Sentinel

Standing quietly in an autumn sunset, the ventilator (I think that's what it is) on the old barn watches the prairie in all directions. A sneak attack by Nebraska would be impossible.         

Memories

Mrs, C's mother, Elvira Kruse, passed away about two years ago at the age of 98. Today would have been her hundredth birthday. She had help, of course, but kept her own little apartment and remained mentally sharp. Her memory was astounding.

My wife had the brilliant idea of having some of the younger kids say a little bit about their memories of her. I got to be the director and cinematographer. (Pity I don't know how to edit video but I better learn fast.) There was a wonderfully soft blanket that Ellie admired at Elvira's home, which she immediately gave to her. That's the kind of person she was.

Elvira and my mother, Annette Koral, were born about a month apart in the fall of 1918. Annette has been gone almost 44 years. 

Lieutenant Joshua Kruse, United States Army

There is something of a family tradition on the farm the day after Thanksgiving, but it has changed over the years. The younger men and a few of the women would go out in the nearby fields to hunt quail. After restrictions were imposed on hunting coyotes the quail population fell. For a couple of years someone would go out early on that Friday morning and buy a few boxes of quail (heaven knows where) and then scatter them in the bushes. The hunt resumed. I used to joke with the guys that I was better armed: they had shotguns but I had a Canon.

 

Eventually the marksmen turned to shooting clay pigeons. (See https://flic.kr/p/dvLvNN). As the years passed and most of that generation had families, the turnout decreased. Now it's just target practice out behind the house with whoever is around. This is my nephew who graduated from West Point last spring, Lieutenant Joshua Kruse. He is supposed to know how to use these things.

Not making any comment about guns here. No one in my immediate family has ever owned one. It is an integral part of the culture in rural Kansas. My relatives there use them with the highest safety standards.        

Old Barn

There is an old, rickety barn on Mrs. C's family farm. It has been there longer than I have been visiting the place, 45 years. Now it is used mostly for keeping equipment out of the weather. That wagon, though, could be as old as the barn itself.       

Ricky's Cafe

Last Friday, the family went out to breakfast at Rickey's Cafe in Hanover, Kansas. It is a town of 664, a few miles past the farm, where Mrs. C's parents lived after they sold the farm to her youngest brother and his wife.

Ricky's has been in business for more than 40 years. The cuisine is simple and the prices are low.              

Power

I think this is Mel's harvester, a huge machine that tears corn ears from the stalks and strips the kernels from the cobs (probably by magic). The kernels come out of the chute on the left and into the trailer seen yesterday.

You can get a rough idea how tall this is from figuring out where my eye level would be. Heaven knows how much it costs. Best to stay out of its way.       

Children of the Corn

Lots more fun than the Stephen King story and subsequent movie. Brother-in-law Mel grows corn. His giant harvester machine dumps it into this trailer. Over Thanksgiving weekend he gets a ladder and some adults to help the kids climb in. It's strange new fun. That's Eiile in the aqua and pink.            

Rural America

What's a dazzling urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?

                - Gene Wilder to Cleavon Little, Blazing Saddles, the funniest movie in the 
                history  of American cinema IMHO

Having a wonderful time. Mrs. C asked me if I remembered the first time I came here with her about 45 years ago. I do. The first memory was her father, a stern, conservative Lutheran farmer. I had two strikes against me: Catholic (by origin) and a New Yorker. The way I won him over was that I could recite the Lord's Prayer in German (Vater unser, der Du bist im Himmel. Geheiliget werde Dein Name) so I couldn't be that bad. I foolishly climbed the windmill and expressed passing interest in cattle. Good thing he didn't find out I was at Woodstock.

This is beautiful, rolling, gently colored country. Mrs. C's family are the most delightful people you could hope to meet. (She's not so bad, either.) I enjoy every trip here.

The Farm

The farm where Mrs. C grew up has been in the family for a long time. It's now owned by her youngest brother and his wife, although you can't make a living on it without another full time job. This is the view from the house to the west, something my wife saw every day.

The corn here looks great. However, there were pockets around the area where it seemed to be on death's door. I asked about it - all anyone could tell me was micro-climate, irregular and narrow bands of rain, and drainage. The plot below might not even be good for silage. 
     

The Wizard of Oz, Or, Everybody's Gotta Make a Living

I don't think the book or the movie of The Wizard of Oz sets the starting and ending location, other than it's in the State of Kansas, which is larger and a lot emptier than your average east-of-the-Mississippi state. But Oz has to be somewhere in the Sunflower State, so the little town of Wamego, on one of our possible routes from Kansas City to the farm, has adopted it as a way to keep its claws into the map. Actually, it's kind of cute. We had lunch at Toto's Tacoz, which had some pretty good Kan-Mex food. And you can't say "I don't think we're in Kansas any more," 'cause you sure as hell are.

Us city folks can set up all kinds of cognitive dissonance here, like driving through the void back to town from the farm Saturday night, moonless, cloudless, across gravel county roads,  listening to the Liszt B Minor Piano Sonata. It could have been an out of body experience except that I was driving a Honda.    

B&W Challenge Day 6 - Hay Bales

Marshall County, Kansas, near Mrs. C's family's farm.                

Law Of The Jungle

The displays of wild animals at Cabela's had a gruesome twist: simple, violent and completely natural predation, one species taking down another to devour. Still, it was a bit in-your-face for this kind of venue. How do children react to this? It's a lot more intense than Bambi's mother being shot.

Cabela's

After the visit to the Farmstead and a bit of lunch, the family decided to visit Cabela's in Kansas City, Kansas. It's a chain of huge outdoor equipment shops - fishing, camping, hunting, guns for all occasions. I was out of my element. Where I grew up, you wouldn't dare eat anything you caught in the local waterways. Where I grew up, only the cops and really bad guys had guns. City kid that I am, I never imagined that I would visit one of these. (As Gene Wilder said to Cleavon Little in Blazing Saddles, the funniest movie of all time, what's a dazzling urbanite like you doing in a rustic setting like this?)

The place is mind-boggling. Not just the store itself but the amazing dioramas, for want of a better word, of wildlife from Africa to the Arctic. You know, things you can shoot. They reminded me of but far surpassed displays like this in the Museum of Natural History in NYC when I was a boy. You can take a virtual tour by clicking the link above.

A Kansas Farm Birthday

My wife's youngest sister, Mary Lee, has cerebral palsy and is severely handicapped. She has not had an easy life. Still, her brothers and sisters watch out for her. She is precious and much loved. She turns 60 this month and it was time to do something special for her.

She lives in a group home in a small Kansas town, quite some distance west of KC. The family brought her to town this weekend for a celebration. The suburban town of Overland Park, Kansas, has a remarkable facility, the Deanna Rose Childrens' Farmstead. It distills the essence of Kansas' farming tradition for kids who now live with air conditioning, cars and video screens. Good venue for the occasion. Above, my wife, Carolyn, is in  turquoise. Clockwise from her, Dorothy Holst, Mary Lee, Mel Kruse and Ron Kruse. 

Each of the pix below has a short note after it. And, by the way, it hit 108 F / 42 C in St. Louis today, breaking a record for the date set in 1901. Time to pay more attention to Al Gore.             

Greetings, urbanites.

Your face here.

My new business.

Lay or bust? Sounds apocalyptic.

I thought that's what scotch is for.

What To Do On Friday Night

Landoll Lanes, Marysville, Kansas, on a Friday night. There is a lot of purple, maybe because it's the color of Kansas State University, which is not far down the road. No one is actually bowling, just eating and drinking. That's okay with me. Love the carpet.

The Pridefest Day Parade is today so there should be some fresh material. And NYC on Saturday.      

Games

Very late post today. There is entirely too much on my plate.

The economy of Marysville, Kansas, has been stabilized by the presence of Landoll Corporation, a manufacturer of farm machinery.  It provides a lot of jobs. It also created a social center, Landoll Lanes, with bowling, billiards, tabletop shuffleboard and a pretty good restaurant. It was quiet, though, on the night we ate there. 

Old Time Religion

Top: something else found in the Salty Dog Saloon. I'm sure Jesus loves everyone, even senators from Kentucky.

Bottom: a church in Marysville. What's with the quotation marks? The device is frequently misused in American English and, as loyal members of the language police, Mrs. C and I could not let this pass. What was the pastor trying to communicate?         

Moo

Brother-in-law Mel's cattle in the far pasture. They might be curious because they had never seen a lens as big as my telephoto. At least it kept me at a safe distance.         

Prairie Storm

Looking north from the parking lot of our motel in Marysville, Kansas.  This can be a land of violent thunderstorms. The town lost power for about three hours Friday night and Saturday morning.      

It's Okay, He's Supposed To Know This

Guns are as much a part of the culture of rural Kansas as lenses are of mine. I'm not going to editorialize about it. Some people hunt. Some just shoot targets, which is what is going on here. Above is my nephew Josh with (I think) an AK 15. He is a third year cadet at West Point, the United States Military Academy, so he is required to know this stuff. Below, D.J, my niece's husband, gives a lesson to Brody, my - I'm not sure - grand nephew? I get confused about the terms for more distant relations.

I've never owned a gun and never will. I've fired one just a few times, probably all in Kansas. The great emphasis on safety these people have is impressive. Where I grew up, the only people who had guns were the police and a limited number of bad guys. Different worlds.