Grandparents' sad leavetaking
September 4, 2012

Wow, that was a really tough departure.  Three wonderful days with the kids made perfect by Sara’s excellent planning.  She and Trinity Grace spent some time with us this morning before leaving for work; it just about tore my heart out as they pulled up next to us on the road; Sara and me red-eyed and waving and Trinity pulling a sad face in the back seat.  We did our best to make some good memories, though.

Three joyful days . . .

I fulfilled my dream of taking the baby kayaking - she is fearless on the water - she also went paddleboating with Chris & Sara.  We colored, read books, drew pictures, went swimming, talked and played, fed baby goats, rode ponies, panned for “gold’, had an incredible one-hour family photo shoot at Unity Village, braided the doll's hair, ate Sara’s good grub and were treated to Kansas City barbecue at Jack Stack, had fun at bowling, shopped, picked out accent wall paint samples and slapped them up there to await final decision, visited with “Gomer”, stopped at a fire station so Trinity could drive the fire engine, pigged out on goldfish crackers and just generally did the Grandma & Grandpa thing - filled my heart with joy to have time with them.  The only disappointment was when the fishing pond where Chris was to teach Trinity the fine art of angling was closed.

Oh yes, about that stop in the historic schoolhouse where T and I sat in historic desks and wrote on historic slateboards . . . thanks to Sara for letting me know it was strictly against the historic schoolhouse rules for adults to sit in the historic desks . . . afterward.  Thank heaven I wasn't shamed in front of my granddaughter by the schoolmarm whacking my hands with a ruler!  I wondered why she was giving me the evil eye.








 





The baby is a lanky three-year-old who never stops talking, just like her mom at that age.
She misses nothing at all, takes in all that is said and done around her, analyzes it and uses what she learns.  Understanding that all grandparents are sure their babies are the most . . . well, everything good and desirable, I do not want to disillusion them; but really, folks, there’s no comparison.  Trinity Grace is adorable and with a personality that draws people to her everywhere she goes.

An unexpected and fun thing was to have brother Bob and niece Hailey join us for barbecue dinner.  So glad they made the drive over for that, and Hailey brought a much-appreciated doll for Trinity.

The hurricane made the last leg of the drive and our set-up in Lenexa pretty exhausting on top of the very long two-day drive, so we were dragging some but managed to keep up with the young’uns.  It rained all night and most of the next day, clearing up in the nick of time for our photo shoot.




























Unusual origin . . .

Our home here was at the Walnut Grove RV Park, which has an interesting story.  I wondered why it was stashed right in the midst of a residential area; turns out it was there before the houses.

The two-story office/residence was formerly a bar, we were told.  Behind it were cabins that rented by the hour (for folks who wanted to rest up before going home?).  In 1952, the current owner’s grandmother razed the cabins and a trailer park took their place; the RV park came about 20 years after that.

Dueling hummers, hot rod  . . .

We put up seed and nectar feeders by the Totee, then were not there enough to spot who came to dinner.  There was no doubt the next morning after I took them down that we had been discovered by hummingbirds, though.  While we chatted with Sara, they fought for the privilege of getting to the feeder that wasn’t even there any more.  I spotted black-chinned and ruby-throated.  The only other birds I’ve identified in this whole time were great blue herons while we kayaked.

Isaac gifted us with hot and muggy after all that rainfall, cooler temps are forecast for next weekend when we will be elsewhere - go figure.

A major classic car show transpired while we were here.  Although we did not attend, we were privileged to see an impressive immaculate hot rod as it was loaded up to leave our park.  It had been trailered all the way from New Jersey - a 1932 Ford coupe that its “dad” had built from parts 29 years ago.  He drove the hot rod nearly 200,000 miles before putting it out to pasture as a pull-behind.

Moving on, KC, history . . .

Now we are once again traveling, but a bit out of practice.  We nearly departed with one roof vent open and were stopped before we left the driveway by a helpful feller chasing us down to alert us about our antenna still being up.  Hopefully, we will soon have our routines remembered.  During our previous months-long wanders, everything came out and went in, got unpacked, and restowed, got cranked up or down as necessary without much thought.  We are anxious to embark on such again next year - they were great explores across this incredible country and introduced us to many fascinating cultures and people.

Skirting around downtown Kansas City this morning, I was interested to see the mix of very old and brand-new architecture, gothic church steeples once thought huge now dwarfed by futuristic structures.  I would love to spend substantial time here to “do” the history.  This city was once an important economic terminus and remains so today in very different ways from the old trail drives that brought vast herds of cattle from the Texas range to the railroads here.

Lenexa, where Sara & Ray now live, is a lovely town, nice parks and residential area, both historic and modern.  One structure struck me as we drove by, so I looked up its history - the Legler barn.  It was built in 1863 by Adam Legler - a large stone edifice constructed on the Santa Fe Trail.  It now houses the Lenexa Museum.  I have never seen a stone barn before; it is built with large limestone blocks, beautiful and obviously sturdy.  Imagine the changes that have swirled around it from the time of the Civil War and prairie schooners carrying settlers to western lands.

As we are northeast bound, we see the pastures are greener than the countryside before Kansas City, but see many acres of corn fields that shriveled to brown nubbins before they could make their crop.  The drought has hit hard here.

Missouri come and gone . . .

By midday, we have traversed a corner of Missouri, one of my most ancestorey states, and bopped on into Iowa.  No sooner were we over the border than we saw an Amish horse-drawn buggy crossing over the freeway.

We are encountering pretty heavy cloud cover - is Isaac lurking up here?

I have spent little time in Iowa, but have always been quite taken with its hilly grasslands and corn fields, interesting landscape after the more level plains.  Drought damage is sadly evident through here, must be thousands of acres of crops lost.  It is a surprise to see some extensive vineyards here.  They are netted over the top to keep out the birds.  If we did that with our own grapes at home, we might get a few more than what the birds leave us now.

Decision made . . .

We have been up in the air about what we are doing for the next few days, although there is not much leeway.  We are to be in Woodruff, Wisconsin, on Thursday.  A decision has been made: we will drive on today to Keiler, Wisconsin, just beyond Dubuque, Iowa.  That will allow us to stay two nights and give us a day to cast around to see the sights.  On a previous even faster trip through, I loved the town of Dubuque and wanted to look around more.  Then, of course, there is the siren call of the Mississippi River and lots more to be explored - obviously more than a day’s worth.

This will bring us close to Prairie du Chien, the 1870s home of my friend Kathy’s ancestors, the Bouskas, whom I researched for her.  I think it is important to remember those who came before and to honor them for the hardships they endured in settling this land.  It is so easy to jump on a highway and zoom from place to place without thinking about the very real people, families who persevered in the face of circumstances we cannot begin to imagine.

And now I realize I am in the vicinity of another client's ancestral home - the Cravatzo clan near Ottumwa - I really want to go over there to do some on-site research since I am in the neighborhood but drat reality - we move along.

Off the Interstate, into the countryside, Amana Colonies . . .

Yahoo - we have finally split the sheets with the Interstate system and are proceeding north from Iowa City.  I cannot fault Iowa for its superb and plentiful rest stops, though; they all are even equipped with free wireless internet service.

As always, things to return for: I would like to drive through and peruse the Amana Colonies.  What little I have learned about them is a fascinating history.  From their start in 1751 in Germany, they were a religious commune that moved to New York and when overtaken by development, relocated to Iowa.  The seven colonies survived successfully as communal living for more than a century.  Improved transportation eventually made isolation impossible and they transformed gradually into a non-religious economic cooperative.

We’re getting a slightly better feel for the farming communities now that we are tooting down two-lane Iowa State Highway 1 that seems to be carrying an inordinate amount of traffic - possibly commuters or shoppers homeward bound from Iowa City.

The dry does not appear to have been as drastic here; some corn fields are heavy with ears readying for harvest, although the stalks have not attained the height expected, and most farmsteads are well-tended.  I really love Iowa’s hills that afford lovely distant vistas of fields and woodlots unlike much of the Midwest.

Small commercial gardens and sweet corn plots give hope of a fresh veggie dinner tomorrow.  I never tire of seeing these wonderful small towns; this road is taking us right through quaint residential areas and the historic downtowns.

Wisconsin . . .

Crossing the Mississippi River takes us from Iowa just into Wisconsin where we are happy to settle into our home for two nights: The Rustic Barn Campground scenically set atop a hill outside the small town of Kieler.  The sun set as a magnificent red ball over the fields below us.