Chickasha, Oklahoma
November 6, 2022
I feel like when I was in college and got behind writing lab reports -- there's a sense of being overwhelmed by the task and also of hoping I don't leave out any important details.
It was great to hang out in Marysville, Kansas. I really enjoyed being able to camp in town and the town's park. Both nights I was there there were other campers -- one night tents and RVs and the second night just RVs. I've grown fawn of crawling into the back of Hi Ho Silver when it gets dark and watching a movie (more likely a documentary) and listening to a book or a podcast. I've learned so much by listening to history -- especially shows that take a deep dive into a subject. But I will admit that my favorites are those where I find the voices relaxing -- if I can't have my fan noise, a good calm voice will do. (I realize that I can use my white noise app on my phone but I enjoy the company of someone speaking to me.
US 36 as you can see from above is a very straight road. This part of Kansas is a bit rolling so there is an up-and-down aspect to the straightness. I love the color of the fields -- many are golden, especially in the morning light. The fields make me think of this song:
You might have noticed a lot of things remind me of this song. 🤪
Among the highlights of this day's wanderabout were visiting the towns of Cuba, Belleville, Mankato and Lebanon. Lebanon is the town closest to the geographic center of the Lower 48 (which I also visited). At the geographic center there was a sign where folks have put stickers so I added my "Going To Paris" sticker; I also put a "Going To Paris" sticker on a nearby trashcan, hoping that I would start folks putting stickers on it as opposed to putting stickers over stickers. There must be a protocol regarding stickers on stickers but I don't know what it is; I try to avoid going on top of stickers I can still read.
On my way to Cuba and in Cuba:
Note: Regarding the national Orphan Train Museum, between 1854 and 1929, an estimated 250,000 orphaned, abandoned, or homeless children were transported to rural communities across the country in hopes of providing a better life for them. Holy cow!
Note: Interesting articles about Cuba:
Amazing photos shot by the National Geographic photographer:
On my way to and in Belleville:
On my way and in Mankato:
On my way to and at the geographic center of the Lower 48:
In Lebanon:
I will continue to write and write about these rural towns. Each time I see a town that is clearly not at its peak, it is like the first time. It is shocking. I still haven't wrapped my head around it. How unaware have I been my whole life not to understand what has happened to to so many rural communities.
From Lebanon I headed toward Tipton...
... but I was interrupted by the site of sand (more like dirt) green golf course outside of Downs.
As soon as I pulled into the empty parking lot, I recognized it from the short film "A Slice of Paradise" that Lucian told me about.
The film is so well done -- it really touched me when I first watched it. But now having been to Downs and to Tipton -- both featured in the film -- I can relate to it so much more. There is nothing like truly experiencing a place to have a visceral feel about the soul of the place.
Upon watching the film again, I saw something that I had missed; the man with the lovely baritone voice passed away before the film was released. That hurt me. It hurt me because after playing a few holes at Downs and visiting the town, I understood what he was talking about at a whole different, deeper level. And I thought about how people in these rural areas are so far from hospitals. I thought about if what happened to me had happened out here, I wouldn't be writing these words.
And I was struck by the closeness of the couples -- holding hands after all these years and still laughing with each other. What an incredible gift. Maybe the greatest one there is.
You want to know something about the folks who play a golf course -- look in the trash can. Hmm, a lot of can of cheap beer.
Let me back up. When I was at the geographic center of the Lower 48, I met a couple from Denver who were on their way back home after cycling in southern Indiana. I offered to take a photo of the two of them and they likewise took my photo. I realized I was not in Virginia any more when the gal asked me if I were from Martha's Vineyard and I realized she had seen that name on my Vineyard Vines quarter zip. Wow -- there is part of this country that doesn't know about Vineyard Vines? I quickly realized that most of the country has not heard of Vineyard Vines and I felt smaller. That was an "aha" moment for me -- that it's not what you wear out here that makes you who you are. As Zac Brown sings in "Chicken Fried:"
This I've come to know
So if you agree, have a drink with me
Raise your glasses for a toast
Speaking of "Chicken Fried:"
Have you ever been to a ZBB concert? During the song, when ZB starts singing this verse
I thank God for my life And for the stars and stripes May freedom forever fly, let it ring
Salute the ones who died The ones that give their lives so we don't have to sacrifice All the things we love Like our chicken fried
A Marine, ramrod straight and with a perfect gait, walks on stage from behind the curtains and salutes. The place goes crazy. It is so amazingly patriotic, even for those of us who haven't done a damn thing to serve our country.
Back to the folks from Denver. I ran into them again at a store (the only one) in Lebanon. I was talking with the cashier who had moved there from Dallas (maybe it was Denver) with his parents. He said it was a bit of an adjustment but that he appreciated the beauty and the quiet. He asked me if I had seen the "ball of twine." Then the gal from Denver hoped in and said it was just down the road in Cawker City. And she asked me if I had been to Carhenge in Nebraska -- I said not yet but after her description I am sure going there!
Turns out that Cawker City is on the way to Tipton so I went there next. Yes, the world's largest ball of twine is located in downtown Cawker City.
At this point I was waaay behind my "schedule" and needed to find a place to park for the night. Fortunately, a few miles east of Cawker City is the Glen Elder State Park located on Waconda Lake. Turns out the park has quite a number of campsites although at this time of year demand is down so I easily had my pick. I chose a primitive (no water or electric) site near the shore as was treated to a wonderful sunset before I turned in.
Man, writing this post has been so emotional. I have broken out in tears several times, overwhelmed with emotions of what I have experienced -- and what I miss. My wanderabout has been so much much more than I ever imagined. I am so much more aware, so much more understanding. I am smarter and much more humble, not that being humble wasn't something I hopefully was before I started this trip. But perhaps most importantly, I feel I am a better person. Better in caring for and about others. In not judging and checking my first reaction ("checking my assumptions.").
That was wonderful, Lucian!!! Thanks!