This summer we took Mom in The Epic Van on a tour of all her old Kansas haunts. We’re calling it the Origins of Jeannine Tour.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
We stopped at the gas station in Republic, Kansas, where Mom remembers, when she was 4 years old, Grandpa sitting sideways in the car and telling her, “You have a new baby brother.” She was thrilled with the idea of a new playmate. But when they brought him home and set him on the library table in a basket, all she could see was his little fists waving as he cried, and she said, “You should take him back.”
This summer we took Mom in The Epic Van on a tour of all her old Kansas haunts. We’re calling it the Origins of Jeannine Tour.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
We knocked on a random door in Wayne, Kansas, population 68, where Grandpa Prichard was teaching when Mom was born, and found Jane Maddy, the local historian, who recognized Harley Prichard’s name and, in her many three-ring binders, had a picture of Harley with his 1927 basketball team, which included Jane’s father, “Champ” Campbell, far left. She told us the school had burned and was now a pig sty. I thought she meant it was a mess. Not!!!
This summer we took Mom in The Epic Van on a tour of all her old Kansas haunts. We’re calling it the Origins of Jeannine Tour.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
The Origins of Jeannine Tour commenced with a family reunion in Marysville, a visit with her sister-in-law, Margie, in Riley, a doorbell reunion with college pals, and a stop at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Concordia, where it all began. The historic plaque must be in the shop for repair!
On Father’s Day, instead of waffles and eggs, we opted for a hike through the tallgrass prairie preserve in Tom’s native Illinois, one of his longtime dreams.
In Manter, Kansas, just over the Colorado border in the southwest corner of the Sunflower State, the only paved road is U.S. 150, which parallels railroad tracks and grain silos.
In a hot hay field about 10 miles west of Lamar, Colorado, in the southeast corner of the state, Tyrel Reed, 28, was baling hay. Fast.
Driving toward the Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve, you start to see tan ripples at the base of towering, snow-covered mountains, like a mirage wavering on the edge of your consciousness. Are they really there?
They are.
We have viewed the Grand Canyon from the South Rim, rafted through it on the Colorado River, but never seen it from the North Rim. What a stunning mistake.
On the road again, feeling that push-pull, bittersweet emotion of leaving after a month-long stop at “home” in Arizona that was filled with love, celebration, reconnection and inspiration.