take the long way home: the roadtrip video wrap-up

After DeSmet, SD, we went on to Mt. Rushmore (the first place on the entire trip that was actually crowded! Who knew?!), then Custer St. Park, then Devil's Tower, and finally Yellowstone. But instead of posting a lot of photos of flora, fauna, water and rock, I will leave you with a series of short videos that sum up the rest of the trip. They are terrible quality, so only watch them if you want to experience my life for the end of the trip. They really do sum it up.

First up, a whole lot of nothing in South Dakota. (Rosa, this one is for you--when I called you out of desperate sleepiness and lonliness and promised I would post pics of exactly where I was when I called.) Miles and miles of almost no signs of man, but the scent of yellow sweet clover filled the car as we drove by. Please forgive how the camera kept losing its focus, and instead marvel at how steady I was holding the camera. Think about it.

Bison at Custer State Park. This was the one time we were all in the same car--and after being squashed by carseats in the far back and being carsick for a couple of hours, I did not mind so much being the lone driver of our car the rest of the trip. ; )

One of the many cool features at Yellowstone, and us. This also is notable as the last record of mom's favorite hat before it blew off her head later that day to lie forlorn and abject at the edge of a magnificent blue mineral hot spring, tantilizingly close, but just out of reach of the ranger's retrieving tool. I am sure it will live forever in our memories, and in the photos of tourists from all over the world who will one day admire their photo, then suddenly squint and lean in saying, "What the heck is that?!"

Our last hotel room, in Reno, the last night on the road.

Little Girls on the Prairie

After leaving Iowa, we headed to that much-anticipated destination, the Laura Ingalls Wilder homestead living museum and DeSmet, the "Little Town on the Prairie." These photos cannot really convey the peaceful, sun and breeze washed day at the living museum, but they will demonstrate some of the delightful hands-on activities that helped bring the "Little House" books alive in our minds.

The recreated homestead, built to the specifications given in the books. We felt quite at home there.

B play cooking on Ma's stove (ok, not the original but one Just Like It.) In the sitting room they also have a real working organ Just Like Mary's, and they do not mind children playing it!

Doing laundry out back of the house.

Everyone piled into a horse-drawn covered wagon for a ride out to a period one-room schoolhouse Just Like the one Laura went to school in, and later taught in. And the young woman in charge of the tour made sure each of the kids in the wagon had a turn driving the team!

In one of the barns you could do all kinds of fun things, like use old-fashioned shucking tools to strip the dried kernels of corn from cobs and then make corn cob doll, Just Like Laura's!

Making rope

What historical re-creation of the Laura Ingalls stories would be complete without taking a hand at grinding wheat in a hand-cranked coffee grinder a la The Long Winter?

The sweetest miniature pony

I highly recommend the experience to anyone who happens to be passing that way.

(Willow, please feel free to comment on your own experience there this Spring, and share pics if that is possible!)

Iowa, Pt. 2: The Grotto of the Redemption

Cousin Margot also took us to visit a highly surprising and amazing West Bend tourist attraction, The Grotto of the Redemption. I took lots of pictures, because it is almost not explainable--but imagine a large multi-level "garden" with walkways and rooms all filled with beautiful statues depicting the life and ministry and death of Jesus Christ, including the 14 Stations of the Cross, all encrusted--every last inch, save the statuary--with semi-precious rocks, minerals, crystals, geodes, petrified wood, I even saw a stalagmite. I heard that faithful Catholics (who knows, maybe even more than a few Protestants) from all over the world sent stones and decorative bits for the Grotto. Work on the Grotto was begun in 1912, and different sections of it were completed in different later decades.

A corridor of pillars, I think representing the Stations of the Cross (I was chasing children at this point and could not linger past taking the photo)

The other side of the same corridor, showing the detail of the pillars.

Adam, being cast out of Eden

Eve also being cast out of Eden, (Adam is to the right, off camera) by the Angel of The Lord. The statuary was really breathtaking--my photos cannot do them justice. You gotta love the loudspeaker thrust into this poignant tableau. And is it coincidence or mastery of the subliminal that makes it appear as if both Eve and Adam are about to be devoured by demonic rock mouths?


The most beautiful statue in the Grotto, of Jesus' body being laid in the tomb.


Still, this was my favorite statue.

M and G amidst the crustations.



An unexpected room: the home life of the Holy family. Mary is shown with a mortar and pestle. This is by far the most unexalted and human portrayal of Mary I have ever seen in a Catholic setting, and I was touched in a new way by thinking of her cooking in a tiny, crude kitchen. Inspired, actually.

Jesus, the homeschooler


Another very human depiction of Joseph. I love how each of the Holy Family is holding a symbol of their daily work. Such a small but purposeful detail gives lends so much meaning to the statues.

Set here and there amidst the profusion of rock were carefully set "bouquets." I don't know what else to call them--some were rosettes, like the one pictured above, some surprising and lovely groupings like the one below. They were all gorgeous, and helped give sections of the walls focus and drama. And helped the viewer re-appreciate the individual God-made materials of which the Grotto was formed--and the individual hands that placed them with such love and artistry.






Artful arrangement of beautiful sections of petrified wood.

As we walked through grotto after grotto and the first thrill of wonderment wore off, I started to think about all the money and labor involved, which seemed a waste--did God desire them to do this with so much of His resources?--and my eyes and brain were so oversaturated with texture and color that all the beauty of the rocks became tiresome and even gaudy. The predominant color of the Grotto, besides brown, is, surprisingly, pink. Borderline cheesy meditative instrumental music (I think they were going for angels and awe--I seem to recall lots of harps playing) follows you everywhere from loudspeakers that are wincingly hard to hide. My arms were going to break from carrying E around (steps and strollers not mixing--the Grotto was clearly built before accessibility laws came into effect) and I was letting myself entertain thoughts about how stereotypically Americans, and Christians in general, and Evangelicals in particular, have such monumentally bad taste and definitely run too easily into tacky excess. How I am uncomfortable with non-Christians seeing something like the Grotto and thinking it represents the values and taste of all Christians, and specifically me. (C'mon, esp. those of us who go to Vintage Faith church clearly have "hip" awareness and are probably much more comfortable with non-believers seeing us there than linking us with, say, a small congregation of overweight, Wal-Mart apparelled, bland-faced middle-Americans. I've been to churches like that in Indiana, and while I trust God was at work in them, I had no desire to visit twice.)

I am being vulnerable here, because clearly the "problem" with the Indiana churches or the Grotto lay not with them, but with me. I am judgmental at times in most unattractive ways, but luckily God does not let me get away with such thoughts unchecked. For as we finished our wanderings in the Grotto, we ended up in front of a sign that read:

And I was completely, immediately, humbled. The sign, installed by the modern Catholics who maintain the Grotto and worship in the church next door, modestly but firmly takes the focus off the amazingness of the Grotto and puts it back on God. I repented of my negative thoughts and judging the hearts and motives of the people who built the Grotto, who operate it, who visit it. Would that when God looks into my heart, he sees a space for Himself as beautiful as the Grotto. As carefully fashioned with years and years of dedicated, joyful labor. So abundant with the tangible manifestations of God's handiwork, that all who come in contact with it are dazzled with beauty and filled with awe.

Further chastisement came when I started this blog entry the other day and visited the Grotto's website to read its history. I am clearly not the only visitor of the Grotto who has wondered at the cost of its making, for the website addressed this issue with a response that, again, places the whole human endeavor within the context of hearts in tune to God:
"No accounting was made either of the many man-hours of labor involved in building the Grotto or the money expended in gathering the stones and shaping them into a harmonious unit. This is perhaps because Father Dobberstein wanted the cost to be known to God alone."*

Looking back over this entry, I can see how much I overused the words "surprising," "beautiful," "unexpected"--but this is the truth of the whole Grotto of the Redemption experience. Moving through it, and processing all the different thoughts and feelings that came to me, left me a different person than when I went in. So while on one hand it was a gaudy pile of rocks, on the other hand, it was a truly spiritual experience. Thank you for joining me on the tour of both!



*http://www.westbendgrotto.com/

from Cousin Margot's recipe file: Wilted Lettuce Salad

Fill large bowl with washed and torn leaf lettuce.

Sprinkle with salt, and spoon over with sugar.

Then in a small saucepan, cook chopped bacon and diced onion. When done, add vinegar, about 1/2 cup. (Add a little water if it is too tart)

Bring to a boil, then pour over lettuce and mix well, immediately.

Serve.

Alterate way of serving wilted lettuce:

Heat half-n-half and sugar in saucepan. When hot but not boiling, pour over lettuce and mix well, immediately.

from Cousin Margot's recipe file: Easy Cake

Take any cake mix.

Mix with one 12 oz can of pop* **.

For chocolate cake, use 7up.
For lemon cake, use Diet Mountain Dew.

Cook according to directions.

For chocolate cake topping, mix 1 package instant vanilla pudding, 3/4 cup milk and 1 container Cool Whip. Spread liberally.


*pop being the midwestern term for soda.
**that's right, no eggs, milk or oil. just pop.

from Cousin Margot's recipe files: Rhubarb Swirl Dessert

3-4 cups rhubarb, diced
3/4 cup sugar
1 (3 oz) pkg strawberry jello
1 (3.5 oz) pkg instant vanilla pudding
1 1/2 cups milk
1/4 tsp. vanilla
8 oz Cool Whip

Mix rhubarb and sugar. Let stand for one hour. Place in a saucepan and simmer over low heat until tender (10-15 minutes). Stir in jello until dissolved. Cool until syrupy. Prepare pudding with milk and vanilla. When thick, add Cool Whip. Pour rhubarb mixture into pudding mixture and lightly swirl. Pour into graham cracker crust and refrigerate overnight. Double recipe for 9 x 13 pan.

Graham Cracker Crust:

1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs

1/3 cup melted butter

1/3 cup sugar

Mix ingredients, pat into pie pan, and bake at 350 degrees for 8-10 minutes.

Iowa, Pt. 1: Cousin Margot of West Bend

Upon leaving Illinois, we drove up to visit my mom's cousin Margot. She lives in an old farmhouse two miles out from the town of West Bend, population 834 at the time of the 2000 census. Cousin Margot was very matter-of-factly pleasant in manner, and was overwhelmingly hospitable with her time and her table.

One day she drove us over to town to pick up the keys to the local museum and gave us a private history tour, which also included the old one-room schoolhouse and ity-bity original post office and the historically-built pioneer sod house seen above, complete with native prairie grass.

Cousin Margot giving the history lesson. The intense mannequin is modeling the actual outfit worn by the last schoolteacher on the last day the school was open (I don't remember the actual year the schoolhouse closed, but it was not as far back as you would think--the 30's or 40's perhaps).

The view from the teacher's desk. Note the bonnets hanging in the back, ready for when the students leave--and the communal water pail and dipper on the table at the right.

Then Cousin Margot took us downtown to the soda parlor/gift shop for refreshing, old-fashioned ice cream cones, malts and root-beer floats. The only flavor of ice-cream on hand--the only one needed--was of course vanilla.

Actually, during our two day visit, much of my attention was fixed on gastronomic delights. Even with all the fun and interesting things we did and saw while there, Cousin Margot's homecooked Iowan food was the most fascinating and memorable experience for me. In a very, very good way. Our first dinner there the table was loaded with dishes, no less than three of them involving bacon, including the vegetable and lettuce salad. In fact, bacon and white sugar played a very large role in every meal we had at Cousin Margot's table. Fittingly, I ate like a pig, and would have needed larger pants if we had stayed any longer.

Two words: Butter Braid

Cousin Margot's Green Salad.

This colorful gelatin salad comes with a funny vignette. At lunch when this was served, G ate a good meal of everything put before her, and was eagerly anticipating a lot of dessert in reward. Cousin Margot was offering a rhubarb ice-box dessert, chocolate cake, cookies, and two kinds of ice cream. I told G she could choose two. She thought about her options, and then slyly asked me if she could have some of the gelatin dish in addition to her two chosen desserts. I laughed and said no, that she had to limit herself to two desserts. Cousin Margot looked at me strangely and corrected me, saying, "It's not dessert, it's salad."

Recipes, much anticipated, I am sure, to follow.

Butter braid photo from West Bend own butterbraid.com