road-trip

This country.

~ yellowlamplight ~ 3 Comments

I had a few more blogs I wanted to write about our road trip. Some food stops we made. A quirky place called Carhenge–definitely hope you look that one up. I really wanted to write an entire blog about where we ended our trip. My husband’s brother and his wife’s. They were our people when our kids were young. We got together for all the fun holidays and spent minutes and hours and days loving each other’s kids. Ate countless dinners together and melded in a way that can’t be undone. Walking into their house after that long trip was like coming home and shedding years all at the same time. They were just another piece of that crazy, road trip week that was perfect. I wanted to do all of that, but my youngest grandson got sick and I spent a week rocking that little man and wiping his nose and taking some weight off his parent’s shoulders. So, I didn’t get my last few blogs written and I thought about trying to squeeze them all in today, but I wasn’t feeling it. And, it was very important me to get this last road trip blog done before the election tomorrow. So, here’s the thing. We need tomorrow to work. To do its American thing. No subterfuge. No violence. No funny business. Just American citizens standing in line to vote. Minutes. Hours. Days. Whatever it takes, because it’s that important. It’s that important because America is kinda a big deal. I’m not saying she’s perfect. Of course she’s not. Neither are you. Neither am I. None of us are. But, as long as there is freedom there is the opportunity to get up every morning and try again. To fix what’s wrong. To make things better. And, America is not the guys in suits or the women either. The ones on TV. The ones so sure they know better than everyone. The ones that are trying to turn us against each other. You know they are. ( Did you read any of the comments under your family’s posts on Facebook the last couple of weeks? Or years?) No, America is Annette in Kansas and the quiet motel clerk in Wisconsin and all of the people painting their barns red in Iowa. It’s the crowds at Wall Drug laughing with their family and drinking drinks and making memories. It’s the guy who sold you carpet last week and the waitress serving you enchiladas tonight. It’s your Uncle Paul and the lady giving piano lessons at the church. Tomorrow, take a minute to look at the people around you. Really look at them. See if you can see America. The resolve that made those men hang off the cliff so we could take our families to Mount Rushmore. The dedication to work a not fun job with a cheerful heart and kindness. The courage to run into a scary moment instead of away from it. That is America. I’ve mentioned before that I spent many years living in a place where hurricanes happen way too often. Because of that, I learned that the folks who offer to row in and save you when your house is flooding and you’re on your roof are your countrymen. The people who show up with food and gift cards and a shovel when you need it most. So, when you pull that curtain tomorrow, vote your conscience but don’t drink the kool-aid. Don’t let TV people change how you feel about your fellow Americans. I might be in line with you. Seriously. I didn’t early vote. I was busy with that sweet baby boy that I love with my whole heart. I want him to grow up and be a part of this great experiment. I want that young girl from Ukraine to come back in a few years for another summer job. And, in four years, I want to be standing in line to vote. Minutes, hours, days. Whatever it takes. Maybe, by that time, we will have all wised up to the TV people and they, with an appropriate air of meekness, will be rowing their boats to make things better and not just stay in power. After all, in America, every morning is another opportunity to try again.

Bavarian Inn, Black Hills

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We got home from vacation and I got busy. Then, I got sick. Probably the same thing all of you have had. Sneezing, coughing, I want my mom kind of sick. I would blame the man from Wall Drug, but there was enough of a delay that I am giving him the benefit of the doubt. All of this is to explain why my entries about our road trip suddenly stopped. However, today, I am feeling well enough that I don’t want to be sick, but still too sick to really do anything. So, here I am. I hope it goes well. I want to do our last few stops justice, but my mood is different. I’m crankier and less relaxed. Less able to remember the little details of those days. Thankfully, as I’ve mentioned, I am a prolific picture taker. And, in with the fence post and random gas pump pictures, there are some that take me right back to where I was. Thank God. Because, where I was in these pictures was really, really good. In the first one, there were storm clouds gathering and thunder rumbling. Our suitcases were in the room behind us and it was bright and cheerful and ours for a few days. The sweet girl who had just checked us in spoke with a delightful accent and loved our puppy. We didn’t know it then, but we would see her again the next morning at breakfast and again, a couple of days later, at a pizza joint downtown. Each time, she would be wearing the same high wasted jeans and sweet smile. At the pizza place, we would find out that it was her last night in America. The next day she would catch a flight back home to Ukraine. If she had uncertainty about what was waiting we never saw it. All we saw was her joy. All we heard was how much she enjoyed her summer in the states. How excited she was to start university. We asked if she would ever come back and she shrugged her shoulders. With sparkling eyes she told us she didn’t know, but she waved away our immediate frowns. “It is good I’m here now. You are all in my heart when I go home.” she told us. “Your cute puppy, the beautiful waters and all the nice customers.” We loved her all we could with our smiles and jokes and warm waves goodbye. She was balancing several empty plates and laughing with a coworker as we left. Joyful still. I confirmed with my husband that he had way overtipped her and went home thinking how the news headlines never capture the humanity of anything. Stories about Ukraine hit different when you’re thinking about a precious girl with worn out high wasted jeans and a love for America so big it hurts your heart. That’s why I love this picture so much. At the moment I took each of these pictures she was right there. Waving up to us from the parking lot. Smiling at how pleased we were with our lovely breakfast. Just a kid working her summer job and saving every penny for the future. Could have been my kid. Or yours.

Perry, Iowa (Hotel Pattee!)

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I suppose we all get mired down in our individual lives. Bills to pay. Strawberries to buy. Soccer games to attend. We go busily about our days and, sometimes, forget that there is a group of people in the world who remember that it is important to protect beauty for the sake of beauty. On our road trip, we found just such a group of people in Perry, Iowa. I wish I could tell you more about the town itself, but I can’t. Instead, I can tell you about the Hotel Pattee and tell you to make it a goal to spend a night there. I did. In the Telital room. It’s a room based around a man who loved journalism. There are old newspapers on the walls and a beautiful old roll top desk that I spent quite a bit of time with while I was there. Yes, I opened every drawer. Yes, I thought about leaving a secret note for whomever came next. Yes, I pretended I was a newspaper reporter from bygone ages with important copy to get out. I loved that room. You can go to their website and see it for yourself. Or, better yet, you can go yourself. You could book the Circus room or the Louis Armstrong suite. Their rooms all have a theme and they are beyond delightful. There is a coffee table book down on the front counter you can buy so you can peruse them long after you’re home. I’d highly recommend that. I’d also recommend petting the three legged dog that wanders the property and has his own bed just inside the back door. I’d definitely have a delicious dinner in their cafe. Enjoy the heavy glasses and the wood work and the carpet your feet sinks into. Take time to admire the intricate wood carvings on the back of each booth and the train that runs the perimeter of the dining room. Marvel at the breathtaking chandeliers and go down in the basement to look at the gorgeous tile work on the spa area and peek through the doors at the old fashioned bowling alley that you can still play on. Exhaust your husband with proclamations like, “Can you believe this?” and “They just don’t make things like they used to.” and “We have to bring the kids here. Can you imagine what the boys would think?” Go outside into the beautiful courtyard and beat your husband soundly at corn hole and wander through their sculpture garden. Take your makeup off in a beautiful black and white tiled bathroom that makes you feel like a fancy starlet and go to bed thanking God that there are still people who understand it’s important to protect beauty for the sake of beauty itself. I did and I also told the ladies thank you before we left the next morning. “You guys are important,” I told them. “We all need you. Especially lately.” They smiled and were gracious and told us to drive careful. Probably thought I was a little strange. Probably, I am. Especially since, I must admit, I shed a few tears as we maneuvered our way out of their tiny parking lot. Why? I’m not sure. I guess I am afraid we are getting too far away from that place that will make us drive an extra couple of hours to see a place like Hotel Pattee. There’s no mall there. No big sporting events or tourist attractions. It’s just a hotel in a small town in Iowa. Somewhere nobody would go without an intention to do so. I owe it to my parents that I did. They taught me to appreciate places like Hotel Pattee and I am so thankful they did. I’ve tried to do the same with my own children, but I’m not sure I have succeeded. Competition is fierce. But, I will keep trying. Because it is a valuable thing when wood gleams and windows have diamond inserts that make rainbows on plush carpet in the afternoon. Fresh flowers on every table. Amazing rooms that let you live a different moment in another place. All of it. Hotel Pattee holding the line against mundane and cookie cutter nights spent in chain hotels. I hope her doors are always open and I hope I’ve made you want to do your part to make that happen. If you take some good pictures please share! My husband drew the line at me asking to visit every room and I feel like I missed out!

Two Rivers, Wisconsin

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When I am an old lady (way sooner that I’m comfortable with!) and I think back on Wisconsin I will remember flowers and lighthouses and nice people. A different flavor of nice, but nice all the same. I say that because they are not walking towards you friendly in Wisconsin. They are more two steps back and then a smile kind of nice. I noticed this, first, with the young man who checked us into our room. Our motel was the kind of place where your room door opens onto the parking lot and a decorator was not consulted about anything. There’s a microwave that looks like somebody might have used it at college first. The beds are the old-fashioned kind you better check under for puppies and socks before you leave–we found both. The shower squeaks and bangs before it starts and none of that matters because once you cross the parking lot and a small street you are on the shores of Lake Michigan. That is a sight you won’t soon forget. I couldn’t get over folks talking about going down to the beach of a lake. But it’s there. Anyway, I digress. Back to the young man who checked us in. It was pouring rain when we arrived and tumbled into his lobby dripping and exhausted. Darkness had long since settled and it was that time of night when hotel lobby folks are in the back room watching tv or doing their homework. This one wasn’t. He was clicking clacking on a computer. Took way longer than i expected to look up and then didn’t smile. He kinda looked like a chubby version of that famous character Spicoli from Fast Times.(If you don’t get that reference you won’t be old as fast as me!) Looked like him but with none of the natural bounce of Spicoli. Nope. This kid found nothing amusing about two wet Texans in his lobby. Polite, but not amused. Or friendly. That never stops me. I told him we were first time visitors to Wisconsin and asked him what we should do in the area. What he recommended. He stared at me for a minute and then lumbered over to the wooden display rack and gathered up several flyers. He shoved them into my hands, gave my husband our room key and informed us it was too late to get any food close. Ten minutes later, when I was back to buy some microwave popcorn and a candy bar from his little store, the computer was once again click-clacking. I tried to start a conversation again to no avail. Back to my room in the rain to eat my nutritious meal and listen to the shower screech. Fished the puppy out from under the bed and was already asleep when my husband got out of the shower and informed me there was only one towel. “One of us is going to have to go to the office and get more.” he informed me. Not gonna be me I thought and then fell asleep again– exhausted I’ve been in the car for days kind of sleep. Didn’t wake up until I smelled coffee the next morning. My husband had already been down to the office where, he informed me, there was now a lady working and he had gotten a stack of towels. “Was she nice?” I asked without opening my eyes. This was one of those questions I ask my husband that he never understands. He honestly doesn’t care if people are nice. If they have a family. How long they’ve worked at a place. He just cares if they are doing their job. “She gave me coffee and towels.” was his reply. I stuck out my hand, took the coffee and the first of our three days in Wisconsin began. It was a blur of one beautiful place after another. We had coffee at a charming coffee house around a fire that was completely necessary. (You probably didn’t appreciate that sentence enough if you’re not from Texas!) We walked along the beach of Lake Michigan and the puppy barked at water. We got ice cream late one night at a wonderful old-fashioned ice cream parlor called Beernsten’s the was something from a kid’s best dream. Glass jars of different chocolates lined every counter. We saw red lighthouses and gorgeous hydrangeas casually growing beside the road like they wouldn’t cost me a fortune back home. We wore light jackets and shivered and talked, mildly seriously, about whether we would want to live in Wisconsin. (No, because of the winters!) Stopped one night to watch a full moon rise over Lake Michigan and felt our throats catch at the peaceful beauty. Smiled at the other folks watching the same thing and pleasantly frittered time away as vacationers do. So much so that, suddenly, it was our last night in our homely room that had started to feel like home. I packed and then, to celebrate, I told my husband I was going to get popcorn. I hadn’t been back to the office since that first night and I wondered on my way over if our friend Spicoli would be there. He was. Click-clack. But this time, when I walked in, he stopped typing and looked up at me. And, he talked. “Sooo, what did you guys do?” He said with a real interest. I stared at him for a moment and then answered, “We ate cheese curds.” All the wonderful things we had done and seen and that’s all I could come up with. “We ate cheese curds.” He nodded his head and that was that. Click-clack. I gathered up my popcorn and another candy bar (We were on vacation!) and asked him to charge them to my room. He told me, “I got you.” And then, just as I was about to go outside, he added, “Wisconsin is cool. Come back.” But he smiled. A real smile. I smiled back. A happy Texan and a quiet kid from Wisconsin. I couldn’t wait to tell my husband about the interaction even though I knew he wouldn’t care.

Dyersville, Iowa

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Our next stop started with a search for a good half way point to stretch our legs and get some lunch. Dyersville, Iowa and the movie set for the Field of Dreams seemed like a perfect place to do that. I know, I know another movie set. But, to be honest, I was still feeling a little bit guilty for making my husband trek all over the place looking for those bridges. So, when I discovered we could stop and see the house and, even better, the baseball field they used in the movie I couldn’t pass it up. I didn’t tell him where we were going but promised him there would be food and a place to walk the puppy. About halfway there, I got tired of reassuring him that he would like the place and just told him where we were headed. (I think there was some lingering distrust from the storm situation.) He asked the usual husband questions. Are you sure it’s open? Are we allowed to be there? How much does it cost? I answered every question and crossed my fingers. It could have gone either way. A $45 dollar entry fee and a lame Field of Dreams sign in front of a corn field could have awaited us. That, actually, would have been just my luck. Especially since it was twenty-five miles off our route! If you have a husband, you know that that is fifty miles total and better be worth it. It was. It so, so was. The first lady we met looked exactly as you would hope she would. Hair on top of her head and eyeglasses with the points out to the side. She greeted us and told us we could make a donation if we wanted or just drive on in. I got out the suggested twenty dollars, but when she told us the next man we met would be her husband and he was better than Jimmy Stewart I added another twenty. I like women who like their husbands. We drove out into a dirt field with lots and lots of other cars and I started to get excited. Surely, this many people wouldn’t be here to see a lame sign. We met the man who was better than Jimmy Stewart and he was, indeed, very enjoyable. We followed the crowd to a red barn that seemed to be a good starting point. Turned out it was a gift shop. I bought my ubiquitous t-shirt ( I have a weakness!) and then we made our way outside. The house from the movie is there. You can take a tour. I’m sure it’s very cool, but we did not participate. We did not participate because my husband realized there is a perpetual game of baseball going on. Seriously! There are bags with mitts if you didn’t bring yours–although a lot of folks did. There are bats of different sizes and people take turns pitching and batting and playing outfield. My husband did his due diligence and watched for a while to make sure anyone could walk on. Took a break to take a picture on the famous bleachers from the movie with me. Joined in clapping for the guys who got a piece of the ball and then, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, turned to me with a grin that said, “I’m going in coach.” I smiled back and got my camera ready to photograph and film everything. It was epic. Just so, so cool. He was out there for a long time and I didn’t care a bit. I visited with the other folks lining the field waiting for their loved ones. Visited with a local couple watching a son who loves baseball. They told me they brought him out most Saturdays. It was free and he got to play with all kinds of people from all over the place. Visited with a family from Michigan who had driven down for the dad in their family. He was on the field pitching to my husband and doing a fantastic job. There was a lady with red hair who wanted a turn. She swung and missed the first two times, but got a hit on her third pitch and the whole crowd cheered. She stood there grinning and saying, “I can’t believe I hit it!” My husband repeated that phrase when he finally came in from playing outfield. “Did you see me?” he asked. “I got a couple of good hits. Not into the corn field, but good hits. Do you mind if I play a little bit longer?” I did not mind. I settled back in to continue my visit with the lady whose dog was rough housing with mine. The sound of the bat cracking and people visiting and kids playing made a pleasant background for our conversation. The corn fields surrounding the field were lush green sentries keeping us all in their sights and all the faces around me were smiling. It was quite the moment. When my husband came off the field I winked at him and said, ” Is this heaven?” He looked back at the field and then answered, “It is for me.” Good answer honey. Good answer. After that, we gathered up our belongings and said goodbye to our new friends and headed back to our truck. Had to take time to look at the videos of all the at-bats and outfield catches and talk about how exciting it would be to show it all to my father in law. And there he was. My husband as he must have been when he was a kid playing baseball. Loving the game and excited to tell his dad. I grinned at this man I love dearly and sent a silent thank you to the people who run this place. It’s true. If you build it they will come. There will be families, and hot dogs and pleasant afternoons. Home run hits and new t-shirts. Tired puppies and happy husbands. No entrance fee. Nobody saying you get three hits for ten dollars. Just a feeling of community. Of togetherness. Of America. As we left the corn field and baseball field behind us, I tried again for my movie moment and asked my husband, “Is this heaven?” He caught on, grinned his little boy grin and answered, “No, it’s Iowa.” We high-fived, rolled the windows down and routed back to the interstate.

Winterset, Iowa

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A cozy day watching movies is pretty much my idea of a dream scenario. It was on just one of those days that I first watched Bridges of Madison County. My kids were young and I was sick on a day they weren’t. If you’re a mom you know that never happens. They always give it to us. Always. So, we take off work for their illness and then suffer through ours at work. Meetings, and hallways and blowing our noses in bathrooms. Miserable. But that day I had achieved a kid’s version of a snow day. I was home on the couch with the entire afternoon stretching out in front of me. So, I watched Bridges of Madison County. We could probably do entire societal studies on why that movie hits us girls so hard. It’s right up there with The Notebook. La La Land. You pick. I remember blubbering as the movie ended. Pulling another box of tissue out of the laundry room and burying my face in my daughter’s Blue’s Clues pillow while I cried some more. It was a definite core memory for me–to reference another great movie. (Inside Out!) I was just so proud of Francesca for choosing her family over the handsome photographer. The last scene where they are driving through town made me yell at the TV. “Don’t do it. It’s not worth it!” An hour later and after another dose of cold medicine I cried because I felt sorry for her. She had let her true love go and strapped on all the weight of being a mom and wife. I was feeling that very deeply. Dinner needed to be made and it would be me making it. I couldn’t smell and my eyes were swollen shut. I pictured myself leaving town sitting in a truck with Clint Eastwood and cried some more. All of this to say, I have been obsessed with the covered bridges ever since then. I love to take pictures and I couldn’t wait to take pictures of them. Didn’t think I ever would because when would I be in Winterset, Iowa? It’s not exactly on the way anywhere. Unless, of course, you embark on an epic road trip with your husband who hated the movie, but loves you. If that happens, you drive out of your way to make the small town a stop. To spend the night there. To follow road signs and local’s directions to find all of the bridges. To drive down country roads and walk through prickly grass. To take too many pictures that, in latter years, would end up in a box under the bed but now live on my phone. What will today’s kids do with all of the pictures saved on the cloud? What is the computer equivalent of a cardboard box? Where would Francesca have hidden her secrets today? I don’t know, but I know I’m glad I have 96 pictures of those bridges on my phone (I counted) and I’m glad I had the chance to see Winterset, Iowa! We discovered the John Wayne museum is there also. No dogs are allowed, but on a hot day the nice ladies working there will let you carry your puppy through the exhibits. They will scruff her behind the ears and point you to the best bowl of french onion soup you’ll probably ever have. Your husband will enjoy the museum and the delicious dinner. You will both make faces at the beer that tastes like a Christmas tree and you will fall in love with Iowa a little bit. Have a not serious conversation about moving there and take forty-five more pictures ( I counted again) of their charming downtown and courthouse. You will go to sleep happy and tired and wondering how you could have waited so long to visit Winterset, Iowa. The next day, as you leave, you will wave goodbye at the town and blow the city limit sign a little kiss. Your husband will roll his eyes at you and you will get out your phone to see how far it is to the next stop. At least that’s what I hope happens because it was a really good day.