (retail value $1). Inside of the musem I could see they had the Colonel's original white suit. I wonder if they had a preserved cooked chicken, too?
 It's Greek to Me The next day we were in Nashville and we stopped in the downtown to get a gander at what it looked like. While roaming the streets we saw a Willie Nelson look-alike and I snuck a picture of him.
Seems that there was more historical stuff to see in the downtown of Nashville, if we only knew what to look for, such as that during the Civil War, legalized prostitution was enacted to help prevent the spread of STDs.
During our visit a bunch of local school kids swarmed the building and it was weird hearing the teacher explain things to the unsuspecting children. All of that controversial stuff about Goddesses and their symbology was left out because there is just too much about Greek culture that is upsetting by southern standards. Once we were finished with seeing Athena we had lunch at Fuddrucker's. I fondly recall our meal there because they make the best burger in the country. We departed to Memphis where we were headed toward our Elvis Experience. |
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 An Apple A DayAfter visiting my great-great grandmother's grave site up in Pleasant Lake, we headed to Fort Wayne were we spent the night. We discovered that Fort Wayne doesn't switch over to Daylight Time, and so we had no idea really what time we should be on, but nonetheless, we figured it all out.
On our trusty road atlas we found that our hotel was very close to the resting place of Johnny Appleseed. I thought it would be cool to visit this and see what kind of tribute would be available for a photo op.
At first I thought they had dismantled the memorial to Johnny, because we investigated the park and found nothing of interest that would indicate Mr. Appleseed had been laid to rest. As we were leaving I saw the historical marker pointing to his gravesite! So with a swift U-turn we doubled back and were able to scope out the area in which he lies in peace. Factual information about John Chapman an be found here. |
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 Day Two: Niles, Ohio, Where Boredom is Manufactured
On our first night of the roadtrip we stayed in Niles, Ohio. This town's claim to fame is being the birthplace of President McKinley. We visited the presidental library erected in his honor. While we took pictures of the statues, the people inside the library gave us queer looks and must have regarded us as idiots or incredibly too happy people. My impression was that the town had consumed too much sedative and that the large factories is where all of the boredom gets made.
When we drove across the state of Ohio, I couldn't get over how flat it was! There were farms scattered everywhere, but this didn't make the landscape interesting. The flatness disturbed me and I was glad we got through Ohio quickly. We didn't have anything we really wanted to see in Ohio. We were heading toward Pleasant Lake, Indiana, to see the gravesite of my great-great grandmother, Lydia Biery. Finding Lydia
As a child I often thought that the drawing that hung in the house hallway was of my mother. Many people who came to visit would comment on what a nice drawing of my mother, only to find out that the woman in the portrait was Lydia Biery, an ancestor on my maternal grandmother's side of the family tree.
Lydia was married to Theophilus E. Biery, a physician. He served in the Civil War. Both were originally from the Ohio area (I think they probably sensed the boredom and moved to Indiana). The family story was that she died due to taking some medicine from her husband's cabinet as she wished to terminate an unwanted pregnancy; this story is now urban legend. The real cause of Lydia's death I was able to find from this posting on at a geneology site.
When I found out that Lydia was bured in Pleasant Lake and was left there, I felt the need to stop by and say hello to her, that she hadn't been forgotten, although it had been about 150 some odd years since anyone took notice of her. We almost drove past the town because it was just a wide spot in the road. We found the cemetery once we got into the town, but we soon realized we had no idea where her marker was located. Luckily a caretaker was present, but he told us that it was unlikely they had records dating that far back, so Pooky and I split up and decided to look for large markers since T.E. was a doctor. Pooky was the one to locate the stone. It had considerably eroded, but the text was legible enough to make out the name and dates. I am not able to decipher the saying at the bottom. The town of Pleasant Lake is now a ghost town. The main street had buildings that once had businesses.  
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Naturally, the town was quite "dead" since it was the beginning of May. We went to Gobbler's Knob and went on the official Phil stage, and in the town square we saw the Real Phil, only it was hard to tell which was the real one because there were 3 or 4 groundhogs in the cage. I wanted to buy Phil souvenirs, but the town had none to be had. Apparently they are only available during the one day of year that people visit this town. Interesting to note, the movie Groundhog Day was not filmed in the town of Punxsutawney!
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 In the early 1980s my mom worked at the local grocery store. Our town was so small that we had just two supermarkets: a Safeway and then a family owned business. She worked at the family owned one. She therefore brought home new items and a bag of groceries just about every day. One item that I had to constantly eat was Nabisco Dixie Drumstick crackers. They were shaped like chicken legs and they had a chickeny-salty seasoning on them that I couldn't get enough of. Then they were discontinued. Why must products go away into the annals of history? So many great foods have been lost due to the trends of the day. But recently while trying to find out about my memory of these crackers I discovered that Nabisco still manufactures them in Australia! I don't know if I'll order any from the available sites that list them for sale, but I am tempted. I've long since forgotten how they actually tasted. All I recall is how delicious they were, how I constantly ate them. The seasoning was so yummy that I'd eat the crumbs in the box! |
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I didn't know Mrs. Walker very well. She lived across the street from my familial home, down a very long, tree covered driveway that had a very spooky and mysterious aura about it. The driveway went past the Johnson's house and they kept a vicious German shepard who would attack, so going to visit Mrs. Walker was not easily done, unless you wanted to be chased by the dog. Once you got to the end of the very long driveway and braved the spookiness of the trees, you would arrive at a little house, more like cottage, tucked inside a stand of trees that to me was The Forest. Mind you I was less than 5 years old during this visit I recall having with her. Mrs. Walker was a typical elderly lady, living alone, but she did have the Johnson family who looked out for her. I believe she had been married, her husband having died many years before. I don't think she had any children. All I know is that she was old. Older than my own grandparents. Older than the neighbor lady, Roberta, with whom I would frequently visit. I recall during this visit that was made with my sister and brother, that Mrs. Walker talked to them more than me, as I was a shy child, and I really was afraid of old people back then. I wish I had paid better attention to what she talked about. Looking back on it now, I think she would have been a great resource for local history. She had lived in her cottage house for many years and had witnessed many changes. Her house was typical "old lady" in that it was filled with things that young children weren't permitted to touch. By no means would she have been mean to me if I had broken something. She was soft-spoken, kind, gentle. If I could travel back in time I'd like to redo that afternoon with her, be more aware of what was going on, not be so afraid, and ask her as many questions as my mind could generate. And I have no idea what her first name was. I just knew her simply as Mrs. Walker. |
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My best friend in grade school, up until 7th grade, was Susan. She was born on September 16th, and I was born on September 19th. We were like two peas in a pod. Together we loved Garfield, and we'd make up songs and play Spy International, a made-up spying agency that we became obsessed with. We never spied on anyone, but we would make up these quizzes and give them to each other about how to be a perfect spy and other such silliness. Our hero was Carl Sagan. We thought he was the bee's knees. She was tested first for the gifted program and was admitted. A year later I was tested and also admitted. We got along swimmingly. We'd call each other almost every evening on the phone, although we had spent the day together at school. We never did do routine sleep-overs, in fact, I only spent the night at her house once, and she never stayed over at mine. In 7th grade I began to really question Christianity and since she was involved in a fundamentalist church, we began to clash. The unrelenting questioning of religion was too much of a strain and we split apart. What was interesting to me is after our friendship ended, she started hanging out with kids who were a lot more relaxed than I was and it seemed she had her own rebelous phase in high school. We were still in touch through our freshman year in high school. I recall her calling me to say that her mom was pregnant! It was a shock to us both to say the least. I had been 11 years old when my younger brother was born. She was 14 when her younger sister was born. The last I had heard about her, through reading the local newspaper, is that she had married her high school sweetheart and in 2003 had given birth to a son. She apparently is a teacher in the state of Oregon. |
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