Ghost town, seeking Isaac
September 7, 2009

By noon o’clock today, the view from our front door changed drastically. One minute there were trailers, fifth-wheels, motor homes and tents in every direction and the next we were one of the six remaining residents. The park never did fill up, but it was definitely hopping for the holiday.

Many of the campers were families and groups. I enjoyed watching the couple across from us with two young children. They were such a nice family, reminded me of Shannon, Jim and Bri. Behind us was an older couple with their two young granddaughters; they were enjoying each others’ company, too, giving and receiving shoulder rubs and back scratches. It reminded me of Grandma Grace who was the best back scratcher in the world and of Dad who exercised to maintain the strength in his hands right up until the end. He cheerfully provided shoulder rubs the like of which I’ve not felt elsewhere.

We spent more time this morning entering historical data into the computer and trying to sort out double cousins marrying siblings, which they did just to confuse us, I’m sure. By then, I was worn out again and rested while Chris had a good gum-flapping exchange with the RV park’s owner. In the course of it, Chris mentioned that we were headed to Isaac and Sarah Maitlen’s farm to do some probing for fallen and disappeared gravestones. Ryan volunteered a tool made for that very purpose (well, not for gravestones, but for probing the ground), so we borrowed it and were on our way.

Taking yet another new route, we spied an intriguing ruin of a 1913 brick schoolhouse with mostly only a tall tower still standing. The sight demanded photography, so we quickly turned onto the side road where I had to stand in the pavement to get my shots. I’m sure they don’t do it justice, but I had to try. Luckily, the traffic was light. One passerby stopped to tell us what he knew about the place. Evidently, it was pretty much intact until fairly recently. When the roof collapsed, the rest of the edifice began to follow suit. It appears that it won’t be standing much longer. It is in Knox Township, Jay County.










Near there was a garden with humongous pumpkins, so those got photographed on the way home. I expect they will show up in the County fair.

I had some glorified idea about going over to Jeff’s place (Deb is with her father at the hospital), the old Maitlen farm, and the three of us finding Isaac Maitlen’s long-lost grave, but alas, it was not to be. Chris probed and probed; I probed, and Jeff kept us company all the while, all for naught. Oddly enough, Jeff discovered the bottom of a tombstone as we were walking by the chicken house. It was tucked up in the weeds growing up at the side of the pen. That stone didn’t show a name for the eight-year-old boy it memorialized.

Jeff plans to take down the precariously leaning shed, so perhaps something will come to light then. I’m sure he’ll let us know if that happens. We totally enjoyed our time visiting with Jeff and his son, Sam, what a great family.

Still seeking Isaac . . .

We had filed in the backs of our minds (okay, forgotten) about the fellow Gene (down the road from Jeff, the one who sold us great Silver Queen sweet corn) said had a stone that he thought came from the lost Maitlen cemetery, so we went over and woke up Gene from watching a televised golf game. He phoned Karl for us and we were given instructions to meet him at the American Legion hall in Albany.

All the folks lined up at the smoky bar greeted us with smiles when we entered as Karl asked if we were the graveyard people. We allowed as how we fit that description. Karl was tending bar (I think he might be the commander but I didn’t ask), but generously insisted that he would accompany us over to the Bethel Cemetery, which was where the stones in question are in residence. It is close to the Maitlen farm.

He was also quite an interesting and accommodating person. Turns out he has done loads of volunteer work repairing and restoring stones in that historic resting place where our Sarah Maitlen (Isaac’s wife) lies. In the course of his endeavors, he had located a large ornate stone buried out at the back of the graveyard, dug it up and set it up within the confines of the burying ground. He believes that local farmers who find gravestones on their properties bring them over there and leave them, and thinks that one and others may be from the Maitlen place.

It was not any of our kin; however, Karl showed us a bunch of our kin there that we had missed. They were mostly hard and/or impossible to decipher, so we used shaving cream and squeegee to clarify the inscriptions to be photographed and recorded.

I am so taken with all the folks in these parts. We have been greeted at every turn with welcome, finding everyone more than anxious to be friendly and helpful.

Veterans’ flags, autumn . . .

All this was taking substantially longer than anything we had planned (as if we plan anything). We still had to go to Fairview to replace the American flags on Joseph and Anthony McKinney’s graves with the larger ones we had for them, and then home finally 8ish, mucho tired and hungry.

We’re seeing the beginnings of autumn’s leaf-color change and loads of garden vegetable harvest everywhere. Near here are two very large tomato fields, surprising in the miles of corn and soybeans. Speaking of tomatoes, Jeff encouraged us to again help ourselves to tomatoes from their garden, some of the best I’ve ever eaten. Another sign of fall are the formations of ducks and geese winging their way southward. I love seeing and hearing the geese announcing their departure.

When I saw a small pasture with belted Galloway cattle grazing, it reminded me of the last time I mentioned them in a travelogue. That one passing reference garnered more comments than anything else I’ve written. Melissa said her father kept a few in his pasture just because his wife liked the look of them. I just looked them up on the Internet and it actually said that (not about Melissa’s parents, just in general that they are sometimes kept because folks appreciate their appearance).

Great towns, house concerts, stuff . . .

Every time we drive through Bluffton, we are taken with it. Its really impressive historic downtown is surrounded by substantial well-kept older neighborhoods that make me want to sit on a front porch swing after a summer supper and wave to whoever passes by. It’s really one of the nicest towns anywhere in the area.

One other place we saw recently could be called “little Switzerland”. The town of Berne was settled by Swiss immigrants and obviously continues to celebrate that heritage. We didn’t explore the town, but enjoyed the prevalent Swiss architecture we saw on our way through. There is much in this region that insists we return to spend more time.

I finally sent off the house concert verbiage to trusty website designer Susanne to put up on our Goat Hill Music site. It will be fun to have more of that happen; it’s a great venue for Chris’ music.

Speaking of surprising, the 14-cent drop in gas prices here is most welcome. I’m guessing it must be general across the country.

Now lest we be thought ill of on account of our family history obsession, I quote an authority, author John R. Totten: “Genealogy is a science that appeals to the normal and healthy mind of all intelligent human beings.”

Laying low (with apologies to Dad W.)
September 6, 2009

A down day in more ways than one: I have not been feeling up to snuff for several days and this was no exception. We spent the morning charting family history data gained in Fort Wayne, working on the North Carolina families, primarily Bracken, Cantrell and Stalcup, with an eye to being ready to do more research on them when we get to that area.

After a rare but very welcome nap, we drove to Portland (not Oregon) to the flicks. It was a theater in the downtown, a fairly depressed looking section of town, a condition that seems to have been created similarly in thousands of other small towns in America - the relocation of most business to chain-store strips away from town center. Upon eyeing the exterior, I admit to a moment of hesitation about continuing on the venture, but once inside the Ritz Theater, we found it to be totally enjoyable albeit a bit charmingly funky.

Smiles greeted us at every turn - from the lady who sold us our tickets to the lady who sold us our popcorn - oops, it was the same lady. We watched Sandra Bullock in “The Proposal”. It was a cute, predictable story line. The best part was getting to see Sitka, Alaska.

Portland is just over a half-hour away. I don’t tire of driving through these parts, and luckily, Chris tears around on these back roads, really knowing his way around. He often states an intent to go somewhere we’ve been “a different way” and off he goes turning this way and that and getting right to our destination while seeing all new country. In the meantime, I would find it impossible to get there using the same route we’ve taken ten times. To give myself a bit of credit, it does make a difference whether one is driving or gazing out at each and every farmyard. I’m the gazer; he’s the driver most of the time.

Again tonight, we are sitting out on the patio creating a concert (I’m the audience along with most of the rest of the park residents). The musicians are Chris, of course, and Joe. Joe and his wife, Debbie, are our neighbors; he plays the guitar, and they are having a great old time with the blues and more. We’ve enjoyed getting to know them in and around the music. Too bad Ben's not here, too. Geez, what an idea - the ultimate pick-up band, with a member from every RV park we stop at.

As a non-musician, it amazes me to see two strangers sit down together and create music - marvelous!

News flash: Trinity Grace, my most beautiful grandchild, has sprung her first tooth, displaying all the attributes of a precocious and amazing small person.

Our sunshine has departed; the day was overcast from what would have been sunup to what would have been sundown, and delivered the slightest of drizzles now and then, holding the temperatures in the low 70s all day.

Best movie theater policy: Free popcorn refills until it’s gone (at the Ritz in Portland, Indiana).

Second best movie theater policy: Any sign of any kind of cell phone usage results in immediate expulsion from the premises (also at the Ritz).

It feels good to stop
September 4, 2009

Sitting outside in the mellowness of a late afternoon, vegging like nobody’s business: Chris shares this, “It feels good to stop”, and did I ever agree with that. I think it’s akin to hitting oneself in the head with a hammer just so you’ll know how good it feels when you stop.

We finished up our fourth day at the Allen County Library about 3 p.m., went into the next room to plug into the computer a query about John Rhodimer, and when nothing showed up, we breathed a sigh of relief and toddled on down to the parking garage, lugging two computers, camera, purse and a zillion more copies from the day’s research.

Chris was also lugging a heavy pocketful of dollar coins (it’s hard not to call them silver dollars). Seems the change machine gives change only in dollar coins, none of which can be used in the library, so he was walking a bit lopsided until we managed to spend them (didn’t take too long).

And speaking of those coins and the other new coins we’ve gotten lately - in today’s vernacular: they suck. Sized small, extremely lightweight, they feel as if they’re fakes out of the Cracker Jack box: exceedingly unimpressive, embarrassing really. I expect real coins to have some presence.

We did a small side trip at my request around a very old looking brick-roaded neighborhood of Fort Wayne just to satisfy my curiosity. It was at one time a good middle-class neighborhood sometime around 1880s, I think, now gone a bit seedy but not beyond redemption were it not for the gigantic General Electric plant complex bordering it. We see plenty of large plants - that, General Mills, etc. - in the area making us think the employment rate must be fairly high relative to other parts of the country.

Then again, I have noted many “for sale” signs and some real estate auction notices, so I’m sure the region has not escaped unscathed.

In the meantime, we are witnessing this place come alive with trailers lined up to check in, full wagonloads of folks wandering thither and yon on a hayride (this time with hay I mention for Sara’s benefit. She was outraged about the Topeka KOA doing a hayride sans hay. Ever the traditionalist as much as she hates to admit it, she takes after me). The atmosphere is much more happening. I offer kudos to the person who designed the park with very roomy spaces offset from each other to allow a sense of privacy.

Okay, the for sale signs got me to the point of the economy, which seems to be part and parcel of our lives right now. I understand that our not-so-illustrious governor is poised to begin selling State property in order to ostensibly balance the budget. This kind of action - taking the easy way out, but one that will cost us dearly in the long run, instead of dealing with the problem - just makes my blood boil. Wouldn’t it be novel to do what needed to be done to keep us out of this dilemma in the first place: that would be to stop spending. And I do mean to slash spending until our income exceeds our expenditures. That’s dealing with reality.

Not a nice note to end on, so we’ll go with this one: Size does count, at least to Chris as evidenced by this photo of him measuring the height of our stack of papers gotten at the library to the tune of ten cents per copy (that price makes it seem so innocuous). It will be great fun over the next months to evaluate and assimilate what we have gained.

Heh, heh, I only thought I was finished with tonight's blog, but I got sidetracked and neglected to talk about the great little garden produce stand we stopped at. A relatively large truck operation run by a very pregnant lady with a toddler, assisted by her friend with a toddler. She was selling excellent veggies, and in the process of the transaction, we had a fun conversation about Louisiana, Missouri, things to do around Bluffton (not much) and more. It brought me right back to the days of farming 20 acres, raising three children (two babies) and running a full-time produce market. At least she has enough sense not to make it full time.

And I want to share this great quote from Maya Angelou that the library has displayed prominently on a wall: "We need to haunt the house of history and listen anew to the ancestors' wisdom".

Copying ‘til the cows come home
September 3, 2009

Never, never again! Never again will I go anywhere to do such a thing as we are doing here. I confess that it was I who suggested we go to the Allen County Public Library in Fort Wayne to do research. Three straight days of doing just that brings me to 6 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon dutifully searching the stacks with surname index in hand, desperately hoping not to find anything else. It sound ridiculous, but honestly, we now have a stack of copies approximately six inches in height, and are not finished. Lawsy mercy, we have to return again tomorrow! Oh sorry, I meant to say, “Wow, what a great opportunity to get back to it on the morrow!

The real kicker in this is that we have only worked in one small section of the library, perusing only what is called the family history collection. It consists of thousands and thousands (I’m sure there’s a number somewhere but I’m too tired to care) of many otherwise unpublished or inaccessible volumes - bound copies of old rare tomes, self-published books bound by the library, out-of-print books - just seemingly miles of books.

I originally had some vague idea of “doing” that section and then moving on to some more specialized research in the other billions of records - in books, microfilm, microfiche, etc.

Granted we have found some exciting and fun stuff (good grief, I should hope so for the amount of time and money it has cost us!), but I feel just a bit too successful right now. Tomorrow will be a shorter day; we have seen the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

As always, we have found great information where we didn’t expect it, and none where lots was anticipated, or at least hoped for. We have full firsthand accounts of the capture of Catherine Dubois and her children by Indians in the 1600s and their subsequent retrieval. We got loads on our Brackens/Cantrells/McKinneys; new data on our Mayflower ancestor William Brewster. Our Elizabeth Bracken about whom we knew virtually nothing previously now sports an entire lineage through Stalcups back to Colonial New Sweden in Delaware.

We gained a ton of detailed documentation about the Coes clear back into antiquity. We discovered that we single-handedly won our independence from Britain thanks to our ancestral Cantrell and his four sons, all of whom fought and survived.

Truthfully, we are clueless about what all we have amassed (so much!) - it took all our focus just to insure that we were copying what pertained to us in each of the volumes, and hopefully not much that didn’t. And I am here to tell you that the number of ways to write incomprehensible genealogies and histories is legion. Not being close to a window through which to throw stupid, stupid, stupid books, I was sometimes forced to wheedle Chris into figuring out the worst of them. It made him feel important and smart and besides, it was easier that way (I think it’s called codependent).

Fort Wayne, Matt, business . . .

We’ve enjoyed downtown Fort Wayne, a mishmash of modern and historic, a melange of residential, commercial and industrial. One day we walked to J.K. O’Donnell’s, where we enjoyed a good Irish lunch in an impressively appointed restaurant. The next we stopped across the street to sample excellent pizza while soaking up sunshine at the sidewalk tables. Today, we ate our packed sandwiches outdoors on the library grounds in yet another perfectly clear moderate temperatured day. This weather makes up for a lot of what we endured last summer.

I love the live hedged welcome “signs” to the city, so we stopped to snap a photo this morning - how uniquely charming - but a bit hard to get a good perspective for photographing (without standing in traffic, that is).

Last night we found Matt of gravestone restoration fame and were able to get him paid for fixing the McKinneys’ stones. What a sweet guy he is - even repaired one in the family that we hadn’t requested because she wasn’t an ancestor (can’t very well pay to restore the entire cemetery after all) and didn’t charge us. We were sorry to hear that he was injured by a falling tombstone, and is recovering in a wheelchair from surgery. It threw him out of work for the whole summer of great working weather, so he will be happy to receive our payment.

We located him the second time same as the first: through Spencer-Williamson Funeral Home who knows about him because of the owner’s wife being on the County Cemetery Board. Matt had originally counseled us to wait a bit before having the work done; Jay County was considering popping for restoration of the whole burying ground, but alas, they decided against it for now. The counties here do that on a fairly regular basis.

Chris found a Chase Bank here that enabled us to begin working on Dad’s estate stuff. We don’t bank with them, but Dad did and since we have been handling his affairs for years, we have become acquainted with them. The one here was equally as impressive as the one in Chino Valley insofar as customer service, the like of which one seldom sees any more.

We love Country Bank for the same reason; this is over the top, however, especially when you consider they’ve never seen us before and never will again (at least not after I take back the magazine I borrowed today). We won’t be able to do much more until we get home except I should order his stone, just been putting it off. If we were home, we’d have to be clearing out his mobile and all that stuff I’d rather not do, so happy to defer it for a while.

Chris was excited about getting a photo of the nearly full moon this evening after we got home.

More actual plans: stay here through Tuesday, take an extra day in Kentucky for further exploration of the Cumberland Pass area, and get to North Carolina on Friday. That will be two days of driving with one of fun in the middle, then finally we get to Mom and Dad’s.

Genealogy library and not much more
September 1, 2009

We have gotten as far back in time zones as we will go this time - Eastern Standard Time - three hours earlier than home. I’m sure I’m not the first person to wonder if I keep going this direction, will I get younger. Let’s see: 24 time zones to gain a day. Somehow, it sounds as if it would be so exhausting that you’d lose more than you’d gain.

I swear it is not my doing, but I think the travelogue is sending itself twice each time. Last place, I could barely get it to go at all and now it’s so anxious it doubles up. Cousin Joyce suggested that I look into getting internet service through my cell phone while traveling so as not to be constrained by poor local providers. We will look into doing that, perhaps not until next trip, but will have to weigh the cost of that service. We knew it was pretty pricey when we checked it out quite a ways back.

We are camped just outside the town of Bluffton. We had never been here before, and just love the town. We are totally taken with its lovely old residential neighborhoods and love the marvelous historical downtown that seems vital and prosperous.

This afternoon, we stopped in Bluffton to check out the trail system along the Wabash. Didn’t go far because of perishable groceries in the truck but we were impressed with the outdoor amphitheater on the river’s bank. And when I saw that there is an art show while we are here, starting today actually, I walked over to the gallery to check the hours. I thought it very odd that they are having a show around Labor Day but closing for the entire three-day weekend! Anyway, I saw a bit of the artwork (it’s all local artists) and want to return to enjoy the show.

Fort Wayne is about 25 miles from us, an easy enough drive. Today was our first time into the library there. It is renowned for its genealogy collections and for good reason. We decided to start in with the family history section. It seems obvious we will not advance beyond that. Because of the mass of material, we had to get seriously systematic: Chris started in the Zs; I began with the As. With 796 direct ancestors in our charts, we are sure to miss someone without referring to the index as we go.

Even so, we will have to further organize to even finish with that one department, so we will type up indexes tonight before our return and save the time we would have been doing that in the library. In about five hours, I am up to Baker and Chris has gotten to Vance: pretty obvious that we need to move along. They must have a zillion books and then there are zillions more microfilms and fiche.

Downtown parking is at a premium - that alone is costing us $7 per day, then copies at ten cents each is adding up rapidly with our stacks of reproductions. Thank goodness they don’t charge admission! The place is fairly uncrowded, though, and comfortably set up for research with power outlets in the center of the tables for the laptop. Speaking of laptops, we will bring the second one for subsequent work to facilitate looking up information about people in order to determine if we have found the correct people. Can't be dueling over computers.

This area lacks for its usual rainfall; the rivers are lower than normal and we’ve seen crops that are suffering. The RV park remains at about 1% occupancy as shown by this pic of our view. We have one neighbor; they’re here for the giant car show (the largest one in the country? in Fort Wayne? I didn’t pay too much attention to those details).

Last year, we were here in late October and were sweat hogs. This year in August I'm wearing a sweatshirt and using three blankets at night - what's going on?

Best business name: Just Add Water Boats (they even allow test drives on their little lake).

Best real estate slogan: Everything we touch turns to sold.

Best farm name: Ample Acres

From Creole to Amish
August 31, 2009

What a wonderful day we’ve had! I just love it here - the people, the countryside, everything about it feels like coming home, although I can’t put a finger on why that is any more than any other corn and soybean cropland region. It just is. We have left behind the French/Creole settlements of southern Illinois and returned to ancestral lands of Indiana.

We got a late start this morning. I think Chris was tuckered after driving us over here. Granted the roads are exceptionally narrow and we did have a healthy crosswind, which makes it all that much more important to stay focused and more fatiguing. Last year, we stayed at a place called Grandpa’s Farm, which it is, nice but a bit dank and crowded. We like this home out in the country better, and are walking distance to the Wabash River. We camped on the Wabash once farther upstream and thought it looked like an interesting river. Now because of its proximity, the few lyrics I remember to “The Wabash Cannonball” continue to run through my head, will have to research to get the rest so I can at least be driven crazy by the complete song.

As we hurtled toward our ancestral homes today, we were waylaid by a marker for a wonderful old cabin near Balbec. Seems it was a stop on the Underground Railroad - Eliza Harris of Uncle Tom’s Cabin fame was said to have rested there on her journey to Canada. It was standing open, abandoned, so we wandered in and up the interesting wooden stairs that curve around the corner. All very intriguing, a lovely place.

This time we sprayed our feet and legs before venturing into the grass. No more unprotected trekking for me. I’m very grateful the chiggers that have taken up residence around my ankles are pretty darn unitchy compared to others I’ve gotten.

From there we headed to Fairview to revisit the graves of ancestors Joseph Robert McKinney, Anthony Wayne McKinney Elizabeth (Bracken) McKinney, and Nancy Ann (Brown) Hoppes. I was especially interested in them because I had via telephone made arrangements for their stones to be repaired, but have not paid for the work. It has been an odd sequence of events. From recommendations, I had found a man named Matt who agreed to do the work (Anthony’s is a large tall monument and was in danger of falling over from its own leaning weight and Elizabeth’s was broken) but who had not billed me for the labor.

In the meantime, a glitch in transferring data from laptop to desk computer lost Matt’s contact information. Later, I located my original notations in a notebook and called him. He had done the work, he said, and would send a bill, but I’ve never received one, and now the contact seems to have once again disappeared. What a magillah! So now we know the work is completed and done very well, so we have to find him somehow???

Joseph Robert was a soldier in the American Revolution; his son Anthony Wayne (named for the general Joseph served under) fought in the War of 1812.

Next, we drove to the Hillcrest Cemetery which has the burials of more ancestors - Joseph Jefferson McKinney and his wife Elizabeth (Maitlen) McKinney, who were moved from the old Redkey graveyard. Both places have many collateral family members.

Last burying ground today took a bit more wandering, but Chris got us there - the Bethel Church graveyard where we have Sarah (Fiers) Maitlen. Sarah required a bit of casting around before we located her and put flowers on her grave as we did the others. There we did some recording and photographing of family members who had been missed last year. In order to make some of the photographs readable, we did the magic trick of putting shaving cream on the stone face and then using a squeegee to wipe it off. I did photos of before and after on some of them to show the difference.

Another unfinished business lured us back to Isaac and Sarah Maitlen’s farm of long ago. Chris found it for us last year. We knew from an old newspaper account that Isaac was killed in a woodcutting accident on his farm and buried there. When we stopped at the house on that farm during the previous trip, the owner was nice but too rushed to spend any time talking with us. She told us her mother-in-law grew up there and she would ask her about where Isaac’s grave might be. We never heard from them, so I was anxious to return with a bit more time to learn what we could.

We met the same lady (Deb); her husband (Jeff Houston) was home (laid off - a casualty of the economy) and the carpenter (James Burns) who is working on an addition to their house. We had a very enjoyable time talking with them about the history of the farm, our other area ancestors, places to fish locally and life in general. Deb called Jeff’s mother and let me talk to her on the phone. Martha Houston was very accommodating (her parents bought the place when she was in second grade; she’s now 73) but had never known where the graveyard was. Jeff had found a tombstone once while mowing, that of a child, Sidney Maitlen, whose parents are buried at Bethel.

Since that time, he has discovered a gravestone foundation in a location that we think from the 1838 account is probably the burying ground - described as on a knoll (or what passes for one in Indiana). We discussed the possibility of probing the ground in that area to try to find Isaac’s stone, and may return to do that. Jeff is amenable to that idea.

Martha knew about the burying ground as a child, remembered folks talking about it and had a vague idea of its location but never saw any stones.

It was interesting that while Jeff was ripping out insulation in the attic preparatory to adding their partial second story, he found some Maitlen names and papers attached to the wall. They seem all to be from the 1920s; he gave them to me as the nearest thing to family hereabouts.

Turns out that both men have fished and canoed the nearby Mississinewa River and that James has a good friend who owns the property our Anthony McKinney owned and lived on and where he had a dam on the river for his gristmill. We wanted to get to the site but had not because of the private property although we’ve since learned that there seems to be nothing left of the mill and just a remnant of the dam, so we didn’t really miss anything. It was my longtime dream to come here to look for that after reading about it in an old history.

Everyone was super nice, even to the point of having us pick tomatoes out of their garden before we left - yum!

I had earlier seen a sign offering Silver Queen sweet corn, a delicious variety we used to grow, so we headed there to pick up some for supper. Gardener Gene Gleeson was quite a convivial fellow and we spent substantial time chatting with him and then with his wife Darlene when she arrived. All locals, the families know each other and about the missing Maitlen graveyard. In fact, Gene has a friend who has a gravestone supposedly from there. We will have to follow up on that; Gene didn’t know the name on it.

Darlene had just returned from the doctor: she is in treatment for breast cancer, a situation that caused the couple to miss their annual winter trek to visit their two sons who live in Mesa and Gilbert, Arizona. We thought all the folks were just swell, as we have about everyone we’ve ever met here. We came away from the Gleeson’s place not only with corn, but great squash, eggplant, bell pepper and sweet onions - prime produce. Gene knows his stuff; we are picky former truck farmers and he gets our full approval.

Our shagginess led us to look for “our” haircutter in Portland. That strange story began last summer when we were here after ten weeks on the road. I had thought to let my hair grow out until I could return to Julie in Prescott. She has cut my hair for years and always does a bang-up job of it, couldn’t imagine asking a total stranger to take the shears to my head. At any rate, the growing-out routine proved to be gruesome, not to mention Chris was disappearing into the brush. Soooo, last year when I happened to notice an elderly lady in Portland who had an awesome haircut, I spontaneously asked where this total stranger had it done. She directed us to a small shop down the road that invited walk-ins, and so we did. A young lady named Amanda took us in hand then, and was there and available for us again. We are once again as presentable as we get.

Amazingly, she not only remembered the two hairy strangers, she recalled why we had come here. Now she is all abuzz about her upcoming wedding (500 invited, 7 bridesmaids) that she and her fiancé have been saving up to provide full dinner and open bar for. Holy ringbearer, Batman, that’s going to take a bundle!

Now we have seen information about Loblolly Marsh and Limberlost Swamp, so will be looking into a sizable stop there between researching in Fort Wayne and probing around on Isaac Maitlen’s farm and fishing and who knows what else.

Movin’ and musin’
August 30, 2009

A longer driving day than we prefer: we are traversing from west to east most of Illinois and Indiana, but then will light for another week or so. We were a bit concerned about space availability around the Labor Day weekend, so opted to sit it out. Rowdy will be happy, no doubt. He may have thought we were going live in Cahokia after being there for nine nights, probably a record stay for us, so hid under the covers this morning when he noticed the signs of departure.

Despite being an Illinois native, Chris has not seen the part of the state we’re crossing nor any of the southern region we’ve been exploring. He has spotted a section way down in the southern tip around Rend Lake that he wants to set up camp next time we are here. Because of our longish day today, we are again utilizing Interstate 70 to make our dash. Have just crossed Highland Silver Lake, which looked like a nice place to kayak as it wound through tree-lined banks. The only problem with places like that is finding cleared spots to get out of the boats and stretch cramped legs. There have been times when we’ve slipped and slid on slimy muddy banks trying to get a foothold without kicking the boat away. The possibility of landing belly-down in the mud whilst my boat drifts out to sea has crossed my mind.

The blog has felt somewhat burdensome this past week partly because of the internet connection shutting down in the midst of things. It has made me think about ceasing the endeavor. It has been very enjoyable, but the glitches have made it take much more time than I want to spend on it. I was up until midnight last night trying to get it posted and the travelogue emailed, and still was not successful until this morning. This will require some thought about the advisability of continuing. I know I shall miss it if I do discontinue. As my mother always said, “We’ll see”. In her case, it meant “No way in the world” thus providing no fodder for argument.

How could I not have realized that I could be answering old email correspondence whilst zooming down the road is beyond me, just thought it wasn’t possible because of no internet while driving, but my partner has informed me that I can reply to emails already received, will just have to wait for wifi to send them. Of course there is the small matter of power; that battery lasts only so long.

Note to self: thunk base of hand on forehead to indicate feeling foolish.

On our long sojourn last year, we set an intention to produce Chris’ third music cd. The most hectic itinerary imaginable made it impossible to accomplish. And then we were scooping up new ancestors by the bucketful. Soooo, this year we (I really) duplicated the intention, but am having little success in convincing the musician.

By direct questioning, I did manage to get him to say what genre of cd he would do next if he were doing it. He came up with two alternatives - folk and Celtic - and we formulated a tune list for each. So now we have two possibilities complete with tune lists. I even have some ideas for the cover designs. All that is required is to record them . . . oh, is that all.

It was 60 degrees when we left home this morning. A couple of hot days in the past week, but otherwise, the weather has been surprisingly pleasant.

Midway across Illinois, we are surprised to see oil wells, had no idea there was such here. Other than that, it has been pretty much large tree-lined farms, soybeans and corn without change.

As we advance eastward, the monotonous flat farmland gives way to slightly hillier topography and signs of some peach orchards and vineyards. It has scarcely warmed up - 65 at 11 a.m. with unforecast rain threatening. As we proceed across Indiana, the rolling ground rearranges itself back into tabletop mode.

We have set up in our new home, a new KOA plopped into the middle of miles of corn fields, totally peaceful and quiet. It was clearly a not-long-ago woodlot that has been opened up by removal of bunches of trees; this fact seems obvious because the trees (lots of ‘em) that remain are very tall and spindly with no low branches.

The workkampers, Glen and Marlena, who checked us in are very friendly snowbirds - here in summer, warmer climes in winter. The temps went a bit higher than forecast: all the way up to 70. I have to keep pinching myself to be sure it’s real. We have no neighbors a’tall but I suspect Labor Day will change that.

I shot this photo of Rowdy leading us into the park. Somehow he always knows when it’s time and props himself up on the dashboard watching to be sure we get it right. In about six months on the road with him, we’ve yet to pull into an RV park without his assistance.

Chris has run off to town ostensibly to purchase something to grill, perhaps also to get a span of time away from his family. These constant very close quarters are a maker-or-breaker. From one minute to the next, we’re not sure which way it’s going, but one thing is sure: you can’t leave it to fester, a good lesson.

I was very unhappy with myself this morning when I discovered that those few unguarded minutes yesterday wading into unmowed grass to read a sign about Lewis & Clark netted us chiggers. We have been so careful up until now, but yesterday, I guess a false sense of security sent us off into chigger land. It’s kinda like unprotected sex; it only takes once.