Road Trip

When you tell someone that you're taking a

summer road trip to Iowa,

it's almost like they feel sorry for you.

Why would we drive 14 hours from one small town to visit another?

To cultivate some roots. Mathilda's roots.

And I love it.

How can you not fall in country love with this beautiful place?

You can see it coming from miles away.

Swoony!

I remember Mom getting almost giddy, telling stories about growing up here.

Like the story of the traveling gypsies, selling their wares.

From the farm, they could see the gypsy wagons coming down the long road,

and the family would run inside, pull the curtains shut, lock the doors,

and hide inside until the gypsies passed.

Spooky!

In a few days, we'll gather around tables and talk about the people 

of generations past who lived off this land and called this place home.
There will be stories and pictures for every generation--
from gingham and feedsacks to bellbottoms and big hair.
We'll fill up on memories and tears and laughter--
and hopefully, Aunt Judy's roast beef sandwiches.

 

 

Oh! And those wonderful names. They just don't name them like they used to:

Adrianna 

Wilmyna

Edna Julia

 Adrian

  Henry James

Engelbert

Gertrude

Gerritt

Wilber

Harriet

Mathilda

Lawrence

Clarence

Helen

Milton

Harold

I guess people don't normally have 16 children now days either.

Seriously!

Look at all those faces, each with a story to tell. One of those girls is my Momma. 
Just look for the girl near the middle that looks a bit like me, and you'll find her.

See that circle thing in the front of the picture?
Somebody with more farm smarts would remember what that is called. 

We'll take our picture there. We always do.

We've been coming here for a long time.

On one visit, when  I was young enough to believe him,

Uncle Milt told me he'd sneak a kitten into my suitcase before we left.

I was a more than a little disappointed when we got home.

It was hard coming back the first time without Mom and Dad.

But I always feel very, very loved in this place.

It's a piece of my Mom.

So, it's a piece of me too.

Corn fields and cousins, here we come!