My brother and sister-in-law were up bright and early to get started showing us the sights. And to collect their child. My brother always does the funnest stuff with his kids and wanted to share it with our kids. We paused on the way out to admire the garden. My parents garden is stunning. And to let the kids play more because they hadn’t been doing that all morning already and all night the night before.
Then we had breakfast at a great little restaurant. The Goblin Child disappeared with her aunt and uncle before I knew she was leaving and didn’t have any shoes on. Her cousin stayed and rode with us but didn’t have any shoes on. We were lucky the restaurant didn’t kick us out when we showed up with a barefoot child after beating them there. fortunately they showed up with my child and shoes for theirs and the food was delicious.
After filling our bellies it was off to the library in Barrington. Barrington is so beautiful in and of itself of course it’s library would be cool too. They talk about libraries becoming obsolete. This one has risen to the challenge and is in no danger of that. I wish we had one like it near by for those cold winter days.
Then we hiked to the nearby park for more playing and snacks in the tree house.
We went home and played around a bit. Each child fell madly in love with a vehicle. We found a cicada and it’s skin! The 8 and I, The Goblin Child chose to stay and play with her cousin and uncle, went to mom’s barn. This was my barn way back when and I still love it. I got to take a quick spin on mom’s horse Indy, then take the kids around. We cleaned up poop, got to talk to Richard a little then off again for food. The days went to fast and the first one was gone already.
We were too tired after Silver Dollar City to do much else. Earlier in the week grandma had mentioned a cemetery in nearby Republic City where most of her mothers family was buried. A quick google search found it easily and we drove over to find it. The Wade Chapel cemetery was beautiful and old. The Goblin Child and I hopped out of the car to look around while the others drove. I loved looking at the old gravestones. Some were funny, as funny as a gravestone can be, and others brought me nearly to tears. A child less than a year, young children and couples married for decades. We did find grandma’s family, her grand parents and aunt, most of the cemetery did seem to be related to her.
I found a patch of wild strawberry’s and desperately wanted to dig a start but abstained as it did seem wrong somehow. Not to mention there was no way they would have made it home. I can’t believe I didn’t take any pictures.
On the way home we realized we were by the Wilson Creek Battle Field. We used to go there when I was a little kid, the road went through a creek, very exciting at the time, and grandma would tell the story her grandpa used to tell her about himself, or a cousin, time has a way of blurring memories, who was a little boy living at the house there during the battle. The family story has always been that they brought the injured soldiers to the house to care for them. He was sent to fetch water but when he got down to the creek it was red with blood.
It was interesting to compare it with the “official” story. There was a family living here with small children who were sent to fetch water for the soldiers while they used the house for a hospital. There is no mention of the creek running red with blood, they always leave the interesting stuff out, but the signs point out a spring house where they fetched water from. It stands just across the creek. So why go the extra distance for water unless there was reason not to use the creek?
The family story says that the famous general who died at the battle (I don’t remember his name and is it really relevant to this story?) was brought to the house where he died wrapped in the families best quilt. The quilt was displayed at county fairs for years afterwards.
The official story is that he died on the battle field but was wrapped in a quilt. They leave the quilt story there.
The stories of the battle lead to more old family stories that have been told over and over but often get lost to time. While trying to remember if her grandpa had said that he was the one at the battle or one of his relatives grandma told some other great stories. We got to hear more about her grandpa, he was an Indian of the Delaware tribe, we knew that, but also that he had been left behind as a child on the trail of tears and adopted by a white family. How he, a Delaware, was on the trail of tears, thought that was the Cherokee? I don’t know. So many things lost to time, stories forgotten and never written down we will probably never know the whole story but the bits and pieces are fascinating.
We do know he grew up and married a woman named Rose Ella. As a child grandma remembers him singing in his native language and I think I’ve seen a picture of him in a headdress. He wasn’t interested in the children, didn’t sit them down and tell them stories but he would talk about these things and they listened. He walked with them at the battlefield where he told the story as they picked up arrow heads and now it has been carried on for at least one more generation.
I’ve been going there since I was tiny. I dream about it sometimes, usually I’m lost trying desperately to find my way around the place. Still love to go and am glad to be able to take the kids. The Goblin Child is a girl after my own heart, once she got started she wanted to ride all the good rides. The ones she was tall enough for that is. Fire in the hole was a bit much, I think it was the dark more than anything. She loved the Lost River, we did it a couple of times. At the bottom of the log ride, American Plunge, she asked to go again but decided against it by the time we got off. She rode the kiddie roller coaster and would have ridden it again, and again, but I thought we should try a couple of the other rides too.
Where were 8, grammy and grandma during all this? I don’t really know. while we were out running around they sat, slept and watched people go by. We abandoned them completely after the first few sights. I hope they had fun too but who can worry about that when there are rides to ride.
We brought grammy along for a few of the rides. She was sorry when it meant that she had to go with on a few of the rides. 8 was screaming every time I left them to take T.G.C. on a ride, we thought he should get some care and attention form his terrible mother.
Then the time had come for the show. The two of us meandered slowly up to the amphitheater, she wanted to ride more rides. I wanted to get food. We compromised and got food then found the others. The show started with some trick dogs. They were clicker trained so I was quite fascinated. Then there was the usual music. T.G.C. was really getting down to it. Until I got out the camera of course. The night ended with beautiful fireworks and very tired everybody. We made that long miserable trek back up the hill to the waiting car and home at last.
The children and I ran away from home. Of course my always loving husband drove us. Not sure of all the implications there.
He delivered us to my mother who drove way out of her way to pick us up. All so I wouldn’t pack up the kids and head off on a two day drive to my Grandmothers house by our selves. The timing was perfect, my mom was going to see my grandmother for a week, heading home for a week then setting off with my dad to Montana. We could ride with her to my Grandmothers house, then home and they could drop us off on their way west. We could see everyone in one really big trip.
Of course nothing is ever just that easy. We had the hail storm just before time to leave. Traveling with two energetic young children is always difficult. My hard working husband had agreed months ago to DJ a wedding dance at the time mom would be able to meet. So we went down a day early. He hung out with us over night and left after lunch the next day. Mom drove all day and met us for supper that night so we had a day to play by ourselves. The hotel had a pool and across the street was a Tractor Supply and Dairy Queen, we were set.
Unfortunately Tractor Supply was having a big sale. With all of us and our luggage mom’s car was going to be packed to the gills. I bought stuff anyway.
The kids were thrilled to see Grammy, she’s so much fun. The trip down to Grandma’s went nicely, we stopped to play and eat and let the kids run regularly. That combined with stalking Amish made for a long trip but how could we not stop to look at the Amish’s horses? They were fascinating. I always think they are pretty cool so was rather disappointed to see some lame and thin. I suppose it’s like all things and all people, there are good and bad in all things and to lump them all together is the ultimate prejudice. Like with everyone some take good care of their equipment and animals and some don’t.
We did stop at a roadside tent an Amish girl had set up. I asked about her horse and was told in very broken english that it was a male horse. Really? I also thought they spoke english? But it was fun and I bought Shoo fly pie for her trouble. It was delicious and when we shared it later it led to a new, old, song for The Goblin Child from her Grandma:
Shoo fly pie and apple pan dowdy
Makes your eyes light up and your tummy say howdy
We stopped at a civil war memorial and Confederate cemetery where The Goblin Child prayed to be able to see a goose and had that prayer granted. They wanted desperately to play in the lake. That desire was not granted. And we stopped to see a dog statue that mom remembered seeing when they were kids and made the same trip. The story on the plaque was a little different than the one she remembered being told. Grandma always has a way of making stories more interesting.
I know she went last winter but once a week for a couple of months, it was just for fun. Now we’re getting serious. She was excited and chose a beautiful dress. Now she will get to make good use of all her pretty dresses although when I said that she could wear a pretty dress every day she asked why. I was sad to see her go but am trying to make use of the time to get stuff done around here, so far I’ve trimmed hooves and ridden Rusty, that kind of counts.
I was thinking about “Only In A Small Town”. My list of topics to go under that heading keeps getting longer. There were the kids dropped of at the city pool in a windrower, you know the thing you cut hay with. The tree that blew over, nearly missed the nursing home, was the talk around town, caused a traffic jam (Hay Springs style) of cars driving in to see it and made the front page of the paper. Speaking of the paper my tornado picture also made the front page, not credited to me of course 🙂 (on the right)
My hardworking husband stopped for gas on his way home from one of his jobs and ran into these three guys. They were flying to Michigan from somewhere and stopped at the city airport to refuel. Of course there are no tanks there so they drove across the street to the gas station. What fun.
We ran to town today for root beer floats, free from the bank every Friday in July! We were out of pink lemonlaid and The Goblin Child has a strong addiction going, so we parked in the middle between the bank and the grocery store, no point in driving one block. I got her out and sent her up to the sidewalk while I got 8 unbuckled. She found a mouse. The poor thing was pressed as hard as it could get against the brick storefronts running back and forth looking for something. Of course she had chosen her bright red cowboy boot to go with her shorts on this hundred degree day.
Now the mouse was running back and forth against the store fronts with her stomping along behind it like a crazed person. Back and forth they went as I stopped to stare half laughing half horrified that she might succeed. The grocer had carried a bag out to someones car and stopped to see what was going on. He cheered her on then ran to open the door of the bank as she herded the mouse into their doorway once again. Luckily for the bank it was locked. The teller had an errand to run, she had left with a back in five sign taped to the door. (I should mention that we have two banks, we’re big time here, this was not the bank with the root beer floats,)
The mouse ducked, cowering into a little hole in the sidewalk. We could see him there just below sidewalk level but I was able to convince her to let it be and we went shopping. She was also persuaded to forgo her usual complimentary sucker in anticipation of a root beer float. It is the best little grocery store, always willing to special order anything and, hey, free suckers! We try to make a point of spending the little extra for food there.
On the way to the bank we noticed an open sign on the city museum and a lady sitting in there to say that it was true. With 8 we try to avoid things like that but decided to try it anyway. Inside we greeted the former kindergarten teacher of forty some years unfortunately our children will miss having her. She was volunteering to spend her afternoon sitting in the hot airless old museum to keep the doors open for the four, counting us, small groups of people that wandered in on this particularly busy afternoon.
The kids enjoyed it way more than I would have guessed. The Goblin Child ran about finding things to look at and yell for me to come see. I spent the time running after 8 who was also fascinated, trying to keep him from breaking things or holding him as he arched and squirmed trying to get down. Apparently they are open afternoons through the summer, we will have to try to get back again.
At the bank we waited in line for our root beer floats. We knew everyone in the line and friends of the kids came running to greet them with arms thrown wide. The Goblin Child cowered against my leg and refused to return the greeting. After retreving 8 from someones office an older cowboy friend tried to get 8 to sit on the couch with him. 8 refused but The Goblin Child climbed up and cuddled against him. I knew him but don’t believe she had met him before. I told her she shouldn’t cuddle up wit strangers. He said he wasn’t strange only strange looking. She agreed wholeheartedly. The whole bank laughed. I love this little town.