On the Road: From Missouri to Colorado: A Night at Love's

I've left Missouri for a two-month sojourn in Colorado. 

I passed the night in Chez Prius at a Love's in Ellis, Kansas. 

A very cozy bed chamber. 

 

Cozy bed in Chez Prius. Ellis, Kansas. Credit: Mzuriana.

I awakened to a glorious dawn, co-starring a slice of Americana. 

 

Dawn in Ellis, Kansas, at Love's Truck Stop. Co-starring an A&W. Credit: Mzuriana.

 

Dawn in Ellis, Kansas, at Love's Truck Stop. Credit: Mzuriana.

On the Road to Longmont, Colorado: A Stop in Czechoslavakia, Sort Of

 En route to Longmont, Colorado, I pulled over for gas and other sustenance in Wilson, Kansas. 

Hi, ho! A giant egg! 

Giant Czech egg in Wilson, Kansas. April 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

And no worries, I took more photos of this good egg from different angles and distances, in case you yearned for same. Wilson, in fact, claims that its egg is the world's largest Czech egg:

Giant Czech egg in Wilson, Kansas. April 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

Giant Czech egg in Wilson, Kansas. April 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

There was more visual evidence of Wilson as the "Czech Capital of Kansas:" 

Czech heritage acknowledgement in Wilson, Kansas. April 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

Czech heritage acknowledgement in Wilson, Kansas. April 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

Czech heritage acknowledgement in Wilson, Kansas. April 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

Czech heritage acknowledgement in Wilson, Kansas. April 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

The giant egg puts me in mind of the Big Alaskan Road Trip that my daughter, Kit, and I took back in the 90s, which Kit deemed the trip of "Buttes and Big'uns," thanks to the many "largest in the world ..." roadside attractions we visited, in addition to the countless buttes in the northern plains.

But I digress. Below is Wilson's historic opera house, undergoing restoration: 

Historic opera house undergoing restoration. Wilson, Kansas. April 2023. Credit: Mzuriana.

So why the hell did the Czechs land in Wilson? 

They came to build the railroads, back in the 1870s. They left their homes in Europe because of poverty, for the most part. American railroad companies even advertised in Czech papers about the opportunities to be found in the American plains.

Also, early Czech arrivals to Kansas wrote back home about the opportunities in Kansas for work and land. Some Czechs, already in the US, simply migrated west from the American east.

On the Road: Kansas: COVID-19 Unfolding, Part 26: Minneola and the Confederates

 

Trump and Confederate flags fly together forever. Minneola, Kansas. June 2020.

 I left maskless Meade, with its coded "Situation," and just up the road a bit, passed through Minneola.

On this road trip into the Midwest, it has been so disconcerting to see how people twin Trump with the traitorous Confederate States of America, founded to protect the practice of enslaving women, men, and children.

It is raw racism, unmasked and unashamed.

I can get that this is part of the Trump brand. 

But how does one reconcile the pairing of the United States flag with the Confederate flag, as if they were equal? Isn't this action on the level of burning the American (that is, the United States of America) flag? 

 

On the Road: Kansas: COVID-19 Unfolding, Part 25: Meade and The Situation

Meade City Park in Meade, Kansas. Campground and playground. June 2020.

En route from Tucson to Missouri, I stopped in Meade, Kansas, for two nights.

On Wednesday evening, I visited the pleasant city park. There is a campground there, making it a welcome and comfortable retreat for RVers passing through.

There is a pretty playground, too, and it gave a nod to COVID.

Meade City Park in Meade, Kansas. Playground. June 2020.

Meade City Park in Meade, Kansas. Playground and COVID sign. June 2020.

Meade City Park in Meade, Kansas. Playground and COVID sign. June 2020.

I noticed a clutch of people with musical instruments across a parking lot from the playground. Ah! A small outdoor concert! Fabulous - a safe event outdoors with everyone able to choose their physical distance and still enjoy the music and (careful) conviviality of being with other humans IRL. If they chose to be careful, that is.

The musicians: Talented! Old-timey Christian songs, pleasantly nostalgic.


The music ended, and I learned that several clergy had pulled together to host this event for the purpose of offering solace and fellowship in this Difficult Time.

I reckoned, at first, that the clergy intended to talk about COVID, and maybe also some about the Black Lives Matter protests. 

COVID didn't come up at all. They talked about the protests. But they didn't use the word "protest."



Here are words I heard from the four ministers, all uttered with calm, reasonable, and pastoral tones of voice:

• Race riots
• Fear
• Mobs
• Riots
• Fear
• "The events"
• "The situation"
• Fear
• Arson
• Looting
• Criminal acts

As I listened to the four members of the clergy from Meade, I felt confused. It was like they spoke in code. I understood the words. I understood the usual meanings of the words. But there was an overlay of meaning that kept me asking myself: "What is he really saying here?"

A minister of Meade, Kansas, at Meade City Park. June 2020.

There was much talk by each minister about how the protesters (my word) should turn to God and find peace and healing. There seemed to be an assumption that protesters (or, as the Meade ministers might call them: "rioters") are not people of faith. It seemed to be further implied that people of faith do not protest (my word). Maybe the thinking is: They protest (my word), therefore they have no faith. 

This talk of fear. Fear .... that Meade residents have? 

Fear of what? This wasn't explained. But maybe for Meade residents, it was understood.

A minister of Meade, Kansas, at Meade City Park. June 2020.

When a Black clergy woman strode to the stage, I had two thoughts:

• "Oh! I am pleasantly surprised at Meade! A person of color is at this table!" (Because I have my own biases about small Kansas towns.)
• "I want to hear what she has to say! Surely she'll bring some balance to this talk about riots, arson, looting and the lack of God in the protesters' (my word) lives." (Yes, I profiled her perspective based solely on her complexion.)

But no.

The minister, originally from Kenya, described a harrowing experience back home in which white folks shot at her husband while he and she were in their car, and threatened to cut off her hands! The minister related how she called to Jesus in her mind, and felt supreme confidence that Christ was not going to allow these men to harm her and her husband any further, and they did not! ..... And, she declared, it's this kind of faith and confidence that all of us should embrace.

For one, oh my gosh! What a horrific experience to have suffered! I cannot imagine the terror she must have felt.

But: George Lloyd called out for heavenly intervention, and the police murdered him anyway.

What is it the minister from Kenya - and the other Meade clergy - want African-Americans to do?

Be quiet, keep their heads down, pray?

Maybe the message is for African-Americans to do nothing. Maybe the message is that age-old one that colonizers and oppressors and their compliant missionaries disseminated to the oppressed: Accept your lot and get your reward in heaven.

I puzzled over this during the event, and afterward, and again when I arrived at my friend, Kate's, house in Missouri, who is a faithful follower of Christ, and who also protests in the streets, alone and with others. She is not a quiet Christian. Kate couldn't decipher the code either.


There was only one time when any of the ministers used the word justice.

One time.


Meanwhile, the ants on a tree went about their usual business.

Ants at Meade City Park. June 2020.

On the Road: Kansas: COVID-19 Unfolding, Part 24: Maskless in Meade

Highway 54, New Mexico. August 2013.

Highway 54. Two nights in Meade, Kansas.

Crossing the threshold of Meade's Thriftway grocery store thrust me back to pre-COVID times.

No one wore a mask.

There were no plexiglass shields between the cashier and the customers.

Checking into the motel - no masks.

Stepping into the smoke-sodden air of a Meade convenience store - no masks. Oh, I did witness one masked fellow entering the attached restaurant. An out-of-towner like me?

It was all a bit of a culture shock, actually.

On my second day in Meade, I did observe three instances, perhaps, of mask-wearing.

Gosh, it would only take one, asymptomatic, drive-through tourist to set off a viral spark in sleepy ol' Meade.

In the unlikely case I'm infected-but-asymptomatic, it ain't gonna be me to light that spark.

I wore my mask.

Kansas: Hiawatha: Davis Memorial

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Years and years ago, I read about this little town of Hiawatha, Kansas, where a man - John Davis - had created a statuary garden that honored his late wife, Sarah Hart Davis. I imagined a large estate with a vast green lawn, dotted with white-white statues of Ms. Davis at various stages of her life.

Although it never quite worked out for me to visit that memorial, its presence remained filed in one of my brain cubbies.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

But this year, this road trip, it would happen.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Upon researching my way there, my vision of a vast estate dissolved with the information that the Davis Memorial is actually in a cemetery, specifically, the Mount Hope Cemetery. It took me awhile to find the cemetery, but I did, at which point I discovered that the collection of statues that comprise the Davis Memorial are in a compact space.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

The compactness of the space concentrated the impact of the statues. However, the author of this article disagrees.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Some Hiawatha residents questioned Mr. Davis' devotion to his wife while she lived. One wonders. Look at that side-eye below.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Mr. Davis' outlay of more than $200,000 on such frivolity provoked many Hiawatha citizens. It was during the Depression, after all, and Mr. Davis could have spent his wealth on communal amenities such as a pool or a hospital.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

The Davises had no children, and evidently there was no love lost between Ms. Davis' family and Mr. Davis. Some community members whispered that Mr. Davis' memorials to his deceased wife was one way to deny her family members access to his money when he died.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Despite the rumors that spoke to Mr. Davis' motives and stinginess, apparently Mr. Davis regularly and anonymously gave money to people in need.

The author of this article recognizes the irony in the fact that the Davis Memorial attracts tourism dollars to Hiawatha.

Below is a video from Tales of the Midland Empire that tells the story. Or let's say, one of the stories, about the Davises and the Davis Memorial:

On the Way to Colorado: Snapshots

Route

Between Missouri and Colorado, I took Highway 36 most of the way.

I chose this route because it:

• Has a good mix of four-lane interstate efficiency and two-lane relaxing; 
• Passes through Hiawatha and Marysville, Kansas; and 
• Avoids the oft-traveled Interstate 70, which I've seen plenty before. 

There is some sentimental appeal to Highway 36, also. I used Highway 36 on my very first solo road trip when I traveled up to Mount Rushmore. I remember it for being so empty; a highway that I had to myself. Except for when a police officer pulled me over and gave me a ticket because I was driving in the left lane of the highway! Or speeding. He suggested both. On my birthday! Asshole.

I'm also pretty sure my daughter and I took Highway 36 on our road trip to Alaska many years ago. We left on July 4th. I made sure to drive in the right lane.

Hiawatha was of interest because years and years ago I'd read about a cemetery there. It featured a spot filled with white-stone sculptures honoring a man's deceased wife.

I hadn't heard of Marysville before, but a friend exclaimed her charm with it when I mentioned my route options.

Starlite Motel, Seneca, Kansas. May 2016.

Motel stop

It is always a happy gift to find a retro roadside motel on a trip. At exactly the right time in the evening, upon entering Seneca, Kansas, and when I was ready to pull off the road for the night, I spied the Starlite Motel on my left.

The congenial motel owner greeted me, got me registered, and showed me a basket filled with snacks, from which I could select one. Call me a cheap date, but wow, give me a Route 66ish motel, at a retro room rate, and a SNACK, and I'm in love.

The room was super clean and it was comfortable. Free wifi and a decent TV. 


Dead fox

Gosh, it was sad to see this dead fox on the side of the road the next day.

Normally, I don't feel particularly sad when I see road kills. It is a grim cost of efficient vehicular travel between Points A and B.

But I'm no more immune to the unfair-but-real attraction to the cute-and-furry than the next person. There's even a phrase for this: taxonomic bias.

This fox was cute and furry and looked like a juvenile. Most of all, though, it looked like it had been struck down only minutes earlier.

Dead fox, Highway 36, Kansas. May 2016.

I felt some pangs about adding the fox to the carcass collection, but as you can see, I added it nonetheless.

Snow!

It was May, right?

How enthusiastically I pulled over in Colorado when I saw snow along the side of the road! It wasn't even near the mountains!

Snow in May! Highway 36, Colorado. May 2016.

The embedded insect was a lagniappe.


The Eternity Effect

Sometimes you hit points in a road trip where the road seems interminable. You don't want to look at the time because it's likely only five minutes has gone by since you last looked. You don't want to look at the odometer because, shit, you've only gone two miles since the last time you looked!

There's no radio station coming in, and if there were, it'd be something you don't want to hear. You have overdosed on your own playlists, and need a break from these old friends. You've listened to podcasts or that audio book. It's not time to eat. You don't have to pee. And you're miles and miles from your day's destination.

Interstate 36 for most of Colorado was like this.

But that's just part of the deal sometimes. Pieces of a road trip may include monotony, boredom, impatience to reach the next stop.


At least I did this

Thank the baby deity that I stopped for gas in Anton, Colorado. It was a borderline decision - I had enough gas to "just stop at the next town" or even the one after that, under normal circumstances.

I didn't know at the time there were no other gas stations on Interstate 36 between Anton and Byers.

If I hadn't stopped in Anton, that would have just been another problem on top of this one.


Loose ends

For various reasons, neither Hiawatha nor Marysville were in the cards for a stop on the way out to Colorado. Maybe on the way back.


The most important thing

I arrived at my destination safely.