Between the Bookends

This week's blog will be shorter than last week. Last week covered an eight day week and ran longer than usual. This week, our wandering has been bookended by rain, so it will cover a scant five days. Ah, there is nothing like life between the bookends! 

We began our week in Rochester, IL, south of Springfield with all things Lincoln. Our stay in Rochester was a first for us. We completed every restaurant and attraction on our wish list for the area. This was even more remarkable considering we had a couple days of rain during our five days in town. We spent our second rainy day, Monday, with our books and computers. (I am very grateful for Kindle.) Rainy days and Mondays do not always get me down!

New Salem Village Reconstruction

On Tuesday, the sun came out, and we headed to Lincoln’s New Salem Village Historic Site, just north of Springfield. This is a recreation of an abandoned village where the young Lincoln explored the possibilities for his life. He met a businessman who hired him to take a flatboat downriver to pick up supplies for his store in New Salem. This first trip opened his eyes to a world beyond the woodlands of Indiana and Illinois. After returning, he was ready for a second trip when circumstances changed, and he was hired to work in the man’s store in New Salem.

 

The next six years offered Lincoln the opportunity to try his hand at running a General Store (two actually), surveying, serving as postmaster, a stint in the Illinois Militia during the Blackhawk War, and discovering his love for the law by reading borrowed law books. He also discovered and honed his folksy speaking style and earned the respect of the other young men his age as a wrestler. There are also old rumors of a tragic love for a daughter of one of the town's founders.. These were indeed the formative years for  A. Lincoln as he emerged into adulthood and made his way, via the law and politics, to Springfield in 1837. Here are a few of the reconstructed buildings and furnishings in Lincoln's New Salem of 1837.

 

Lincoln: the Rail Splitter

Some of Lincoln's Surveying Tools

A Model of a Flatboat

The History Gallery at the Visitor Center.

Lincoln: Assistant Surveyor

One of the Nicer Houses

The Cooper's House is the only original building on the site.

Wool and Cardimg Mill

Oxen Treadwheel for the Mill.

Replica of Lincoln's First Store

Rutledge's Tavern

The Tavern

The Road to the Grain Mill

A Resident of the Village

Lincoln's Second Store

A Cabin

The Grain Mill with Millpond

 

Wednesday was our last day in Rochester, and we generally stay close by to pack up and be ready to move the next day. After a quick run to Pawnee, IL, to grab a burger and shake at Krekel's  (yes, it was worth the drive.), we headed to Lincoln’s Memorial Garden and Nature Center just down the road from the KOA. This nature center was developed in the last century along the south shore of Lake Springfield. The intent was to restore the farmland to the woodlands from the days when Lincoln lived in the area, roughly 1860. It is a beautiful botanical park, and we enjoyed our two-mile walk along beautifully designed trails. Here are a few pictures from the day.

Sleepy the Troll

Lake Springfield

Mushrooms after the rain were everywhere.

Our Old friend, Virginia Creeper.

A Red Admiral

Osprey in flight with fish in the claws.

Aster

Signs of Autumn a Sassafras Tree

The Woodlands

The Trail

ACO, the one who helps humanity

A park resident

 

St. Louis West/Historic Route 66 KOA

It was time to leave Rochester and turn toward Missouri. We made an easy drive to Eureka, MO, following I 55, the modern iteration of Historic Route 66. Southern Illinois is farmland with vast fields of corn and soybeans. The corn-pickers were out in force. The beans were drying and nearly ready for picking while the weather was good. But, as we neared the Mississippi Valley, the land started to change. And once we were across the river, we found ourselves on the edge of the Ozarks. (We will return to the Southern Edge of the Ozarks during our stay in Hot Springs next Month after a quick jaunt into Kentucky and Tennessee.) We will spend the 10 nights here in Eureka. The last time we were in St. Louis, we learned “Siyahamba” from Desmond Tutu. That will be hard to top.  \But we will do our best, exploring both sides of the Mississippi. (Marlene took these shots.)

Meramec River

Crossing the Mississippi

Ah, Time for lunch!

When we reached the other end of our short week, the rain, courtesy of Hurricane Helene, arrived. It was the perfect bookend for our week. Bookends are like periods in a sentence and Indentations in paragraphs. They help us to pause and look back, making sense of the stuff between the bookends. In libraries, bookends help us keep similar books together. In our wandering travels, these figurative bookends help us reflect on and redirect our attention as we travel. Yep, regardless of how many days we may travel, the bookends help us appreciate and celebrate our grand opportunities each week. Rainy days don't get me down. They let me pause, reflect, and relax along the way to our next adventure!

 

Travel well, my friends! Enjoy your rainy days!

 

Bob

Filling in our last New RVing State for this trip.

A Long Road to Respect

I enjoy listening to people share their stories. Which is why I enjoyed being a Hospice Chaplain. I learned to allow people to tell their own story. However, I could only hear their story once I experienced it in their voice, including letting them tell their story in their own way. Over the last couple of years on the road, I have become acutely aware of how deaf I had become to the stories of Native Americans, African Americans, Hispanics, LGBTQ, and others who came from different backgrounds and experiences. For example, many Native Americans tell stories with symbols inscribed into or onto rocks or in pictures painted on skins or woven into blankets. Those who do not speak this pictographic language see them as primitives. Therefore, they cannot "read" the story and rely on conjecture grounded in their own stories and prejudices. If a “native speaker” translates for us, we hear it as propaganda and dismiss it as self-serving nonsense. Lest we get too tied up in ourselves, even people with a European background tell stories in their own way. They differ by degree, if not by the medium of communication. I need only cite Cincinnati Chili for an example of how another group of people experience a common word in unique ways. Hearing other’s stories is hard. It requires a great deal of respect for others and their differences. Thus, respect is a key value for all travelers. This week, I have worked hard to listen respectfully.

Our week started on Friday as we prepared to leave Lynnville and Southern Indiana. This was a short stop, a mere respite for the drive between Louisville and Indianapolis, but it turned out to be a gem. Except for a trip to Lincoln’s Boyhood home, we spent most of our time relaxing and enjoying the trails and scenery at the park. It was a nice break from our touristy lifestyle of late. (Check out last week’s blog.)

 

As Saturday dawned, it was time to head North. We packed up Koko and Nakai and began our drive through Central Indiana. Crawfordsville, IN is a small town that is  NW of Indianapolis. I grew up in towns about this size and felt right at home. We knew we wanted to go into Indy, but as I looked around the area, I saw that Indy would not be our primary focus during this stay. I found it very easy It was to listen to Crawfordsville’s stories. In many ways, it spoke the same “language” as my hometown back in Texas.

 

On Sunday, we started our day with a hot dog and a visit with the people who drive the Midwest Oscar Meyer Weinermobile. They had made a stop at our KOA and the Camp provided a free Hot Dog. The young couple who drove the Hot Dog were very personable and talked about their life on the road. They covered most of the Midwest and had visited many of the places we had been. They were also headed south. They spoke of how much they enjoyed visiting people in the campground since most of their stops were at supermarkets. After meeting them, I thought that that would be a great job for someone fresh out of college. Imagine traveling to the US and meeting people from all over. That is where the real education happens!

After enjoying our Hot Dog, we made the one trip to Indianapolis to see the Eiteljorg Museum of American Indians and Western Art. This Museum is on the Canal near the Baseball Park and Football stadium. Marlene and I were here many years ago for a church meeting, but the area has changed drastically. The Museum was built in the 1980s and tells the story of Native People in North America through their primary story-telling medium, art. I have spent my life with the written word and struggle to hear stories offered in different mediums. But I made a concerted effort to do so as we walked through the displays. It required that I put greater reliance on empathy than reason. The mind is filled with prejudices and clichés that fool me into thinking I am listening. But the art came alive when I began to place myself in the artist's frame of mind and situation. As you look at the pictures below, I invite you to step back and listen to the images!

 

Bosque Redondo was an infamous internment camp in New Mexico.

 

The Canal

Asians are also part of the history of the West.

Young Native people are also telling their story!

Monday became a  Chill Day. After my weekly Zoom with friends, I set up the smoker, pulled out my chair, and enjoyed a day reading and napping while the chicken smoked away. It was time to listen to the history of the Native People as one historian shares their story in Native Nations: A Millenium in North America, by Katheleen DuVal. Coincidentally, the stories she shares happened in the places we have been visiting for the last month. The reading enhanced my empathetic listening to all that we have been experiencing over the last several months. Yep, travel does teach “old dogs” new tricks!

 

As Tuesday rolled around, we packed our hiking gear for a Turkey Run State Park trip. This is a beautiful state park along Sugar Creek. We walked a trail that included Boulder Canyon. This moderate hike could have been treacherous, but the rock was not slick. We walked over boulders and narrow ledges as well as through mud. But the sights were extraordinary. The images do not do them justice. After a picnic lunch, we returned to Nakai and searched for old Covered Bridges.

 

The Suspension Bridge to the trails

Sugar Creek

The woodlands

Into the canyon on the first of many stairs.

 

Yep, that's the trail.

That is the trail, also!

Minerals seeping out of the rock.

Emerging from the Canyon

Across the Suspension Bridge

 

Cox Ford Bridge

Parke County, Indiana, is well-known for the 20+ covered bridges. Most no longer handle traffic, but a few are still in service. The covered bridges allowed me to see this land through the eyes of the people who have lived here. The bridges are covered in order to protect the wood and roadway from the elements. The three bridges spanned Sugar Creek and relied on internal arches to support the weight. They reflect a high degree of engineering for the people who adapted to this place and time. As such, these bridges speak to the lives of people who traveled to market in horse-drawn wagons and saw the need to work together to improve the lives of everyone. The fact that they are still preserved and protected offers insight into how proud these people are of their continuing life here at the prairie's edge.

Spanning the Creek

The Narrows Bridge

Deer's Mill Bridge

The Internal Supports

Our last full day in Crawfordsville was spent exploring the town itself. Walking downtown, we saw the Montgomery County Courthouse complete with war memorials. There is also a garden study built by Lew Wallace, a Civil War hero and author of Ben Hur. He was also the son-in-law of the town's founder and part of the elite. In addition, we saw the last rotary jail that still has a working mechanism and the county museum in the old Carnegie Library Building.

 

The Rotary Jail Museum

The Rotary jail was one of five built across the Midwest in the late 19^th century. The cells were built on a 2-3 stories high carousel. Each level had a single opening for 6 wedge-shaped cells. The platform would rotate to a single door to allow guards and inmates access into and out of the cells. The rotation was operated by a hand crank. It saved on personnel and was intended to save the county money. Unfortunately, if someone held onto the bars while the platform was turning, they would lose fingers, or worse. This jail had narrow bars after other designs allowed inmates to place their heads through the bars, which led to unfortunate consequences. Further, there was no way to evacuate all the cells quickly in an emergency. The rotating function was disabled, and doors were cut into each cell before the jail was closed in the Mid-20^th century. This jail is one of three that still survive.

 

The only cell with a view.

Women and Children's Cell

Solitary

The Design

Booking Desk

Barber's Chair

Guard's Desk

The Carnegie Museum is in a beautiful old Library built by the Carnegie Foundation in the 1800s. The Curator explained that this Museum is for locals to come and "Remember when…" However, the Museum shared the story of Crawfordsville, especially in the eyes of contemporary residents. I always enjoy these local museums. They help me understand the people and places that have offered us hospitality along the road. Thank you, Crawfordsville!

 

Switchboard

An Addressograph like the one I used at the Newspaper.

Model of the Deer's Mill Covered Bridge

On Thursday, we left Indiana and drove across the middle of Illinois. The picture could have been taken anywhere along the two-and-a-half-hour drive. The soybeans and corn stretched as far as the eye could see. The occasional tree line would appear with the highest leaves starting to suggest the change of season. I cannot tell you how relieved I was when we encountered hills and more trees in the last few miles. When we arrived at our campsite in Rochester, just outside Springfield, I was overjoyed to see tall trees and shade!

Our first full day in Springfield took us to three iconic Abraham Lincoln sites. Springfield was his home for 24 years. Lincoln settled in Springfield after leaving his boyhood home in Indiana. He spent a few years in New Salem, just north of Springfield. Lincoln arrived with two saddlebags that contained his worldly possessions and started his new job as a junior partner at a law firm. He met and married Mary Todd, who lived in the posh part of town. They raised three of their four children in the house on 8^th Street and buried one of them. He had fully intended to return to Springfield after his second term in the White House but never returned. Mary never returned either because of the memories that the town held for her. Yet, as one travels about town, I could feel his presence everywhere!

The Lincoln Home sits in a neighborhood on the prairie's edge in Lincoln's day. The entire neighborhood is part of the National Historic Site and offers a genuine feel for life in the 1860s. It does not take much imagination to hear children playing, the clip-clop of horse hooves, or the rattle of delivery wagons. The house has been extensively restored to how it appeared in 1860, the year the Lincolns moved out. Unfortunately, they sold much of the furniture when they left for Washington, DC. Several pieces were bought by a Chicago gentleman and lost in the Chicago Fire. S 8^th Street was a middle-class neighborhood within walking distance of downtown where Lincoln worked. History came alive as we walked the same route Lincoln would have walked on his way to work. We passed by First Presbyterian, where the family attended services and the store where Lincoln would stop on his way home to pick up a few things for Mary. The neighborhood itself was diverse. Immigrants and former enslaved people lived alongside long-time families from the area. They lived as neighbors, watching each other's children play together and sharing news as they made their evening strolls. Lincoln’s legacy came to life on the wooden sidewalks of S 8^th Street in Springfield, Illinois.

Model of home when they bought it for $1,500.

Model of home after first renovation.

Final Renovation

S 8th Street

The Lincoln Home

Formal Parlour

Dining Room

 

Mary's Room

Abe's Toiletry Stand

Abe's Writing Desk

Abe's wardrobe

Guest Bedroom

Family Parlour

Family Parlous. Abe did not fit in any of the chairs. He usually sat on the floor.

Where Abe took off his boots on entering the house.

A Neighbor's Dray Wagon.

Neighborhood House

Replica of Campaign Wagon

Wooden Sidewalks

Back of the Lincoln Home

Kitchen

Back Stairs

Robert Todd's Bedroom

I mentioned that we walked the same route that Lincoln would have walked each day when he went to his law office. We ate lunch across the Street from the Lincoln and Herndon – Law Offices building. We then walked two blocks past the Old Indiana Statehouse, where Lincoln served several terms as a representative, and arrived at the Lincoln Presidential Museum and Library. We toured the Museum that told the story of the Lincolns in wonderful multimedia films, life size dioramas, and a few artifacts. It was an enjoyable few hours hearing the familiar and unfamiliar stories of the Lincoln legacy.

First Presbyterian Church

Law Office Building

The Old Statehouse

Abe welcomes us to his cabin.

Cabin Interior

Abe affected by watching a Slavery Auction.

he Tried Running a Store in New Salem.

Abe and Mary a'courting.

Abe and Douglas debating Slavery made him a household name.

Abe's Parenting style was very laid back.

The Younger Boys entertaining the,selves at Abe's Law Office

Mary and her maid.

During the death of their first child.

A Mother's Sorrow

Abe's Cabinet debating the Emancipation Proclamation.

Pondering Releasing the Proclamaion

{hotos showing how his life in the White House aged him.

A cast made 6 weeks before he died. It looks like a death mask.

Ford's Theater

Moments before the shot rang out.

Lying in State in House of Representatives in DC.

The First Family

Frequent visitors to the White House, Frederick Douglas and Sojourner Truth

A lonely man

A Home-grown Stateman

The Presidential Library

Stautue of the Lincoln Family shopping in the Old Springfield.

After spending the afternoon with the stories of Lincoln, it was time to head to Oak Ridge Cemetery and see the Lincoln Tomb. At the base of the obelisk, we entered the tomb. We walked a corridor lined with miniature statues of Lincoln throughout his life. When we reached the burial vault, we found a large, ornate monument inscribed with the President’s name and dates on one side of the corridor. It is interesting to note that due to an attempted theft of Lincoln’s casket ten years after his death, he was reburied in the vault under ten feet of concrete. On the other side of the path were the crypts that held Mary Todd Lincoln and three of their children. The fourth, Robert, is buried in Arlington National Cemetery. After a day of imaginatively walking in his footsteps, it was powerful to stand in the presence of the family’s remains. It was the end of a remarkable day as I learned the legacy of a man of compassion, courage, and integrity. He became more than a topic in American History. He was and is part of our continuing story.

The Great Emancipator

Abe heading out on his own.

Heading to Springfield with all his worldly possessions.

The Country Lawyer

The Great Debater

At Rest

The Noble Lincoln

Tthe Compassionate Lincoln

The Man of Intergity.

A Man of Humility.

The Rotunda

 

"He belongs to the ages!"

 

This week, I am grateful for the gift of empathy that has allowed me to walk with so many people in Indiana and Illinois, from those who have lived on this land for over 10,000 years to others who, like me, were immigrants to a new home. I have tried my best to hear their voices as they told of their experiences in this place. Empathy is only possible when we choose to be respectful of all people and offer them the attention and forbearance required to discern their voice among all the others screaming in our ears. To travel well means to extend this respect to all people, living or dead, listening for their voices, which is more than just hearing or reading words. It means listening with empathy and insight and seeking to understand, not critique. That respect has helped me add all these voices to the conversation with those who continue to help me understand life and the world we all share. For all these voices, I remain eternally grateful.

Travel well, my friends.

Bob

Filling in the last state for this trip. Four more to go to finish the map.