A Change of Seasons....

It is Sunday, and our last day in Naveda, It is a day of breakfasts: first a "light" one at our B&B. Then everyone is invited to the college President's home for a breakfast reception; a stand up affair. We picked Britta up at her dorm and drove out to the ELCA church with Pastor Kim (her husband teaches chemistry in Kansas.. and has a terrific bass voice and a great sense of humor).

It was a very nice service. The ELCA has just finished it's conference. Among other things, it is now in full communion with us United Methodists, and they have passed an historic resolution on human sexuality as it pertains to various gendered people. Imagine the vulnerable position of this thirty-something woman, explaining what this means to a mid-western small town congregation. She did it with grace. Britta ended up winning the Study Bible, and was delighted to see lots of little ones in the service (an hour and a half). I was a bit surprised that Lutherans did not serve any coffee after the service. Sigh.

We went back to campus for yet another breakfast; brunch this time. Students are expected to 'dress up" (which might mean nice pants or a dress) for certain times and occasions at Cottey, Sunday through brunch being one of those. The brunch was as good as it had been touted to be, and there were white table clothes and we didn't have to clear our dishes. For us "civilians" the cost was only $8 for a buffet that included smoked salmon, baklava, blintzes, and a whole host of other goodies.

Then it was a long drawn-out goodbye with Britta who was being torn by her excitement at meeting her roommate and getting on with college... and saying goodbye to us (mostly to Brian). My last bit of motherly advise was that she knew how I felt about tattoos. Nevertheless, I'd rather have her bypass the sketchy place in Naveda and come back to the clean, reputable one in Eugene. She was way ahead of me, and had already figured that out (the second photo above is of Britta walking to her dorm after our good-byes).

And we were off! Brian and I... sans children, for the first time in 29.5 years. The road and life stretched ahead of us. We reorganized the car and set the GPS for Kansas City to the place I'd been reading about that has the "best fried chicken in America!" It took just two hours to get there. Not that we were hungry .. but you can't pass up a place like that. It looks small when you walk in, but it is huge and there are nooks and crannies all over to sit down.

The waitress couldn't have been nicer. We ordered two 'family style chicken dinners' which meant we got two breasts and 6 pieces of dark meat... all on a platter, a bowl of mashed potatoes, a bowl of drippings-gravy, a bowl of green beans (typical 'south' in that they had been boiled at least a couple of hours), and a basket of cinnamon rolls. The chicken was very good, and again, I picked it up in my fingers. Of course we couldn't finish it all, but we took it with us (and the waitress gave us extra gravy). We knew it would be good later!

So on the road again. This time in search of Faucett, MO, where my mother was born (almost 89 years ago), and my grandmother was raised. It is only about an hour way, and 7 miles from St. Joseph. I continue to like Missouri. The hills are rolling and lush. Still, the only two crops I see are corn and soy for ethanol. And very strange is that homes boast of big, expansive grass lawns .. but we have yet to see a single home vegetable garden, or even an orchard, for that matter.

Faucett is on a hill. And it is small. It's very strange to drive through a town and know that you had relatives living there for a good long time and not know where. I looked at houses and tried to imagine which might have belonged to my grandmother's family ... large enough to raise four girls, with a working farm .. but certainly not rich or ostentatious. I took pictures of some likely candidates. (This was not unlike some six years ago being in Southern Sweden, looking for my paternal grandmother's home and family headstones).

We found the Christian church, which to my recollection, is the one to which my grandmother's family belonged. And then we found a (the?) cemetery: the Faucett Cemetery. Bri and I split forces and looked for my grandmother's maiden name: Corrington. There were Meads, and Means, and lots of other great first and last names (I love Fannie, Horatio, Sallie), but no Corringtons; and believe me, we looked at all the headstones!

So we left Faucett. I don't know if I'll ever get back; but I've been there once. I touched a part of my history, and the image lives in my mind's eye.

Then we went into St. Joseph .. a really big city (some 70,000). It is a place filled with history and museums, old and grand brick buildings; hilly and picturesque. St. Joseph was the beginning point (Sacramento and San Francisco being the end) for the 18-month Pony Express "experiment."

We would continue through Missouri, to Sioux City Iowa and arrive at 9pm. Using all the technology at my fingertips, I surfed the net and found through Priceline a very good motel w/ breakfast, two beds (and all the 'stuff' that makes it nice), for $55! Yeah!!

The landscape has flattened out, but it is still very green. I'm getting used to it. It's still too much freeway for me, but that will change (I think) tomorrow, when we head to Mt. Rushmore.