Paddy's Wanderings

The Gordy Elbow

I have not been posting much of late, but I have indeed been spinng yarns into the digi-verse. The following is but a small excerpt from the tentatively titled, A Sheeple Christmas...

 

It is a family tradition to gather on Christmas Eve. This year, we were gathering at my Peanut Butter Uncle’s house and we had a new addition to the gaggle of kids. After nine boys, we finally had a new cousin, and she was a girl! We always drew names amongst the boyos and we got to give a cousin a gift on Christmas Eve. Great when it’s a bunch of car crazy, squirt gun toting boys who built elaborate forts and played army, or Cowboys and Indians. Throw a girl into that mix and it is scratch your head time.

What do you get a girl?

It was also a time when my other uncle, who was a crazy hockey fan, would always be the last one at the table, trying to catch the latest game on the rabbit ears. That year, he sat next to me, the only seat left. We said grace, than commenced the passing of dishes. Now my Uncle Puck had a tendency to point and grunt. He was a man of few words, unless he was coaching us boys in the fine art of the body check. So he gave me a Gordy Elbow, grunted and pointed in the general direction of the rolls. I missed it.

Uncle Puck pointed and grunted a little louder.

I shrugged and grunted back questioningly.

It was perfect timing. Amidst the clatter and bang of the passing of the holiday meal, the exchange fell into that perfect silence. All the adults broke out into a huge laugh. Baby cousin giggled because the adults were laughing, but the boyos, they looked at me in shock.

No one questioned Coach. No one would dare make fun of him, but I had did just that. With a look that said I would be skating laps around the rink for the rest of my childhood, he gave me the Gordy Elbow and grunted and pointed. I passed the rolls, hoping I was correct. He nodded, grabbed one, and passed the bowl.

Again, a small taste of that one evening, there is much more to tell of this day and the days leading to and from Christmas. It was the Fashioned Challenged Seventies, a different time for sure. Until next time.. there just may be more of this story to leak out into the blog..

The Island Blacksmith

Early morning, standing on the beach getting ready for the day. Off in the distance, the island we would be travelling to that morn. It was so quiet, just the gentle lap of wave on sand, the occasional hushed squawk of a sea gull. Hard to put into words, but it was a cleansing.

The t-k asked if we could build a sand castle. Of course we could, and so we did. For a few minutes. The adventure was waiting. We would come back later and time seemed to slow that, for awhile at least, we could do anything for however long we wanted. The sun stopped in the morning.

But off we went and took the big boat ride to Mackinac Island. We did a lot that day, some of which I already have posted about, but it was too much for just one post. So here comes another. Remember, time was elastic and stretched forever at that point.

After the fort, and as part of our tickets, we could go through the historical buildings through the town. We saw some cool places, learned a lot more about the history of the island, but one thing really stood out in my mind. One of the places was a blacksmith shop.

When I was a wee lad, the farm had a blacksmith shop. They had to have one. After all, who else would make and repair tools? Shod horses? Of course, that was thiry five years ago and it was falling down and rarely used anymore. I was supposed to stay out of the building, it was unsafe. Well to a ten year old, it was a treasure trove. I went anyways.

Since then, blacksmith shops have fascinated me, and so did the one on the island. We stood and watched the smith working a piece of iron rod over the coals as he did a brief history of the place and described some of the tools and what not they discovered in the dig. But I really did not listen, I watched him working the bellows.

As he talked, he would heat up the iron and then bend it over the anvil. Heat up to red hot, bend and hammer. Back and forth. Slowly, the metal started to circle around and 'round. As the circle grew he talked and asnwered questions, engaging both kids and adults alike. I was watching a craftsman at work, not noticing the heat wafting off the bellows, entranced by the sound of hammer and anvil.

Then one more push on the bellows, the heating of the end to orange red, then a twist, a deft strike of the hammer, and then he walked to the barrel and dipped it in. He kept talking right along, the crowd mesmerized by sight and sound, and the smell of worked metal.

As he was brushing the cooling metal he asked if there was anymore questions. He washed his work and rubbed it down as we all stood there, waiting to see the final product. It was a candle holder.

Amazing. Gammie is candle crazy. I mean that in a good way. So she piped up and asked how she could buy one. The blacksmith said oh sure, we sell em would you like this one? Of course she did! My wife asked for one as well. He had one finished earlier sitting there, grabbed both, stuck a price tag on the bottom of 8 bucks and said you can take it to the visitors center, other side of town and pay for em there. They were excited, and me and the tyke loved watching him work. Good time all around.

So back up for a minute. Read that last part, the part about giving the candle holders to us to go pay for them on the other side of town at the visitors center. See that? No anti theft devices, no security guard or undercover cops. No beeping electronic wall to past through. No cameras. Just a simple pay for em over there and a smile and a heartfelt thank you. A 'I am glad you enjoyed the presentation and enjoy your time on the island' farewell.

Different times, different values. At that point, if you did not think you travelled back in time, you were clueless. Too bad, because I noticed that right away. We left the shop and made a beeline for the visitors center and gladly paid for our treasures. No one else bought anything and the other folks wandered off.

But I know, deep down, they were affected as well. You could see the thoughtful expression on their faces. For a moment, I think everyone was transported back to a time of honor and craftsmanship. A time when your word was sacred. That blacksmith, never did get his name, made magic. If you are scratching your head and thinking I am out of my mind, I challenge you to go there next summer and see for yourself.

There is wonder to be found everywhere. You have to tune yourself into it. Words are hard to come by when describing that kind of experience. It is one of those things where you really do have to be there to understand. But not just there, anywhere. It is there. Believe it.

At the end of the day, we looked from the island back to our sand castle beach. If you look hard enough you can see the castle there. We travelled back to that sandy cove after a lifetime day in the past.

This is why I wander.

 

 

Mackinac Island Time Portal

The techno-tot is all smiles as we enter the fort on Mackinac Island. I was smiling, thankful we made it up the hill of doom. For those of you who know, that is quite a climb up the walkway to that point. For those of you who have never been there, its a steep cement walkway up the side of the hill, about 200 yards at a gradient that would put most cars, and this wanderer, in a low gear climb. The t-k has all the enthusiasm and energy of a child. This dad had it too, just the reality was a tad different then the idea.

I am tired just looking at the pic! Trust me though, its worth the journey. I should start at the begining of the day, thats where this stage of the journey begins. So we can step back to a couple days before and the wild idea I had.

We were planning on going to the Farm, do some work cleaning out the house and cleaning up around the farm. I said, in a fit of tiredness and nostalgia, hey, after we meet my da and do all that on Friday, lets go to Mackinac. We had a ton of fun at the fort and the t-k would love it. Better yet, lets go to the island and see the fort there!

Better 1/2 got that look and said you know, we went to the island about 20 yrs ago for a poetry festival(thats a whole nother blog post). I said yeap, and before that, I went there as a kid and we rode our bikes around the island and then across the bridge on Labor Day(another post there too~it was quite the sheeple trip!). Better 1/2 went there when she was a wee lass too, did about the same stuff(another example of us doing the same things I kids and another long post). So it had been what.. 30 yrs since we did the fort? Heck gammie hadnt been there since the 60's. Time to go!

So with a nervous crew of gammie, better 1/2 and t-k, we loaded up on the ferry(I could live on boats) and off we went on a clear morning. It was cool, no one puked and they seemed to enjoy the ride. We arrived and off we headed toward the Big Hill.

The t-k is wearing a hat he found in the old house. My Grandpa used to wear that hat, it is cool and weird that t-k latched on to that and asked if he could have it and then promptly put it on his head and wore it almost all weekend. He did find a cool soldier's hat at the fort that he switched to when we got back to Mackinac City. But still, he was making a connection and it was pretty neat.

So we did the fort, and it was a ton of fun, better than I remembered. We watched the soldiers drill and then they had a mock court martial and did a shooting demonstration. They also sang a few songs and were very entertaining. This pic was the best and the bugler was really good.

The fort was super cool and worth every penny. We all had a ton of fun and by noon had experienced exactly what we had planned. Of course, there was plenty more daylight, so we went off exploring and had a ton more fun, but that is a post for another day. The big thing was the fort. Check out a link to their website, here.

That portal to the fort is an entrance to the past, a time travel portal if you will. Sounds corny and cliche when you say it like that. I sound like a brochure! It is that though, an entrance to a time at the island from the 1880's and historical museum that is cool. But it is more than that to me as well.

Stepping through I was taken back to when I was a kid and the first time I was there. I was fascinated, big suprise there, by everything we saw. But what caught my eye and held my attention, was the t-k exploring. I kept watching him, probably more than anything else, and he was so taken by everything he saw. The wonder in a child's eye, seeing something new and exciting. That is what made my day.

It was fun to share that with gammie too, she was just as excited as the t-k. Better 1/2 and I got to share the fort, and that was just putting more awesome on the pile. It was super fun for everyone. For me, that whole time travel thing happend again and it was weird and cool. I can see it start and now, I am looking for it. It is a feeling that, if you feel it, you know it. It is.. addictive and worth all the hard work to get there. That was but a hlaf day, there is even more to come.. stay tuned.

Who knew ghosts were about 3 feet tall and had blond hair?

 

Sheeple, Westward! (Part VII -Finale)

We spent the next day, slowly heading along the range from mine to mine. Some places you could stop and take a peek, but most had closed long ago. It was kind of a lonely jaunt through hills and ghost towns and not much to show for it. We did find a neat museum with a few relics but no real Sheeple Bait Store. We were once again, traveling the back country, seeing the sights that most never see.

Eventually, we wandered into Christmas, stopped and got some gas and took a look see at the bear. It seems every time we went through the U.P., we had to make a stop there. But the day was getting long and we were still pretty far from home, so we packed up and headed out. We got into St. Ignace and settled for the night, figuring tomorrow we would make a stop at the farm, see the grandparents the next day. We always brought back some kind of treasure for 'em, share the journey, and it was always nice to stop and relax.

The next day we headed south down the Great Road, crossing the Mighty Mac. As usual, I sat in the back, bug eyed and pale, being quiet as a church mouse, doin' the timmy thing. At the crest, all of two hundred plus feet above the water, we heard a pop and then a scraping sound. My dad looked back in all the mirrors and announced that we blew a tire on the camper, we would have to pull over and change it.

I do believe he chuckled at that point. Surely he was joking, if not about the flat tire then at the very least about stopping on the bridge? My dad was a great one for making jokes about flat tires and dodging jellyfish on beaches, heck even swimming the previous suburban across flooded roads. Surely, he was joking. My mom said, yeah right, keep driving, but my dad insisted that the tire was flat and we would have to stop. Mom saved the day by saying in no uncertain terms that we could pull off once we were across in Mackinac and not a minute before hand.

So we slowed and eventually got off the blasted bridge into Mackinac and yep, sure enough, a tire had blown on the camper. My brother and dad went to work changing the tire and I plopped the head phones back on and paced outside the car, thinking, no swearing I would never cross that bridge again, I would ferry first, not that you can ferry, but whatever. Crisis averted and I only whimpered maybe once, and a small one at that. We headed for the farm.

We spent the evening with the grand parents, telling them of our adventures, got in a rousing game of spitzer and of course had to watch Hee Haw and the Waltons. Typical Saturday night at the farm and the end of our journey. The next day we headed home with a nugget of fool's gold, a few cans of pics and whole lot of non-lame vacation behind us.

Sheeple, Westward! (Part VI)

The next day we headed back east taking the north road up through North Dakota and then onward to Minnesota. The ride north was just a big prairie grass land and when I did not have my nose in the book, I listened to the Walkman and just gazed out the window at the vast ocean of nothing. Talk about a land that is empty. Even as we made our way east along the highway, it still seemed lonely, very little traffic and only an occasional house, many miles apart. There is just nothing there. In some ways, it was very soothing, just riding along, listening to my collection of tapes.

In some ways, that emptiness was very attractive to my folks. Believe me, I rode in the backseat through some back roads and back country in my youth and the emptiness, the peacefulness, yeah, it was all there. Not much happened except a chance to stop at a very old service station, get some gas and dig in an ancient cooler for a bottle of coke. It was so dry and hot that we drank down those cokes, put 'em in the rack next to the cooler and cracked open one for the road. We continued on the long journey, heading to the coldest place in North America, even in the summer.

After a long, quiet day of just driving, we pulled into International Falls, Minnesota to camp for the night. Believe it or not, even in August, it got chilly over night. But it was just a quick pit stop, a quick jaunt through both sides of the river in the ever present Bait Shops. Back then, it was easy to just go across into Canada, browse Sheeple Trinkets, and head back across and be on our way. That is what we did, because tomorrow we were going to go look at a big hole in the ground.

The next morning we drove down to the Mesabi Range to see the big pit in the ground. At the height of production between the wars (I do mean WWI and WWII) this big hole produced about a quarter of all iron ore in the US. I could tell by the size of the hole. Of course, I read everything I could get my hands on, getting the feeling this was a trip all about mining, but that was cool, cause it is pretty interesting. I was amazed at the sheer size of everything. A dump truck you had to climb a ladder to get to the cab and the wheels were eight, yes 8 ft tall! All very cool, to see such wonders in the middle of no where.

After a morning of pit driving, we headed back toward Michigan to go sample the Gogebic Iron Range and all of the deep mines that dot the Western U.P. This was one of those things we wanted to do during the big trip around Superior and did not have time to do then. So this was a continuation, if you will of our site seeing and now that I think about it, fascination with mines.

We were back in Ironwood, setting up camp for one more day of mining exploration before the trip back home. We were good little sheeple, took tons of pics, ohh'd and ahh'd at all the appropriate places and even snagged of few Treasures. The lameness never really surfaced, and nothing strange happened along the way. It was clear sailing.. er driving, and no crazy hijinks in a mine shaft. We did good, but the grande adventure was winding down. Good thing really, I had half a book and one set of fresh batteries left in my stock. Tomorrow, we had once last mining excursion and then back to the Great Road home.

Sheeple, Westward! (Part V)

The next morning, everyone was moving a little slow, even me. If you had asked me right then to ride through the hills on horseback, I may have thrown a book at you. I ambled out and poked a stick in the campfire, kinda my morning thing. Never been much of a breakfast kid and the smell of fried eggs makes me gag, so I go poke the fire and read. Today I was moving slow, but the lameness factor seemed to be long gone. Today we were gonna go down mine shafts and check out all that kind of stuff, prospect for some gold.

We headed out, eager to explore all of the mines and creek beds we could fine. I was all in to the history and read everything I could get my hands on, and then some. It is a bit ironic that all those old mines are peppered with Sheeple Bait Piles, and the gold they find is Sheeple Gold, but I digress. Sheeple like us, from out east and city slickers to boot, well we could saddle right up, spend a few dollars and be real prospectors! Of course, we did just that, from mine to mine.

The we came across the mother load of Sheeple Prospecting. We found a place where you could rent equipment, pans, pick axes and all, and prospect for real gold nuggets in a stream bed. My parents were positively giddy with the.. prospect.. and we lined right up with the other Sheeple. I rolled my eyes, way too cool teenager here, not wanting to look like a dork, panning for non existent gold in a cold stream. I mean come on folks, if there was really gold would they let the Unwashed Sheeple Masses find it? Apparently, for a price, they do. So we did.

Every once in awhile, I get out of my rut and just go with the flow. That day I did just that and panned for gold. I figured I would get the full experience, why not. My mom found a rather small bit of gold and that was it for the time we spent, shivering in the creek. But it was okay, I kinda liked just playing around in the hot sun, dodging giant vampire mosquitoes. It wasn't so lame really, and it was educational. No really, it was, cause I learned a bunch about the history of the whole area, and I liked that.

To finish the day, we camped up near Deadwood at a very dry, very hot campground, where the pool consisted of two inches of green muck. Really, why go to all the trouble of pouring a cement bowl if all you're gonna fill it with is slime? The hot, tired prospecting surly teenager reared his ugly head. Dad says, not to worry, we'll go in to Deadwood, see a old fashioned saloon, have some cold drinks and bask in the gunfighter, tough guy old west. Sounded cool to me.

As we drove into 'town' my mom mentioned she had been seeing an awefull lot of bikers and when we pulled in to the back parking lot of a likely saloon, it was indeed, filled with motorcycles. I didn't think anything of it, just another day. I was more interested in just how lame this 'authentic' saloon was going to be. I figured it was gonna be just one big tourist trap, with fake gunfighters, take your picture next to this wooden placard and look like a real old west gunfighter lame fest. 

Actually, it wasn't lame, it was pretty much a real old fashioned saloon with big mirrors, a big bar and poker players. Oh and it was filled with bikers. Just so happens, it was bike week in Sturgis, kinda funny how that worked out. A little hell raisin, a little drinkin' and I think a couple picnic tables got broken which were paid for by the perpetrators. Nothing bad happened but you know how the greenhorn's get..

Well then pardner, the look on my mom's face was priceless, she was a wee bit taken aback. Hey man, this was right up my alley. Women in period dress paradin' around, the bartender had on a top hat and the biggest, most outrageous tie I had ever seen, the room was filled with smoke and the clang of mugs, saw dust and peanut shells on the floor and honest to goodness spittoons, filling up fast. Yee Ha! 

I grinned at my folks, that devil may care grin teenagers get when they are gonna do something stupid, or at least annoying to their parents. I bellied up to the bar, slapped down a jefferson and ordered me a beer & whiskey. The bartender looked me up and down and pushed a glass of sasparilly at me and pointed to the sign. Guess he knew I wasn't old enough, dangnabit. Not to be outdone and wanting to experience the 'experience', I asked for some of his finest plug tobacco. Guess I was old enough for that and he put down the most vile smelling log of.. whatever it was, that I had ever seen.

The rest of the fam had joined me and looked at me as if I had lost my mind. I may have, cause I peeled off a chunk of that plug and commenced to chewin'. Believe me when I say, I spit that sucker right out into the spittoon at my feet, turned green, downed the sasparilly in a feeble effort to quell the uprising gorge and then headed for the little greenhorn's room. Well, it was good for a laugh when we sat down at a table, ordered a fine bar burger and finished a very quick dinner in the saloon. I guess it was a little more experience then we were looking for, but it was pretty funny.

Another not so lame day, and tomorrow, we were gonna head back east.

Sheeple, Westward! (Part IV)

As usual, vacation or no, my parents were up before the sun, and to a teenager that is about as bad as it gets. The smell of frying bacon and eggs drove me right outside, like normal. I grabbed my book, found a log, and by the glow of early morning sailed off with Elric and Co. It was a typical morning at the camp, except it was already hot, another day started on the Great Western Sheeple Adventure.

We packed up camp and headed north through the park. Trees, and plenty of them, seen trees all my life and was sinking fast down the boredom trail. I hummed along to the Walkman and read my book, ignoring where or what we were doing. I figured when we stopped at the next Bait Pile, it may register, and I would climb out of the backseat, and ooh and aah when called upon. The trip had been pretty good so far, but the ever present lameness was still out there, I just knew it.

Then we stopped and I unplugged the headphones, turned the corner of the page and followed the fam toward a big log cabin type building, another Bait Pile.. My dad says the sign points this way to the viewing area, so we follow him. I got my head down, thinking I should have stayed in the back seat, thinking their gonna show me some hole in the ground or some such doodad of significance only to Traveling Sheeple. I had no idea, totally clueless, a state I enter frequently.

We turn the corner, I look up, and I think my jaw hit the ground. We were at Mt. Rushmore. I was stunned. That simple really, I was just stunned. I remember it well, walking up to the railing and just looking. I could not take my eyes off of it, I just wanted to look forever. I have no idea how long we stood there, but eventually, my parents decided we should go into the building and do.. something. I was lost to the monument.

Now folks will say yeah, whatever, I have seen pictures and seen it in movies, etc. So did I before I saw it in person, and of course since then as well. But I am here to tell ya, until you see it from the observation deck, live and in person, those pics and movies don't mean squat. To be fair, I had no idea we were even close to Mt. Rushmore or that we were going to see it. Mom and Dad never mentioned that little fact when they told us about the trip. I think they wanted to surprise us, and believe me, they did. If you have not seen it in person, it is a must do. The beauty, the size, the just overwhelming awe of the place is hard to describe.

Of course once inside, I had to devour the history and everything about it. We even had to sample the Bait Pile. It was dream like, almost.. no I will say it, it was magical. I never wanted to leave, I could not get enough of it. But eventually it was time to move on. I would have camped there, right on the deck, for days and days, just looking, just soaking it in, and feeling the presence of something truly amazing. But we moved on to the next stage of what was turning out to be an awesome adventure.

One of the many weird things I do, even as a surly teenager, is collect and read every brochure that even remotely catches my eye. You know the kind that plaster the inside of every rest stop and Bait Pile all across the land. Yeah, those things. Well one of the brochures I had gathered was this way cool place, a place where you could go horseback riding through the hills. I wanted to do just that. Somehow I convinced my parents this would be cool and off we went, to travel the hills via horseback ~ tallyho!

I convinced them to go on a three hour tour.. had to say that, cause really, it was a three hour ride. The choosing of the horses was fun. I got a nice, gentle beast that I clambered up the side and sat comfortable, waiting for the rest of the fam. My dad and brother had to use a step stool to get up on the horses. Thankfully, the folks there were really nice, the horses very patient. Then there was my mom, she who grew up on a farm and couldn't get on a horse to save her life. She was nervous and skittish, which even the best of the trail horses had a hard time handling. Then this rather attractive young lady stepped up, whispered in the horse's ear, and all was good, we were ready to set out.

I don't think the fam had all that much fun, and to tell by the way they walked and had a hard time sitting in the suburban, I was sure of it. But there was hills and trees and enough scenery and wild life to satiate the most urban of pallets. It was grand. Then again, I chatted with the horse girl the whole time we rode, she was one of the guides and came along for the ride. After about a half hour, she ambled over, yeah we are cowboys! and she turned around in her saddle(which impressed the hell out of me) and we chatted. It was pretty darn cool.

We galloped around, saw the sites, and this city slicker was having the time of his life. I do love horses, but I can count on one hand the number of times I have actually rode upon one. This was the best, and not just because of the cowgirl either. Seeing the hills and everything from horseback was just a neat ending to a way cool day. This was the day I was hoping for from the beginning, and it just so happens that it erased the surly teenager and obliterated the lameness. Another long day of adventuring and we headed back to camp and to rest our sore back sides. Worth every penny too. Tomorrow, we were heading out to Sturgis and do some prospecting, we heard tell there was gold in them there hills.

Sheeple, Westward! (Part III)

The next day we turned left at Rapid City and drove down through Custer State park and stopped at one of the coolest places I have ever been to, Bear Country USA. The lameness factor pegged to zero, cause I am here to tell ya, that place just rocked. This was the beginning of a very cool day.

We got in the line of cars like all the other Sheeple to drive through the park. They had all kinds of cool animals we oohed and ahhed upon from the confines of our surburban. We gazed in wonder at the sheep, buffalo and elk, with the occasional whistle from my dad, trying to spook the wildlife. Fortunately, the buffalo were used to the crazy antics of the humans in their stinky metal boxes and took no offense. I can only imagine the chaos of a stampeding herd of buffalo. Big, impressive beasts that people used to hunt with spear and arrow. I can't imagine that, not even remotely.

Then, we stopped and wandered through the Sheeple Bait Pile and gazed at the mountain lion and all that cool stuff. Being a curious sort and just loving every minute of the whole day, I wandered out back into the baby land section. At first I though it was a petting zoo, umm.. no. It was were the bear cubs were kept in their own area.

I was transfixed, blown away, I just don't have the words for it. I had no idea bear cubs were so playful and so.. entertaining. Those little balls of fur really hammed it up for the growing crowd, I am here to tell ya. They were playing tag, no really. One of the little guys would whack one on the head, then go climb a tree. They ran back and forth, wrestling and acting just like little kids, well I guess like little bear cubs really do, I had no idea.

One little feller was pretty dang smart. He climbed up on a little house(it looked like a dog house) and when one of his playmates walked by, would thump them on the head and hide on the roof. Needless to say, the one that got thumped thought it was the one behind him, and so.. much wrestling and hilarity would ensue. Every time one of them would walk by, he would stick out a paw and whack em, and I would laugh like an idiot. One of his victims figured it out and climbed the small tree next to the little house and did a flying leap on to our friends back. They rolled off on to the ground, playfully smacking each other around in the dust. Yeah, it was just too funny.

But like all good things, it had to end. I gave my parents the old stink eye and reluctantly re-boarded the infernal contraption as we headed out to the next big adventure. The lameness was gone, but how in the world would anything top bear cubs playing tag? My parents answer.. hot springs.

Oh boy I thought. Hot, sulfur smelling water, just what every kid wants on vacation. I knew there would be no bears there, and started to descend into surly teenager mode. But I was along for the ride, and well, we all get to do stuff that each of us pick out as the cool thing to do. If I had known about Bear Country, that would have been my pick, so I still had a choice of what to do, within the parameters of where we were at. Bah, the west just wasn't doing it for me, and setting up camp in the hot springs was just.. bah.

But that night, my parents decided we were going to go to the local water park, splash in the water, enjoy the hot springs. Yeah, okay. What they had there was a huge, almost vertical slide you could go down and body surf across a pool. A lot of kids were climbing the three stories up and shooting down the slide across the wave pool, laughing and having a good old time. Yeah, me and my vertigo were gonna stay in the wave pool and chill. But of course, that didn't happen.

Oh no. See with a younger brother, there is a bit of rivalry, which I have always tried to downplay, but being boys, well.. ya know. We decided we would give the big slide a go, at my brother's behest. He knows I am afraid of heights, that is why he egged me on! So I climbed to the top of this Eiffel Tower of Doom and peered over the edge down three hundred miles of slide. Well okay, maybe three hundred feet, but it was almost straight down! This little kid pushed me aside, screams at the top of his lungs, and plunges down the side, sliding into the water below.

I'm at the top, kids are going by and laughing all the way to the bottom and all I want to do is hurl. The lifeguard at the top nods sagely and politely asks if I want to go down the slide or go back down the incredibly steep, slippery stairs. Then this rather attractive young lady steps up, gives me a wink and goes down the slide. I have to admit, that is all it took. The jeers of the little kids, nah. The jabs from my brother, who I will note, had not gone down yet either, nah. Just a wink and a smile from a pretty young lass and the next thing you know, I am going down the slide, too frightened to scream or even pee my swim trunks.

What a rush! Yeah, I can see why everyone was going down the slide, man it was cool, so cool it scared the daylights out of me. I had to have more. But first, I was going to find that young lady, chat her up. Yeah.. well the best laid plans of mice and teenage boys and all that. I never did find her, so I kept going down the slide. So did my brother, and we had a pretty dang good time too. Who knows, maybe she was just some sort of hallucination from the extreme vertigo. Maybe she was a water nymph, there to help along teenage boys and their fear of heights. I never did find out.

I was so tired that by the time we made it back to the camper, I was asleep on my feet. But hey, tomorrow was another day, and maybe the lame was gone, but I still wanted to see something, do something that was cool beyond belief, we had not made it there, yet.

Sheeple, Westward! (Part II)

The next day we headed west out of Minneapolis toward South Dakota and all the Sheeple fun we could find. I noticed a bill board, those infamous signs advertising everything from the purely mundane to the sign posts of sheeple everywhere, the Sheeple Bait Piles. This particular sign was for Wall Drug. I thought to myself that who cared about a drug store and why have a bill board in the middle of no where? Little did I know it was a a harbinger of sites to come.

So we hopped down to Mankato and took Hwy 14 across through Walnut Grove on our way to Sioux City. Yep, I do mean that Walnut Grove. Now you would think a bored teenager would barely register such a trip from the back seat of a suburban, but I'll let you in on a secret. Laura and family was on every week in the house and well, I liked the show. I liked the show so much that I checked the books out of the library and read 'em and enjoyed them. I think the poor librarian thought I was nuts, cause well, Laura Ingalls Wilder is not Asimov or Heinlein, but I am here to tell ya, the books are awesome. So yeah, I got a kick out of this part of the trip. I wish I could have dipped a line in Plum Creek, but it just didn't happen.

Now we are rolling into Sioux Falls kinda late in the day and we hurried and set up camp. In spite of the many sign posts for Wall Drug, there was one that caught my dad's eye, the dog races. Somehow we convinced mom to go to the dog track and off we went. It was cool, I had never seen dog races except in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, so naturally I was cheering for the rabbit. The dogs never caught the wee little bugger, so Bug's girlfriend was safe for another day. We did however, have to battle a plague of mosquitoes the like I had not seen since the great Superior Trip. It was summer and it was hot and the wee vampires would not go away. In the end, we had fun on that day and scurried back to the safe confines of the camper.

The next day we headed west and the bill boards were as thick as flies. Somehow the family got stuck on seeing the Corn Palace and hey look! it is on the way down I-90! There was the great big build up, see the Corn Palace, stop here and all that jazz. The Corn Palace was drowning out Elton John and distracting my reading of the adventures of Elric. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we stopped to view the awesome Corn Palace.. yeah.

Don't get me wrong, it is a fine structure and there was the opportunity to buy bumper stickers and all kinds of Sheeple Goodies, but alas, it was just a big building. For a teenager fighting boredom, it failed. But the rest of the fam was astounded and more then made up for my bah attitude, so in the end, that was a good thing. But it was short lived, cause daylight was a burning and we had miles to make to the west!

Now it seemed like about every couple of miles there was a bill board for Wall Drug, come see the wonder of Wall Drug. To this day I shudder at the mere mention of the place. Talk about a build up of epic proportions! My dad gleefully announced that you could see these signs all over the west, all pointing toward this magical place. The fam was excited beyond belief to visit this place, it was at the top of their to do list. I looked on in dismay, buried my head in my book and turned up the volume. This, I was sure, was going to be major lame.

Sure enough, as the sun set and before we could even set up camp, we were pulling into this huge parking lot, filled to bursting with Sheeple from all points of the globe. I even saw a plate from Hawaii.. This was the Sheeple Bait Pile. The mother load of every tourist trap that ever existed before or after. This was the Holy Grail of every Sheeple Family to ever travel the Great Roads of our fine Country. People were standing in awe at the entrance, enraptured by it's magnificence. We entered this nirvana of the weary traveler and received our free glass of water.

I enjoyed every bit of it, I really did. The surly teenager who never wanted to go on vacation did indeed, enjoy the bounty of Americana on display. Some would cry kitsch, and it would be hard to argue the moniker, but at what point does the kitsch become the objet d'arte? From bumper stickers to buttons and all points in between,and I do mean all, there is a charm and uniqueness that even a temper mental teenager could enjoy, if only in secret. I was happy we had stopped and got to experience such a fine example of life on the road.

As we set up the camper by the light from the headlights of the suburban I thought that maybe this trip had a chance of losing it's lameness, maybe. On the road, driving through the badlands of South Dakota, many a strange thing can happen, or so I am told. I think there is some truth in that, as the younger me started to, almost, get into the groove of the trip. I was still wary of lameness though, heading into Rapid City.

Sheeple, Westward! (Part I)

Back in the Hazy Eighties, way back in '83, the family took a trip out west. As usual, we loaded the Sheeple Camper until it almost burst one of the wee tires, and loaded the Sheeple Suburban to the max with every thing a Sheeple Family could need on a westward journey through the Dakota's. I was seventeen and had no desire to leave the comfy confines of my band mates or D&D chums, no way. Apparently, I had a vote, they just didn't count it, so off I went, Walkman, tapes, and extra batteries in tow.

Well.. I had good company. I had acquired the Elric of Melnibone books after reading the first one a couple months back. So I figured me and Elric would listen to some Men at Work, and travel in the back seat as best we could. I had a feeling though, a terrible feeling, that it was gonna be one hot trip from one Sheeple Tourist Trap to another and it was going to be about as lame as a teenager on vacation with his parents could get. 

That first day we drove to Ironwood Michigan, an all day trip from the City by the Bay. I was pretty much lost the whole time, except of course when we crossed the Mighty Mac. They just had to point out to me the wonderful view, how clear the sky, how blue the water, how far down it really was. I'm a timmy, someone who is afraid to cross the bridge. Don't get me wrong, I love the Mac, I just love it from the shore and not two hundred feet above the surface of the water. Other then that, me and Elric jammed to the boys from down under and arrived just fine at the first campsite.

I helped set up camp, it takes like fifteen minutes at this point, we had done it a gajillion times the past eight years or so. It got dark pretty quick, so I was done reading for the day. I did join in a rousing game of spitzer and then headed off to dream land. Twelve hours in the car and one book down, I was a tired camper.

The next day we headed into Minneapolis to visit a friend of my mom's that she went to nursing school with, way back in the Sheeple Prehistoric Sixties. I was bored out of my mind already and they could tell. I asked if I could check out the scene, I thought I was cool. I was in the Twin Cities man, home of the Revolution and that Minnesota Sound. I really wanted to head downtown, catch the music scene. Yeah, that wasn't gonna happen, but it was a thought.

What we did do, which was almost as cool, was go see a double header at the ball park. The Twins were playing the Angels, and well, I was still enough of a baseball freak to almost get excited. So sure, why not, I went along for the ride. The seats were okay, and I got to watch people throw pennies at Reggie Jackson in right field and boo him every time he came to the plate. Okay then, the lameness factor eased a bit right there. I always liked Reggie, and I'll give him credit, he took the abuse pretty well and only flipped off the crowd once.

After that, it was time to go sleep in the camper in the driveway, we had a big day of travel the next day, heading west to the Dakota's! I checked my stock of batteries and books. One book down and I plugged in a fresh set of batteries. Hey I was a scout, I was being prepared. I figure the lameness was just about to begin and I was already itching to go home, baseball or no. I thought about it a bit, if the trip was gonna go down like it had, I may have miscalculated and would have to restock the book pantry. I crossed my fingers something would catch my eye, being deprived of guitar and rolling dice was bad enough, but no music or books and I would walk home.

Little did I know the depths of Sheeple-hood my family could attain.