by jphilo | Sep 27, 2013 | Out and About
I’ve been back from Harding County for almost a week. Just long enough for the dust to settle. Just long enough to look over the pictures taken during the trip. Just long enough to decide that the above picture is indeed worth a thousand words.
Why?
Because the 3 1/2-year-old little girl sitting on the great, big horse isn’t taking part in a horse show, demonstrating what she learned during horseback riding lessons. She’s heading out with her grandpa, her mom, and a neighbor to move a herd of cows from one place to another. Her grandpa was so proud of her, he thought I’d like to snap her picture.
He was right.
Come dinnertime, her grandma said the tyke stuck with the task for several hours. Once it was done, she laid down on the hired man’s four-wheeler and took a half-hour nap while the adults finished up. By the time I sat down to eat dinner, the pint-sized cowgirl was raring to go.
She’s spunky, just like her uncle.
He was in my classroom for first, second, and third grade way back when. He began each day of first grade by driving an old car down their long lane to the road to the school bus stop. The summer after his first grade year, he once drove a pick up with me, his teacher and passenger, up a hill to show off a windmill and stock tank he’d helped his dad install. On the way up the hill and on the way down, he asked me to climb out of the pick up, open the gates, wait for the truck to go through the gates, and then climb back in the truck. Which I did. Until he reached the last gate and drove off without me.
I am not making this up.
My former student died of viral encephalitis when he was 28. Family members left behind included his young wife, a 2-year-old son, a sister, and his parents. The loss left a gaping hole in their lives. One they, and all who loved this young man, feel to this day. And yet they, like so many in Harding County, encourage their children not to shrink from the dangers of this world, but to conquer them. Instead of saying, “You’re too little to get on a great, big horse,” they teach them how to ride. And when the kids are ready, they say,
“Ride ’em, Cowgirl!”
by jphilo | Sep 20, 2013 | Out and About
Today’s my last day in Harding County’s wide open spaces. The weather’s been spectacular, old friends have been more than welcoming, and the students I worked with Tuesday and yesterday were delightful. The kids shared their perspectives about life on the short grass prairie, which enabled me to see the county with their young eyes. Hopefully, those perspectives will ooze into my mystery novel and make this place come alive for readers.
But who wants to wait until the mystery is published (if it’s ever published) to get a feel for this place? Certainly not me! So here’s a sneak peek at what the kids, ages 8–12, say needs to be in a book to show readers what makes Harding County Harding County.
- So many people come during hunting season, my dad makes me wear bright colors whenever I’m outside.
- The wind.
- There are tractors and hay bales everywhere.
- Our county history makes this place what it is, especially Tipperary Arena and the statue of Tipperary, the bucking horse.
- Cattle wander and disappear into other people’s pastures, and we have to go find them.
- Small towns.
- The huge, flat places.
- The buttes.
- It’s tough to live here, especially during a drought.
- Horses and rodeos.
- People trail cattle right across the highway.
How in the world can all that be worked into one mystery novel? It may be an impossible task. Which means it’s time to think about a long series. Hmmm.
by jphilo | Sep 16, 2013 | Out and About
Traveling light. That was my goal for this trip out west to cowboy country in Harding County. A goal which the overflowing trunk and back seat of my car shows that I failed miserably. As usual.
Why?
Because of thought processes that took root in my troubled brain when we lived in Harding County during my formative young adult years. 23 miles from the nearest grocery store. 70 miles from the nearest big box store, restaurant, dentist, eye doctor, small town hospital, library, or major grocery store. 120 miles from a regional hospital, shopping mall, or book store. At least a decade before Starbucks was invented. And 2 decades before the nearest Starbucks (120 miles away) came to the Black Hills.
No wonder this is how I think when packing.
Take old clothes–jeans, short and long sleeved knit tops, socks, undies, jammies–to last a week. Oh, and 1 nice outfit for when you speak at the school. Make that 2 nice outfits since you’ll go to church. Plus some sleeveless shirts in case it gets hot. And sandals. Add tennies for morning walks and dress shoes. Better take a light jacket, too.
Oh, wait, remember the year it snowed 12 inches on September 19?
Better throw in a winter coat. Boots, too. Plus a hat and gloves. Maybe it would be wise to throw in a blanket and pillow in case the car blows a tire and I’m stranded on a deserted gravel road. And extra toiletries because if the contact solution, toothpaste, or lotion runs out, I’ll have to go without. Remember your vitamins and allergy drops, too.
Those darn allergies.
Better take a cooler stocked with almond milk and dairy-free bread since the grocery store in Buffalo wont’ have those. How about some non-dairy snacks for the long drive? Good idea. And decaf coffee. Along with the french press so I can brew my own in the mornings once I get there. Should I take a dozen ears of sweet corn for my hosts? No, it won’t last the 3 days it takes to get there. That’s a bummer.
Then again, not a bummer since the goal is to travel light because it’s a long trip.
Good thing I stocked up on audio books to to listen to during the long drive? Will 6 be enough? It’s miserable to run out. Which reminds me, did I pack my Bible and journals? Pens? Pencils? The mystery novel to read before bed each night? And the iPad with a few more books downloaded onto the Kindle app?
Ohmygosh, I almost forgot copies of my books.
Better fill a plastic tub with those. Bookmarks, too, and business cards. Cash for making change. Along with the Square device if anyone wants to pay by credit card. What about the iPad charger? Phone charger? Should they go in the suitcase or my computer case?
My laptop!
I have to take the laptop to do writing in my spare time. Also the good camera. The iPod to listen to during morning walks. Laptop charger. Camera charger. iPod charger. And the Day Planner definitely has to come, or I won’t know when to be where.
Is that everything?
It has to be. There’s no more room in the car. Anything more, and I’ll need a trailer to haul everything. No way am I driving the whole way with a trailer. This is everything. Not one thing more. Not one.
Wait. Where’s my purse?
Photo credit: www.freedigitalphotos.net
by jphilo | Sep 13, 2013 | Out and About
In just a few hours, I’ll be on my way to the McFarthest spot where Hiram and I lived for seven years. We moved there in 1978, two shiny new college graduates with our first grown up jobs. Seven years later, we returned to Iowa so our three-year-old son could be closer to doctors and a children’s hospital.
When we left Harding County, a tiny bit of my heart stayed behind, though I didn’t know it way back then. But with the passing of years and decades, it calls to me disguised as longings for the immense sky and the cool night air, for elbow room and old friends. In answer, I pull out my mystery novel manuscript and let my imagination take me there.
But this week I’m making the long drive west and north to do background research.
I want to smell the air, see the small towns, and hear gravel ping against the fender.
Feel my stomach lurch as the car rounds the curve at the crest of the Jump-Off.
Remember what it was like to live without cell phone service and wireless wi-fi.
Visit the school where I once taught, where a former student teaches now.
Hug old friends.
Share old memories.
All in an effort to pour this far away, precious place and the kind of people who live there into a fiction story. So readers who don’t live there and don’t know what they’re missing can fall in love with my McFarthest spot. So the remote and vast land that captured my heart 28 years ago captures their hearts, too.
Are you there yet?
by jphilo | Aug 26, 2013 | Out and About
Camp Dorothy’s very own Thelma and Louise are home, dog-tired and sweaty, after a hot weekend on the road. And I mean hot. Really hot. How hot was it?
I’m glad you asked.
If you remember, the purpose of our trip was to attend the 67th high school reunion for Camp Dorothy’s namesake. The reunion supper was held in Pipestone, Minnesota’s historic hotel, the Calumet Inn. The Calumet was restored some years back, and just got a second facelift, courtesy of the folks at Hotel Hell.
I’m not making this up.
The weather turned hot, hot, hot on Saturday with heat and humidity both in the upper 90s. So the camp director made a recognizance run before the festivities, to scope out parking spots and the quickest, most stairless route for Dorothy. That done, the clueless camp director returned to the overnight digs so she and Dorothy could get all gussied up for a hot night on the town. Which turned out to be a whole lot hotter than anticipated.
Because the air conditioning was out at the Inn.
Though the staff had fans to keep the air moving, kept the ice water flowing, and even handed out damp, chilled washcloths, it was still hot. So hot my dress stuck to the varnish on the back of the wooden chair every time I leaned forward. So hot condensation puddles formed instantly beneath cold glasses. (BTW, it’s possible to surreptitiously wet one’s hand in the puddle and trickle water down one’s leg, arms, and cleavage without being detected. Don’t ask how I know this.) So hot the establishment treated everyone to a free round of drinks.
Why we didn’t pack up and move to an air conditioned venue?
Because once octogenarions get where they’re going they tend to stay put. Two members used walkers and three used canes, and though the remainder of the group was surprisingly spry and ambulatory, they were also sympathetic to the limitations of their former classmates.
So there we were, two hot babes out on the town.
One with her dress stuck to the back of the chair. The other swapping stories with former classmates. Both of them enjoying the music provided by a male quartet (with one member who graduated in 1942) whose only nod to the the heat was to sit on tall stools as they sang. Sure, we were hot. But, we were also alive.
What more could two hot babes out on the town wish for?
by jphilo | Aug 23, 2013 | Out and About
Camp Dorothy’s doing a road trip this weekend. The camp director is taking the camp’s namesake to Pipestone Minnesota for….are you ready for this…her 67th high school class reunion.
While the camp director is game to go, Dorothy’s been raising objections since the invitation arrived in the mail 6 months ago. The most consistently-voiced objections are:
- I won’t remember anyone. To which the camp director responded, “Since everyone there will be 85, you’ll all be in the same boat.”
- My high school experience wasn’t all that fun. Camp director countered with, “Maybe after 67 years, it’s time to change that.
- I don’t want to go. To which the camp director said, “You’re alive. You’re able to go. You’re going.”
Yes, the camp director is on the hard-nosed side, but believe me, she learned the skill from a master. But the camp director is not heartless, so she’s arranged a Thelma and Louise kinda road trip over the weekend. No encounters at seamy, roadside bars, mind you. But there will be stops at Dorothy’s niece’s house in Storm Lake, an overnight stay with her sister in Le Mars, and a night at the home of a Pipestone nephew.
However, an attempted car leap over the Pipestone National Monument quarry has been forfeited in lieu of the reunion dinner Saturday night and a brunch Sunday morning. Following the brunch these two Thelma and Louise wannabe’s will make the 5 1/2 return trip home, just in time for Wheel of Fortune.
Now does that sound like a hard-nosed camp director to you?
