Last Monday, just about the time we were ready to leave for Minnesota, tornadoes, thunderstorms, and three-inch hail invaded the area. So we stayed put for a while. We finally left just a little before midnight.
We drove to Yankton, South Dakota, which is 100 miles north of Columbus, and camped beside Gavins Point Dam along the Missouri River. We were driving the six-door crewcab and pulling the white flatbed trailer, on which we were hauling a pop-up tent camper. We’d also brought along the boys’ tent. This pop-up camper is circa ’72, and looks it, too; but the beds are nice, the canvas doesn’t leak, and it has a sink, small water tank, propane stove, small ice box, little table and benches, and quite a lot of drawer and cupboard space. Someday we will have new canvas put on it, but that will cost $800; and Larry will paint it, which will improve its attitude considerably. The table and bench seats fold down into a bed, so it sleeps six adults. We put Hester and Lydia at one end of a bed, with Caleb at the other end; and we made a little bed for Victoria in a cubbyhole on the floor next to our bed.
The reason we were hauling the pop-up camper on the flatbed trailer was because, in this way, we saved wear-and-tear on the little tires, wheels, and axles on the camper; and it was easier pulling only one trailer, rather than two. Eventually, we would take the camper off the flatbed, hitch it on behind, and put two Ford Explorer bodies on the flatbed.
Evidently fearing we would starve to death en route, Norma made us oatmeal cookies with chocolate-covered raisins, and banana nut muffins, and Esther made us some brownies. (We polished off the cookies before we ever got out of the house.)
As we were departing for Minnesota, Kenny and Annette and their family were heading for Poudre Park, north of Estes Park; and Barbara and her children were going with some friends to the Black Hills. So Norma, experiencing that curious sensation of being between and betwixt, left out, forsaken and forgotten, convinced Lawrence that they should go to Trinidad and Raton.
At the small town of Kenneth, where, of course, we had to mail Kenny a postcard, located on the southwest Minnesotan prairie, we stopped at a long-out-of-service gas station, where Larry put thicker oil into the transmission. These vehicles come from the factory with thin oil, supposedly so they work better in the winter; but Larry says the real reason is so that the gears aren’t lubricated as well, making the transmission give up the ghost sooner, thereby giving the Ford Company more business selling new transmissions, or, better yet, new pickups. This particular pickup, which used to be a four-door crewcab, was driven in the mountains, and, judging from the fifth-wheel hitch it had, and the state of the transmission itself, it pulled many heavy loads on hard climbs.
Eventually we will have to change either the gears or the entire transmission, because it’s been handled roughly, and we can tell by the sound of it that there is considerable wear on the gears. Larry hopes to find one of the new six-speed transmissions for it, because it would be easier on the entire rig if it didn’t have to rev up to such high rpm’s before each shifting. But it will last a while if we handle it carefully.
While Larry was changing the oil, the boys played basketball at a nearby court, and the rest of us walked across the street to the only other business in town—an old general store with a tall false front. There was one person there, an elderly man who was both owner and cashier, and also general handyman-about-the-place. On one side of the store you could have your tires fixed or your oil changed; on the other side you could buy a waffle iron or a carton of milk. The man directed us across the street to the town’s ‘community center’, which used to be either an old house or an old church, telling us we could make ourselves at home, and help ourselves to anything we wanted. We gratefully took him up on his offer, since it was 99° outside. This little building was air-conditioned, and there was a pop machine, and a stove with a huge pot of steaming hot coffee on it. The kids looked longingly at the gallon jugs of cookies; but we left them alone, since, if we’d each taken only one or two, we’d’ve left nothing but crumbs behind. We did take a can of pop, for which we left 50¢. I washed all the coffee cups and spoons people had scattered around, and the littles colored a couple of pictures in a color book, writing their names and address on the pages.
Larry was soon done changing the oil, and we proceeded on to Porter, Minnesota, where we visited Uncle Frank and Aunt Ardis Goslar. Their house is fixed up quite pretty, and three blocks away, they have a cute little cabin on the edge of town. Their grandchildren love to stay overnight at the cabin; they all call it ‘The Ranch’.
Uncle Frank showed us his antique gun collection; he has over 50 old rifles, some of which he sent home from Africa or Germany during World War II. He told us stories about being captured—twice!!—once near Munich, once in Africa. He escaped both times, and has been awarded numerous medals and awards.
Aunt Ardis made a gallon of lemonade, and everybody promptly made like camels. About two minutes later, she noticed Teddy reaching for somebody else’s glass to see if there was any more lemonade. “Here!” she said, reaching for the jug, “Have some m—” She stared into it in surprise. “It’s empty!” She jumped to her feet. “Well! We’ll just make some more!” And she did.
We polished that off, too.
After leaving their house, we drove to Sibley State Park, near New London, where we stayed overnight. People stared at us rather strangely when we’d open up our pop-up camper up there on the flatbed trailer, then shinny up and sleep in it; I guess we did look a bit incongruous, what with a fabulous ’96 six-door crewcab, a nice new flatbed.....and an old ratty pop-up camper perched atop the flatbed. haha They just don’t know how much fun it is to go camping in a skyrise!
In the morning, we discovered that a raccoon had carefully wiped his muddy paws on a washcloth, then dried them on a towel which we’d draped over a picnic table to dry. (At least, that’s what Larry said he was doing.) There were many deer around, too.
We ate breakfast at a wayside stop near a driving range. The kids found dozens of golf balls, of which they kept about six. Teddy found a Spalding graphite golf club in an old abandoned log cabin nearby. Finders, keepers! Larry showed the children how to hit a golf ball—and he smacked one over 300 yards, followed by another that flew far beyond the first and disappeared over the next hill. The kids were duly impressed. Larry calls golfing 'goofing'.
We crossed a rickety wooden bridge to Oliver, Wisconsin; went back to Duluth, Minnesota, on a big bridge, then back to Superior, Wisconsin, and out to a lighthouse on the southern edge of the harbor. We saw many big ships and barges, and some fancy tour boats, too. We would’ve liked to go out in one, but it was too expensive; and, besides, we needed to find a campground. Also, we were on what was mainly a business trip, and people were waiting for their vehicle parts, and the owner of the auto body place was anxiously awaiting his check for said parts.
At supper time, we still hadn’t come to the campground, so we stopped at a little roadside market, where we bought three quarts of fresh strawberries, several kinds of Wisconsin’s famous cheese, a couple boxes of crackers, and a dozen bottles of all sorts of juice. Adding that to Norma’s banana muffins, everybody’s stomachs were kept from rubbing their backbones until we arrived at Pattison State Park, where we ate supper and camped beside Wisconsin’s tallest waterfall, Big Manitou Falls. We bought some wood and made a bonfire to ward off the multitudes of mosquitoes. Since most of the other campers, whom we couldn’t even see through the forest of pines, aspens, and oaks, had a bonfire of their own blazing merrily away, there were not nearly so many mosquitoes as there had been at the other campgrounds. Are you beleaguered with such a plague of mosquitoes as we are? One of the souvenirs I bought is a rubber magnet in the shape of a mosquito, on which is printed, “Minnesota’s State Bird”. For some reason, Victoria claimed it as hers, silly baby.
Leaving Pattison State Park the next morning, we drove south along the beautiful St. Croix River. Stopping in Osceola, Wisconsin, which is an old-fashioned little town all fixed up for tourists, we bought a mosquito trap for Joseph (which he later lost while playing football with his father), a porcelain cup for Hannah on which is painted a robin and a violet, the state bird and state flower, a little china piggy bank with a picture of a dairy farm on the side for Esther, and a silver-plated spoon with ‘Wisconsin’ engraved on it, along with a picture of a farm, for Dorcas’ spoon collection.
The false-fronted stores were built alongside a canyon through which flowed a tributary of the St. Croix River, and their back terraces, upstairs and downstairs, were built over the Cascade Falls. There was a staircase leading to the bottom of the arroyo, 137 steps. Too bad we were in such a hurry! We crossed the St. Croix and the Mississippi Rivers just north of where they join together, and got to Blooming Prairie, Minnesota, at 4:15 p.m., just 45 minutes before they close. It took over an hour to load everything and strap it down, so we wound up keeping the owner late. He didn’t seem to mind, because we gave him a sizable check, I expect. He opened up his pop machine and gave everybody a free can of pop.
Before leaving town, we ordered two large chicken fajita pizzas and one medium supreme, which we scarfed down in nothing flat.
That morning, shortly after getting up, we’d noticed that Lydia seemed to have quite a number of mosquito bites, or perhaps a rash, on her arms. But I wasn’t positive what it was, and, since she’d been on antibiotics, I suspected that they might be hives. So I didn’t give her any more antibiotics, just in case.
Two hours later, there were red dots all over her face, neck, and legs. Another hour, and the dots had turned to welts. By afternoon, the dots had grown so large, they’d run into each other, and the child was beet red from head to toe! I called our doctor, and he told us to buy antihistamine as quickly as possible, and have her drink as much water as she could.
We sped up until that rig was flying over the Minnesota hills and dales, hoping that over the next hill we would come upon a convenience store where we could buy some medicine for her. I kept giving her water, till she tried to tell me she couldn’t drink anymore – but by then her throat was so swollen, she could hardly talk, and she was steadily having more trouble breathing. I tell you, it was getting more frightening than the fire in her hair had been.
You can’t imagine our relief when we finally found a store. We bought some antihistamine, although they didn’t have the kind we really needed, and gave her lots of water, along with some Tylenol, since she was starting to run a fever. Dr. Luckey told us the fever was caused by the hotness of her skin, caused by the hives themselves.
By Friday, her face, lips, and fingers were quite swollen. We bought a more expensive kind of antihistamine, which took effect promptly. She’s all better now, but you can be sure, we’ll be mighty careful about antibiotics from now on! No more Amoxicillin.
Stopping in Albert Lea, we washed all our clothes, which delayed us about an hour; but we were afraid we might not make it home that night, and all our towels and washcloths were damp, since they couldn’t dry overnight in such humid weather.
We took a short jaunt off the interstate to Jackson, Minnesota, to mail a postcard to a Jackson aunt. We pulled away from the mail-drop box.....and were immediately stopped by a policeman: we were going the wrong way on a one-way. As usual, the policeman let Larry off without even a warning...even though both trailers were missing a license plate! (One was new; the other had been lost.) The officer wished us a safe, pleasant trip, and told us to come back through (going the right way, of course). If that would’ve been me, he’d’ve fingerprinted me, and held me up while he searched the computers for a matchup to any unsolved murders.
At the last truck stop in Minnesota, Dorcas was delighted to find a fancy silver spoon from Minnesota for her collection—and Keith was pleased to find another china piggy bank, this one in mother of pearl, with ‘Minnesota’ printed on it, and a picture of a loon, their state bird. The nose on both pigs is a heart, and there is a heart behind each ear. After arriving home, Keith went to the bank and purchased three rolls of shiny, 1998 pennies, with which he filled the little banks to the brim. Esther was enchanted with them.
I am about three-quarters done typing the letters you sent me; I’ll return them just as soon as I finish.
Friday evening, Keith and Esther took Hester with them to the Sirloin Buffet, which pleased her no end. In the meantime, Bobby, Hannah, and Dorcas went visiting David and Christine, taking their little girl Lynette a small jointed bear with a ruffly crocheted jumper Hannah had made for her birthday. It matches the vest Hannah made Lynette for Easter, which matches Hannah’s own vest of fuchsia sparkly yarn.
Hannah is almost done crocheting the largest afghan she’s ever done. It’s made of soft ivory yarn, has ribbon woven around the edge, and bows and ribbon roses at each corner. She’s just now working on the fringe, which is long and tied with macramé-type knots. It is for her hope chest.
Imagine our surprise when, that evening about sunset, we looked up to see, straight over our house, a parachute with a man drifting down!
I stayed home from church with Lydia yesterday; she was still a bit speckled, and she had a headache and stomachache. By last night, however, she felt well enough to go with us to the Wrights’ house for Bobby’s birthday party. They gave us Dairy Queen ice cream cake. Mmmm.
We came home, and I dressed Victoria in a little nightgown, lined with fleece, which Bethany, Bobby’s mother, had made for Dorcas when she was a baby.
And now, I’m going to tip and tail some green beans a friend of ours brought us from her garden. We really like fresh green beans.
