If you copy and paste the link below it will take you to pics of our trip.
http://picasaweb.google.com/jnshoop/62109IowaTrip02?authkey=Gv1sRgCLzw48mGo6yhJA&feat=directlink
Randy has had an interest in our family genealogy and has traced back the Garcia line to this aged town. He has traced it back through Catholic Church records that show Ben was born here. The records show that his parents like many of the people that populated the area were a mix of Mexicans of Spanish descent as well as the Native American tribes, the Apache and the Navajo. I believe that exact confirmation would only be established through a DNA test. Our first stop was at the ruins of a church by the name of La Santa Rosa DeLima. We couldn’t stop next to it so we parked the car and walked back. I’ll do a little internet research and fill in the blanks.
We stopped at the grocery store to buy some soft drinks and asked the directions to the local parish. The most recent parish, the one presently in use is called St. Thomas Apostle Parish. We were directed across the street and up the hill. Just above the road and behind some bushes an old part of the town opened up and of course was a place for tourist information. I knocked at the door and an older distinguished looking gentleman opened the door. He introduced himself as Napolean Garcia. He had lived in a Abiquiu his entire life, as his forefathers had. He was about 74 years old.
He gave us a little history on the area: It was established on the site of an old Indian pueblo in the mid-18th century. It became a settlement of Spaniards and Genizaros (Hispanicized Indians). In 1776, explorers Fray Francisco, Ataancio Dominguez, and Silvestre Velez de Escalante visited here. In 1839 the settlement became one of the stops
on the Spanish Trail that linked Sante Fe with Los Angeles, California..
He showed us a book that he had that listed the first settlers in the area. There were a few Garicas in the mix. I took pictures of the book.
It was easy to see what had attracted different groups of people to the area; it was an oasis in an otherwise very dry land. When you follow Rio Chama it is lush and green. Being in the river bottom there were ample opportunities to grow the produce that was needed. I would imagine any excess could be sold or traded to people traveling through the area.
I can’t say as I felt a connection with the area, but I did understand more the hardships that my ancestors had gone through and why Ben’s parents may have wanted to move.
We drove on to Four Corners past Ship Rock out one of those types of roads where they don’t spend too much money on mileage signs or highway signs. You’re basically going down this road that is getting worse and worse and you’re unsure where you’re going for miles on end. I expected it to turn into a gravel road and only hoped that they gave us some warning before we plunged headlong into Grand Canyon. I’m not saying I was nervous; it’s just that I could feel my sphincter muscle doing flip-flops whenever I had my eyes open.
You can see seemingly for thousands of miles and off visible in the distance is a house perched on a hill. Soon you come to a rutted dirt road that branches off the highway towards the house. The people must have lived there for generations because you can see the ‘migration of affluence’ with the newness of the houses. There are always at least three time periods represented in about a 150 foot area; it start with a broken down small little house that may be of dirt, logs, or boards as siding. It then progresses to either a more modern looking house that still is about 50 years old with the windows all broken out and the door (if there is one) hanging open or a single wide trailer listing over to one side because of its flattened tires and leaning forward on its tongue. Here again the windows are all broken out and the door is hanging open. Last is either a double wide trailer or a newer house with a yet unfinished lean-to on the side with about dozen vintage cars, trucks, or smaller trailers within spitting distance of the front door.
All the way to Four Corners was nothing but nothingness as far as you could see only interrupted by the glistening bits of glass from the thousands of broken beer bottles littering the roadside.
FYI. Four Corners is not a National Monument, a State Monument, or even a County Monument so don’t expect nice signs and smiling employees in Smokey Bear hats. It is administered by the local Native Americans that charge admission to stand on the monument. You can’t stand very long as (1) it’s really hot and (2) there are about 20 people waiting in line to act like a fool for digital posterity. For all your tourist needs they do sell jewelry, soda pop, fry bread, blankets (without smallpox, I hope), flutes, key chains, shot glasses, and overpriced T-Shirts that say, ‘I’ve been to Four Corners.’ Lucky for us we didn’t have any cash.
I think I’ve found the perfect way to go on a road trip. I go through my closet and pick out all of the worn-out shirts, old shorts, and socks with holes in them. I wash them for the last time whether they need it or not. I carefully gauge how long we’re to be gone and take the appropriate amount of clothes. Whenever I need to change clothes on the trip I simply leave them wherever we are. I can now say I have left an article of clothing in about 10 different states, generally in a KOA bathroom. I then jump into a new set of old clothes and wear these until my traveling companions not so subtly bring it to my attention that my deodorant can no longer keep up with the maturity of the clothes. I then repeat the same process until either our trip is over or I’m out of clothes. A short visit to a Wal-Mart can easily extend the duration of the road trip. When I arrive back home I have an empty bag and no laundry to do.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Tuesday
On our way into Limon, Colorado, our destination for the evening, we had been driving eastward heading into an ever darkening sky. Up to this point we had pretty much avoided any bad weather, but by the looks of the dark sky our luck was about to change. The thought of camping out at a KOA was starting to lose its appeal in direct proportion to how dark the sky was getting.
I’ve always thought of camping as sleeping in a tent at a place that doesn’t have running water, flush toilets, swimming pools, spas, miniature golf, internet service, and a convenience store right outside your tent flap. I guess I have to renegotiate my definition of camping to include that because when you’re on a road trip that’s what it is. Did I mention that meals you can buy on-site so you don’t even need to cook?
As the skies got darker and the lightening flashed, raindrops falling, and the wind starting to gust I thanked my lucky stars that we weren’t on a motorcycle. Up to this point I was drooling at every motorcycle that went by and considered stopping at a Harley Davidson dealership to see what kind of deal we could swing if we traded in a 2000 S40 Volvo. We pulled off the freeway to a convenience store and took cover in the lee of the wind as the storm blew over. There was a motel next to the store and I suggested that we stay for the night as I didn’t want to stay at a KOA, even if they did boast about their 9 hole miniature golf course. We didn’t stay we drove on.
About 5 minutes later we pulled into Limon and checked in to the first motel we came to. Bad choice. We were directed to a 2nd floor non-smoking room where the last patrons must not been able to read in English the clearly stated rule about it being a non-smoking room. I wish I could remember the name of the motel so anyone that reads this doesn’t stay there. Just to be on the safe side don’t stay at any motel in Limon, even if they do have a KOA with a 9-hole miniature golf course next door, as we found out when we opened up the tattered curtains to air out the room. It was one of those kinds of rooms where you pray that they replaced the sheets instead of just making the bed and try not to think how many people had sat on the bed in their shorts, or worse yet, without their shorts. Perhaps that’s the reason that rooms like this are so poorly lit.
Mental note to self: Upon entering a prospective room, check to see if light bulbs are at least 150 watt. If they’re anything less it suggests that they’re trying to hide something.
When we got up the next morning after not sleeping well my feet and ankles started itching. I think that there were fleas or some other ankle biting vermin in the room. It’s been two days later and I’m still itching. I’m just glad that we didn’t stay longer or they may have worked their way even higher up my torso. Granted, I have a high tolerance for embarrassment, but even I would have been embarrassed to being photographed standing at 4 Corners scratching places on my body that shouldn’t be scratched in public.
We had a nice scenic drive to Pueblo, Colorado where Sand’s aunts and uncles lived. Our first stop was at Aunt Mary’s house to visit her and her daughter, Nadine. The next stop was at Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Harvey’s house. Then about a 1-1/2 hour drive to Frieta and Roger’s house in Texas Creek. Our final destination was to be at a KOA in Alamosa, Colorado.
After we left Frieta’s house we drove on Hwy. 17 past the town of Hooper. The drive can only be described as beautiful mountains on both sides of the road going down through a looonnnggg flat valley. There were many extensively used pre-mobile home trailers seemingly placed haphazardly beside a number of cars, truck, tractors, and farm equipment on blocks down the entire valley. From the looks of them they may have been there when the pioneers were coming through the area. They weren’t sold then and they still haven’t sold. In case you’re interested in buying property there, judging by the number of for sale signs, there is quite a bit for sale. I dare say we saw more for sale signs along this stretch of road than anywhere on our trip. Some of these signs were so old and faded the phone number signs were written in Roman numerals.
I have to give some of the people there some credit for trying to make a go of it as some are trying to start businesses and pull people off the road. Just before we got to the town of Hooper we noticed a hand-painted sign advertising a local RV park to travelers. They had trailer spaces, RV spaces, tent spaces, and UFO viewing platforms for rent with no silly trees or anything green to get in the way or confuse any possible sightings with. While it was a very clear night we opted not to stay there.
To put it mildly, the town of Hooper has room for expansion. Like many small towns, I don’t think it was ever a boomtown or even had a heyday. It doesn’t have a gas station or convenience store, but it does have a store called Hooper Parts and Supply and a Post Office. I don’t know what they offer or who exactly they cater too, but the building was painted green and had a flashing light on top of it, but they can get their mail. Visitors must be down these days since the paint was fading on the building. The only other store in town was closed but struck me as kind of odd. The sign said Antique Store, but I lifted the front sign up and underneath was a sign that said, Second-Hand Store. I think that they must put the antique sign up during tourist season and the second-hand store up the rest of the year. Again, I think our country is suffering a proliferation of too many antique stores.
It seems the valley would be a good place for solar panels, wind mills, and anything else that could make it look a little more modern. There were a few solar panels, but none too many. It appears to be situated in a natural wind tunnel and since there aren’t any trees to cut down on the wind and good place for wind mills.
The last business that we saw as we headed out of town was a sign just off the road that said, Reptile Farm. There were four metal buildings behind it looking pretty lonesome. I don’t know who exactly they sell their reptiles to, but I’ll bet they don’t worry about being broken in to.
I’ve always thought of camping as sleeping in a tent at a place that doesn’t have running water, flush toilets, swimming pools, spas, miniature golf, internet service, and a convenience store right outside your tent flap. I guess I have to renegotiate my definition of camping to include that because when you’re on a road trip that’s what it is. Did I mention that meals you can buy on-site so you don’t even need to cook?
As the skies got darker and the lightening flashed, raindrops falling, and the wind starting to gust I thanked my lucky stars that we weren’t on a motorcycle. Up to this point I was drooling at every motorcycle that went by and considered stopping at a Harley Davidson dealership to see what kind of deal we could swing if we traded in a 2000 S40 Volvo. We pulled off the freeway to a convenience store and took cover in the lee of the wind as the storm blew over. There was a motel next to the store and I suggested that we stay for the night as I didn’t want to stay at a KOA, even if they did boast about their 9 hole miniature golf course. We didn’t stay we drove on.
About 5 minutes later we pulled into Limon and checked in to the first motel we came to. Bad choice. We were directed to a 2nd floor non-smoking room where the last patrons must not been able to read in English the clearly stated rule about it being a non-smoking room. I wish I could remember the name of the motel so anyone that reads this doesn’t stay there. Just to be on the safe side don’t stay at any motel in Limon, even if they do have a KOA with a 9-hole miniature golf course next door, as we found out when we opened up the tattered curtains to air out the room. It was one of those kinds of rooms where you pray that they replaced the sheets instead of just making the bed and try not to think how many people had sat on the bed in their shorts, or worse yet, without their shorts. Perhaps that’s the reason that rooms like this are so poorly lit.
Mental note to self: Upon entering a prospective room, check to see if light bulbs are at least 150 watt. If they’re anything less it suggests that they’re trying to hide something.
When we got up the next morning after not sleeping well my feet and ankles started itching. I think that there were fleas or some other ankle biting vermin in the room. It’s been two days later and I’m still itching. I’m just glad that we didn’t stay longer or they may have worked their way even higher up my torso. Granted, I have a high tolerance for embarrassment, but even I would have been embarrassed to being photographed standing at 4 Corners scratching places on my body that shouldn’t be scratched in public.
We had a nice scenic drive to Pueblo, Colorado where Sand’s aunts and uncles lived. Our first stop was at Aunt Mary’s house to visit her and her daughter, Nadine. The next stop was at Aunt Dorothy and Uncle Harvey’s house. Then about a 1-1/2 hour drive to Frieta and Roger’s house in Texas Creek. Our final destination was to be at a KOA in Alamosa, Colorado.
After we left Frieta’s house we drove on Hwy. 17 past the town of Hooper. The drive can only be described as beautiful mountains on both sides of the road going down through a looonnnggg flat valley. There were many extensively used pre-mobile home trailers seemingly placed haphazardly beside a number of cars, truck, tractors, and farm equipment on blocks down the entire valley. From the looks of them they may have been there when the pioneers were coming through the area. They weren’t sold then and they still haven’t sold. In case you’re interested in buying property there, judging by the number of for sale signs, there is quite a bit for sale. I dare say we saw more for sale signs along this stretch of road than anywhere on our trip. Some of these signs were so old and faded the phone number signs were written in Roman numerals.
I have to give some of the people there some credit for trying to make a go of it as some are trying to start businesses and pull people off the road. Just before we got to the town of Hooper we noticed a hand-painted sign advertising a local RV park to travelers. They had trailer spaces, RV spaces, tent spaces, and UFO viewing platforms for rent with no silly trees or anything green to get in the way or confuse any possible sightings with. While it was a very clear night we opted not to stay there.
To put it mildly, the town of Hooper has room for expansion. Like many small towns, I don’t think it was ever a boomtown or even had a heyday. It doesn’t have a gas station or convenience store, but it does have a store called Hooper Parts and Supply and a Post Office. I don’t know what they offer or who exactly they cater too, but the building was painted green and had a flashing light on top of it, but they can get their mail. Visitors must be down these days since the paint was fading on the building. The only other store in town was closed but struck me as kind of odd. The sign said Antique Store, but I lifted the front sign up and underneath was a sign that said, Second-Hand Store. I think that they must put the antique sign up during tourist season and the second-hand store up the rest of the year. Again, I think our country is suffering a proliferation of too many antique stores.
It seems the valley would be a good place for solar panels, wind mills, and anything else that could make it look a little more modern. There were a few solar panels, but none too many. It appears to be situated in a natural wind tunnel and since there aren’t any trees to cut down on the wind and good place for wind mills.
The last business that we saw as we headed out of town was a sign just off the road that said, Reptile Farm. There were four metal buildings behind it looking pretty lonesome. I don’t know who exactly they sell their reptiles to, but I’ll bet they don’t worry about being broken in to.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Iowa Trip, Monday, July 6
Took off the from the West Omaha, Nebraska, KOA about 9:30. Sandi says I don’t know how to dance, but she doesn’t see me in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning trying to find my way to the bathroom. I may have to patent a dance I do during this call of nature time. It’s kind of a leaning ahead, forward-stepping, cross-legged chicken walk on my tip-toes kind of move. I just replicate the same moves all the way to the bathroom moving slightly quicker as I get closer to my goal. Sometimes I stop momentarily and breathe deep before resuming. I just disregard any odd looks I get from other people and just mutter to them, “Just perfecting a new dance step.” I don’t know why they put the tent sites so far away from the bathrooms. The pull-through trailers with bathrooms are right next to it. The tents sites are on the other side of the property from them.
I thought we would be going into the land of milk and honey but we’re still in the sea of corn. Miles and miles of corn on both sides of the road. We’re well south of Kevin Bacon Country; we’re in Dorothy of Wizard of Oz fame country now. All these wide open spaces make me convinced that Dorothy’s folks just built their house in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’re miles of wide open fields with nary a made-made thing in sight, then all of a sudden there will be a forlorn house just sitting there. The newer ones are brick and block, the older wooden ones are somewhat like a sway-back mule, kind of saggy in the middle. The brick ones are probably descendants of Dorothy. I guess they learned. I wouldn’t be scared to live here unless that inland sea thing is true is this reverts one day back to an ocean. Then you’d have to worry about Tsunamis, tidal waves, and tornadoes.
We passed more museums that we didn’t stop at; Orphan Train Museum (Concordia, Kansas), Cedarville Museum, Morrowville Museum, Tractor Museum, and about a dozen other ones that I can’t remember. I tell you, I think there’s something to this museum idea business I wrote about yesterday! It has the potential to supplant Wal-Mart.
I think that we’re going through the very heart of Kansas. It’s a beautiful day. No sign of any storm-chasers or whatever they chase out here.
By the way, I had an epiphany in the shower this morning; I think there’s a market for a 3 pocket zip lock bag. Just think, wouldn’t you like the ease of packing a BLT sandwich and not having a gooey mess when it comes time to eat it? All parts of the sandwich could be placed in its own separate pocket to be put together at the proper time. I hope NASA isn’t reading my blog and end up stealing my idea then lamely claim that astronauts invented it in space.
We went through Cuba, Kansas looking for cigars, but the only thing we saw was a sign that said their kids had the distinction of winning the 1987 State Championship for Little League. No cigars.
Calvin is schooling us on the pros and cons of different historical weapons and the proper time to use each of them, mainly of the Roman era. Education like posing the question, “Who do you think would win, soldiers using slingers or archers?” When he’s not doing that he’s perfecting his vocal guitar riff. So far he’s up to about 10 notes. He can’t seem to find that 11th magical note so we’ve been hearing the same 10 notes from Oregon to Omaha. I think he may forego writing any notes down or even any tablature. He’s going directly for the music contract, possibly with the Carpenters, or if that doesn’t work out the Jonas Brothers.
Remind me when we get home that Sandi needs to go to the eye doctor. It was her turn driving when she started calling out the road signs asking me if I wanted to stop at any of them. I do feel kind of guilty for not stopping more, but we would run out of money before we ran out of tourist traps, museums, and points of interest. Anyway, one that was interesting to hear since I had my eyes closed was ‘Old Fart Haze.’ Why, I asked myself, would anyone think that this would work as a tourist destination was beyond me? I couldn’t conjure up any kind of a business plan that a bank lending officer would approve with a name like this. I couldn’t believe it so I opened my eyes to read the sign as we went by and had to correct her. It actually read, ‘Old Fort Hays.’
For the last 100 miles there have been signs along the road say things like ‘World’s Largest Prairie Dog’ 100 miles. I can just hear the kids begging their dads to stop every time they pass one of these signs. “Come on dad, this will be the world’s best ‘Show and Tell’ at school. I’ll probably get an ‘A” for ‘Show and Tell.’ You’re always telling me to try my hardest and think outside the box. How many other kids can say that they’ve seen the world’s largest Prairie Dog?” Anyway, we happened to pull off at the off-ramp where this was at, but we didn’t notice until we were sitting in the restaurant and looking out the window. There it was, a sign that read, ‘World’s Largest 8,000 pound Prairie Dog,’
I have another epiphany to share. I’m starting to see a pattern here. I get these epiphanies right after I wake up from either a good night’s sleep or a SNAP (short nap). As you may imagine I feel very guilty for not stopping more often and taking advantage of these ‘merican sites. I can’t imagine how many museums, points of interest, historical signs, and Prairie Dog Museums we’ve driven by. I think I could save everyone a lot of time and money by just reading about all these sites. I’m going to propose an idea to Doubleday Press. I don’t want to tell them the idea or they may give it to someone else, but I’ll write it on my blog so I have proof of it. All I’ll ask for is an advance of say…$300 a day. Here’s the idea; I’ll just drive through and about “merica and take careful notes on what ALL of the attractions are. I’ll write it all down and they can sell a book. This way ‘mericans can read about this great country of ours without ever leaving their sofa. It’s a great way to save the environment too as they won’t be driving up and down the highway looking for museums and Prairie Dog museums.
We’re going through eastern Kansas and just before we stopped for our evening nourishment at Oakley, Kansas I may have just witnessed the maximum exploitation of land use. In a ¼ mile stretch along the I-70 we saw cows grazing, oil wells pumping, corn growing, and wind turbines in use. At that rate when someone comes back here in 100 years there’ll just be a sunken dry wasteland with the air all sucked out of the sky because of these multiple uses all going on.
We’ve been driving in two-hour shifts, but we’ve been driving so long today I think I may have bunions on my bum. I just figured out something else I wouldn’t be good at; truck driving.
I thought we would be going into the land of milk and honey but we’re still in the sea of corn. Miles and miles of corn on both sides of the road. We’re well south of Kevin Bacon Country; we’re in Dorothy of Wizard of Oz fame country now. All these wide open spaces make me convinced that Dorothy’s folks just built their house in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’re miles of wide open fields with nary a made-made thing in sight, then all of a sudden there will be a forlorn house just sitting there. The newer ones are brick and block, the older wooden ones are somewhat like a sway-back mule, kind of saggy in the middle. The brick ones are probably descendants of Dorothy. I guess they learned. I wouldn’t be scared to live here unless that inland sea thing is true is this reverts one day back to an ocean. Then you’d have to worry about Tsunamis, tidal waves, and tornadoes.
We passed more museums that we didn’t stop at; Orphan Train Museum (Concordia, Kansas), Cedarville Museum, Morrowville Museum, Tractor Museum, and about a dozen other ones that I can’t remember. I tell you, I think there’s something to this museum idea business I wrote about yesterday! It has the potential to supplant Wal-Mart.
I think that we’re going through the very heart of Kansas. It’s a beautiful day. No sign of any storm-chasers or whatever they chase out here.
By the way, I had an epiphany in the shower this morning; I think there’s a market for a 3 pocket zip lock bag. Just think, wouldn’t you like the ease of packing a BLT sandwich and not having a gooey mess when it comes time to eat it? All parts of the sandwich could be placed in its own separate pocket to be put together at the proper time. I hope NASA isn’t reading my blog and end up stealing my idea then lamely claim that astronauts invented it in space.
We went through Cuba, Kansas looking for cigars, but the only thing we saw was a sign that said their kids had the distinction of winning the 1987 State Championship for Little League. No cigars.
Calvin is schooling us on the pros and cons of different historical weapons and the proper time to use each of them, mainly of the Roman era. Education like posing the question, “Who do you think would win, soldiers using slingers or archers?” When he’s not doing that he’s perfecting his vocal guitar riff. So far he’s up to about 10 notes. He can’t seem to find that 11th magical note so we’ve been hearing the same 10 notes from Oregon to Omaha. I think he may forego writing any notes down or even any tablature. He’s going directly for the music contract, possibly with the Carpenters, or if that doesn’t work out the Jonas Brothers.
Remind me when we get home that Sandi needs to go to the eye doctor. It was her turn driving when she started calling out the road signs asking me if I wanted to stop at any of them. I do feel kind of guilty for not stopping more, but we would run out of money before we ran out of tourist traps, museums, and points of interest. Anyway, one that was interesting to hear since I had my eyes closed was ‘Old Fart Haze.’ Why, I asked myself, would anyone think that this would work as a tourist destination was beyond me? I couldn’t conjure up any kind of a business plan that a bank lending officer would approve with a name like this. I couldn’t believe it so I opened my eyes to read the sign as we went by and had to correct her. It actually read, ‘Old Fort Hays.’
For the last 100 miles there have been signs along the road say things like ‘World’s Largest Prairie Dog’ 100 miles. I can just hear the kids begging their dads to stop every time they pass one of these signs. “Come on dad, this will be the world’s best ‘Show and Tell’ at school. I’ll probably get an ‘A” for ‘Show and Tell.’ You’re always telling me to try my hardest and think outside the box. How many other kids can say that they’ve seen the world’s largest Prairie Dog?” Anyway, we happened to pull off at the off-ramp where this was at, but we didn’t notice until we were sitting in the restaurant and looking out the window. There it was, a sign that read, ‘World’s Largest 8,000 pound Prairie Dog,’
I have another epiphany to share. I’m starting to see a pattern here. I get these epiphanies right after I wake up from either a good night’s sleep or a SNAP (short nap). As you may imagine I feel very guilty for not stopping more often and taking advantage of these ‘merican sites. I can’t imagine how many museums, points of interest, historical signs, and Prairie Dog Museums we’ve driven by. I think I could save everyone a lot of time and money by just reading about all these sites. I’m going to propose an idea to Doubleday Press. I don’t want to tell them the idea or they may give it to someone else, but I’ll write it on my blog so I have proof of it. All I’ll ask for is an advance of say…$300 a day. Here’s the idea; I’ll just drive through and about “merica and take careful notes on what ALL of the attractions are. I’ll write it all down and they can sell a book. This way ‘mericans can read about this great country of ours without ever leaving their sofa. It’s a great way to save the environment too as they won’t be driving up and down the highway looking for museums and Prairie Dog museums.
We’re going through eastern Kansas and just before we stopped for our evening nourishment at Oakley, Kansas I may have just witnessed the maximum exploitation of land use. In a ¼ mile stretch along the I-70 we saw cows grazing, oil wells pumping, corn growing, and wind turbines in use. At that rate when someone comes back here in 100 years there’ll just be a sunken dry wasteland with the air all sucked out of the sky because of these multiple uses all going on.
We’ve been driving in two-hour shifts, but we’ve been driving so long today I think I may have bunions on my bum. I just figured out something else I wouldn’t be good at; truck driving.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
Iowa Trip, Sunday, June 5
We had a great time watching the fireworks with the ‘fam.’ It WAS a very good display, not long but strong, choreographed to patriotic music playing from.........somewhere. We watched from a hilltop on the campus where Wendy goes to school.
Took off this morning Cedar Rapids, Iowa, about 9:00 and drove on I-80 to Omaha, NB. We were leaving the land of corn and windmills and entering the land of milk and honey. Western Iowa is a drive-by state. You’ve seen the extent of what that there is to see after about the first 5 miles. Corn. Don’t get me wrong, I love corn, but I’ve seen much more than I could ever hope to eat, and it’s not ripe yet. It’s kind of like looking at chocolate being prepared, but being told it’s not ready yet leaves an odd taste in your mouth.
When we were in Blue Earth, Minnesota there is a 60” tall statue of the Jolly Green Giant. My question is though, if the Jolly Green Giant lives in Blue Earth, Minnesota, why isn’t he blue, or, even more perplexing, why aren’t the vegetables blue if they come from Blue Earth, Minnesota?
We stopped at a Cabela’s in Omaha while Sandi met a friend of hers at the Cracker Barrel Restaurant nearby. It’s a store where a man can shop for ‘man stuff,’ and if he can manage to take his wife along, to try to convince her that he “needs” that doe attractant for huntin’ season. Or, at least, buy stuff that has a Cabela’s label on it and show other people that he dresses like a ‘man.’ That doe attractant stuff comes in a 6 ounce bottle for $29.99. I don’t even want to know how they collect that stuff. My mind goes wild and none of it’s good. I tried to siddle up to the couple and listen to the plea (for some pointers), but I didn’t want to make myself too obvious so I only heard about the part where he was trying to convince her to let him buy it. It was kind of like this, “it’s made in the USA so it’s patriotic, it’ll keep me outta the bar, it’ll be final proof that I’m a real man’s man. No, honey, I don’t prefer men!” I moved on to the clothing section after that.
It seems that Cabela’s is not just a man’s store. It has women’s clothes too. I happened to walk by the women’s section and noticed that there were racks and racks of women’s swimming suits. One-piece, two piece, and everything in between, although there did seem to be quite an inordinate number of camouflage. Ah-ha!! Another chance to make some points, or at least catch up on some lost opportunities. There happened to be a swimming suit that I thought would look good on Sandi; a one-piece with, you guess it, a camouflage pattern. A very nice, low-key camouflage pattern, a green muted forest pattern if I remember right. Then I remembered something my dad told me, “Don’t buy a woman two things; a purse or a swimming suit, you’ll make the wrong decision every time.”
Have I mentioned museums yet? It seems that there are a lot of museums spread across this good country of ours. I guess that that’s the price to pay for white people living here for the last two-hundred years. They want to pass on to posterity the blight they’ve made on the landscape. Have you ever seen an Indian museum not made by white people trying to assuage there guilt for what they did to the Native Americans? We’ve passed lot of museums and stopped at a few. The National Spam Museum, John Wayne’s Birthplace Museum, Natural Living History Museum, their teaser, ‘Come watch grass grow,’ Czech and Slavic Museum, Propeller Museum, Danish Immigrant Museum and antique store, Mississippi River Museum, to name a few. We did manage to drive by the National Spam Museum without stopping, but I do have to admit, it did make me wonder if they would divulge the ingredients in Spam if we took the tour.
It really makes we wonder what the state of museums will be 100 years from now. Just think, the razor that I’ll purchase tomorrow will one day be under a glass case for others to view as an antiquity. I can see it now, museums and antique stores lining the streets for miles and miles helping people remember the ‘good ‘ole days.’ It has to be something like that. With the increasing number of people and the amount of garbage that we’re producing there must be at least a portion of this that ends up in either a landfill or a museum.
We're at a KOA and the fireflies are out in force.
Took off this morning Cedar Rapids, Iowa, about 9:00 and drove on I-80 to Omaha, NB. We were leaving the land of corn and windmills and entering the land of milk and honey. Western Iowa is a drive-by state. You’ve seen the extent of what that there is to see after about the first 5 miles. Corn. Don’t get me wrong, I love corn, but I’ve seen much more than I could ever hope to eat, and it’s not ripe yet. It’s kind of like looking at chocolate being prepared, but being told it’s not ready yet leaves an odd taste in your mouth.
When we were in Blue Earth, Minnesota there is a 60” tall statue of the Jolly Green Giant. My question is though, if the Jolly Green Giant lives in Blue Earth, Minnesota, why isn’t he blue, or, even more perplexing, why aren’t the vegetables blue if they come from Blue Earth, Minnesota?
We stopped at a Cabela’s in Omaha while Sandi met a friend of hers at the Cracker Barrel Restaurant nearby. It’s a store where a man can shop for ‘man stuff,’ and if he can manage to take his wife along, to try to convince her that he “needs” that doe attractant for huntin’ season. Or, at least, buy stuff that has a Cabela’s label on it and show other people that he dresses like a ‘man.’ That doe attractant stuff comes in a 6 ounce bottle for $29.99. I don’t even want to know how they collect that stuff. My mind goes wild and none of it’s good. I tried to siddle up to the couple and listen to the plea (for some pointers), but I didn’t want to make myself too obvious so I only heard about the part where he was trying to convince her to let him buy it. It was kind of like this, “it’s made in the USA so it’s patriotic, it’ll keep me outta the bar, it’ll be final proof that I’m a real man’s man. No, honey, I don’t prefer men!” I moved on to the clothing section after that.
It seems that Cabela’s is not just a man’s store. It has women’s clothes too. I happened to walk by the women’s section and noticed that there were racks and racks of women’s swimming suits. One-piece, two piece, and everything in between, although there did seem to be quite an inordinate number of camouflage. Ah-ha!! Another chance to make some points, or at least catch up on some lost opportunities. There happened to be a swimming suit that I thought would look good on Sandi; a one-piece with, you guess it, a camouflage pattern. A very nice, low-key camouflage pattern, a green muted forest pattern if I remember right. Then I remembered something my dad told me, “Don’t buy a woman two things; a purse or a swimming suit, you’ll make the wrong decision every time.”
Have I mentioned museums yet? It seems that there are a lot of museums spread across this good country of ours. I guess that that’s the price to pay for white people living here for the last two-hundred years. They want to pass on to posterity the blight they’ve made on the landscape. Have you ever seen an Indian museum not made by white people trying to assuage there guilt for what they did to the Native Americans? We’ve passed lot of museums and stopped at a few. The National Spam Museum, John Wayne’s Birthplace Museum, Natural Living History Museum, their teaser, ‘Come watch grass grow,’ Czech and Slavic Museum, Propeller Museum, Danish Immigrant Museum and antique store, Mississippi River Museum, to name a few. We did manage to drive by the National Spam Museum without stopping, but I do have to admit, it did make me wonder if they would divulge the ingredients in Spam if we took the tour.
It really makes we wonder what the state of museums will be 100 years from now. Just think, the razor that I’ll purchase tomorrow will one day be under a glass case for others to view as an antiquity. I can see it now, museums and antique stores lining the streets for miles and miles helping people remember the ‘good ‘ole days.’ It has to be something like that. With the increasing number of people and the amount of garbage that we’re producing there must be at least a portion of this that ends up in either a landfill or a museum.
We're at a KOA and the fireflies are out in force.
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