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.

Civic Pride

We usually spend a night in Kansas City on our way to Mrs. C's family farm. Our favorite hotel is the 816, which refers to KC's telephone area code. The decoration theme is Kansas City everything and the walls are covered with blown-up old photos of the town. This one looks like it is from about the 1920s. Don't say this to a New Yorker.

Off to the countryside shortly.       

Sad But True

Seen at coffee stand in an office building. We don't have any kind of universal pension system in this country. Social Security covers a lot of people but doesn't come close to meeting normal living expenses. It may not cover you at all if you have been out of the labor market due to raising children, medical problems or lack of job skills.

Everybody in the US knows what a 410(k) plan is. It refers to a section of the tax law that allows us to invest money tax free for retirement. There is no money to fund one of these if you are a barista, home health care aide or self-employed artist. These people struggle to meet their daily needs. The sign on the tip jar is a bitter joke. That's life in America.

Over to Kansas City tonight, then on to Mrs. C's family farm for Thanksgiving.       

Enjoy Las Vegas

The so-called festival of lights in Kiener Plaza was also a festival of commerce. Some of it has a bit of the huckster in it. The awning just to the right of the statue of the runner says Enjoy Las Vegas, maybe selling some package tour you may regret buying. The one on the far right is selling replacement windows.

We've been to Las Vegas, or maybe better said through it, a number of times. We spend the first or last night there on trips to Death Valley, our favorite place in this country to clear out our heads. We're not really into Vegas. We don't gamble. You can get some decent rates on hotel rooms. Lots of restaurants (of varying quality - the buffet at Luxor was awful), Seen some shows - Cirque du Soleil - flashy but yawn; Paula Poundstone - pretty funny. We'd rather be away from the lights, way out in the dark of the desert night.