To Go Back??

Last Sunday, the wife and I took an afternoon trip down to Harper County and vicinity.  I wanted to see some of the more out-of-the-way places in the area…Milan, Argonia, Freeport, Bluff City, Spring, Manchester, Waldron.  It has been years since I’ve been to some of these places, and the drive on the county roads to get there was just what the doctor ordered for Father’s Day.

None of the towns has gained in population.  None has re-developed its business district.  In fact, it is no surprise that the towns have continued to deteriorate from how they were 30, 40, 50 years ago.  Bluff City, for example, did have a small business district many years ago.  Now, the buildings aren’t even there.  Schools are shuttered and lifeless, or they are now senior centers or other use.  Roads aren’t very good, and the paved roads that once went to these communities are now gravel.

Trains no longer go through Freeport on their way to Anthony.  No rails traverse through Spring and Bluff City on their way to Metcalf…the end of the line.  Co-ops, old vehicles, some mobile homes, and a post office are all that is left (Freeport still has a bank).

But the thing that really struck me is that on all of the county roads we traveled, there were no farmsteads…no homes.  These roads we went on were the main roads to and from these communities; yet the lack of houses and farmsteads was stark and telling.  I’m not sure anyone lives in rural southern Harper County anymore.

Years ago, one could drive those roads with a knowledgeable person, and that person would point out this farmstead, that home place, or some ranch.  They would know who lived there, and maybe call the place by the original owner’s name, such as, “There’s the old Macksville place…Yeagers live there now.”  But forever, it will be “the old Macksville place.”

Now, there aren’t even trees and a driveway where homes, barns, corrals, windmills, and buffalo grass used to be.  They’ve for the most part been bull-dozed and put to use as farm ground.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I have to wonder where the guys who farm now actually live.  And just how many (or how few) farmers are there, anyway?

And the oil.  My goodness, the oil!  It has, along with wind power, forever changed the landscape of that part of Kansas.  Derricks are drilling the new fracking wells now, and there are oil storage tanks, oil businesses, pipelines, oil trucks, and suffering gravel roads all over the place.  And in the distance one can see the wind farm in Barber and northern Harper Counties.  From as far away as 15 or so miles, those towers can be seen.

And talk about forever changing the landscape.   New power lines are springing up.  Newly-found wealth and demand is creating a miniature building boom in Anthony and Harper.  Harper has a new water tower and a remodeled hospital that fills two city blocks.  Both communities have new motels.  Oil businesses have moved in on the outskirts of both towns.

So time moves on.  People move on.  Places move on.  And those memories of how things used to be are no more than that…pleasant thoughts that surface from time to time at the urging of something we see, hear, or smell.  And the reality is that we can never go back.  We can never have it “like it used to be.”  And I’m not sure but what I wouldn’t want to go back anyway.

It's Over...(Thankfully)

Well, it’s over.  I didn’t go, however, and I didn’t miss anything.  OK, I know that sounds rather curmudgeonly, and it probably is, but I’m talking about the Wichita River Festival that clogged the downtown streets, left trash in various public and private areas, caused traffic to be re-routed, and generally was disruptive to many who live/work in this area.

Oh, I know there are many who enjoy such things, and I don’t begrudge anyone for that.  Wichita does have a major river flowing (sort of) in its downtown area, and there needs to be some way to celebrate that fact, I think, as well as utilize the green spaces, parks, and other places along and near the river.  So, it’s all good, and those who enjoy such things surely took advantage of the opportunity.  Rock on…

But it’s also disruptive to routine and costly.  Used to be one could wander around many places without a five-dollar button.  Not now.  I didn’t even go to the food court this year because I didn’t want to spend the extra five dollars to be let in.  The only other thing I might have wanted to watch was the fireworks show, and I can see that without a button.

So, call me a curmudgeon if you must.  And if you do, I’ll gladly show you my official curmudgeon certificate from the ISOC (International Society of Curmudgeons).  And maybe something like RiverFest would put some spring into my step and some gallop into my gait…I dunno.  But I’m not sure I want much more “spring” than I already have, and I don’t think I could handle a gait “gallop.”

We deal with closed streets, various races and runs, and other events through the year at our church building downtown that it is becoming normal to come to church on Sundays from the north instead of taking the most direct route.  Life is indeed like that; we need to be prepared to be moved from our routine and adjust to the unexpected, even if we don’t like it.  And I really do “get it.”

So, here’s to the River Festival, the 5K runs, the 10K runs, the bike runs, and all of the other that makes us take notice that life isn’t normal and predictable by any stretch…and to the curmudgeons of the world who let us know in no uncertain terms the truth of that statement.

Who Would Hvve Thought??

Three weeks ago, I went to the dentist because one of my molars was hurting.  The tooth had done this a couple of years ago, and at that time the dentist thought that eventually, a root canal would have to be done.  The time finally came, and he did the root canal on that visit.  He said there was “no good tissue” in the tooth, and I could tell from the odor that it was in bad shape.  He gave me an antibiotic and some pain pills and told me to see him again in a week.

After several days of rather severe pain, dulled only by Tylenol #3 and Lortab, I went back to see him.  He had by this time received a couple of calls from me, and had changed my antibiotic.  He said it was still infected and needed to heal some more before he filled the tooth and sealed it.  I went back after another week, and he said the same thing, only this time he was going on vacation for two weeks.

It’s been a week into his vacation and I’ve already seen the “substitute” dentist who agreed to see his patients if needed while he was away.  I have yet another new antibiotic I’m trying and am back on the pain medications after having several days when I could go without.  I’m ready for this to be over.

Yet I have to put my experiences with this tooth in the context of the First World that I talk about some, and how this same thing might play out with someone who lives in the third world.  First, I may well not be alive at my age if I lived in the third world.  Second, if I was alive, I may well not have ANY teeth by now.  Third, if I had teeth, and if one was infected, a dentist, antibiotics, and pain medication would be luxuries that I could only imagine.  If I did manage to see someone who worked on teeth, whether a Dentist or not, the tooth probably would be pulled and I’d be left to deal with the aftermath of infection, bleeding, and pain.

The active ingredient in Tylenol, acetaminophen, and the active ingredient in Motrin, ibuprofen, are common medications in the homes of most people in the first world.  Aspirin is also very common.  We pop those pills for twinges of back pain, minor arthritis, headache, and any number of other things that make our bodies not quite normal.

We can obtain antibiotics at the local pharmacy, with prescription, for just a few dollars unless it’s a new, high-powered one of some kind.  The old standbys are plenty cheap, however.  And insurance pays most of the cost anyway.

And we can usually get in to see a provider without a lot of difficulty.  I went to the office at 1:30pm, and was told that if I wanted to wait around, there was an opening at 2:30 and the dentist would see me.  So I waited and read a Readers Digest after filling out the new patient forms.  I realize some rural areas and “backwoods” areas are a little less accommodating and have fewer providers, but by and large, most of our population has someone available, if necessary.  And dental insurance pays most of the cost.

Hopefully, things will improve with this new antibiotic and with what she did to my tooth.  Hopefully, I’ll feel better and can go until my dentist gets back and I fulfill my appointment with him next Wednesday.  Hopefully, I won’t have to ask for more Tylenol #3 or Lortab.  Hopefully, I won’t have to ask to see the substitute Dentist again.  But I know those things are available to me if I need them.

Sincerely thankfully, I happen to be blessed with living in the First World.  Who would have thought??

An Enigmatic Creation

The holiday that opens up the summer season is over.  Memorial Day is usually considered the start of summer activities.  Swimming pools open, graduations are over, many schools are out for the summer, and folks are planning vacations, trips, and get-togethers.  The weather is turning warmer and more summer-like.  Wheat in the grain belt is ripening and plants in the garden are flourishing in the warmth and rain.

Memorial Day, of course, is more than the herald of summer.  It has become a three-day holiday of boating, picnics, and travel, but also solidly remains a day of remembrance…of war and peace, sacrifice and duty.  A remembrance of family and friend, ancestor and contemporary.  We stop if even for a few moments in the peace of the cemetery and remember those who have gone before us.

For many of us, a visit to the cemetery once a year is an anticipated, yet tentative task.  At the cemetery where the Planks are mostly interred, we take a look around to see the newly dug sites and check to see whose body may be at rest there.  Most of the time we know who it is since we come from a small, rural area and the cemetery is a rural church cemetery.

Sometimes, we already knew of that person’s passing.  Sometimes, though, we are surprised to learn of the passing of an old friend or distant relative.  And sometimes we look at the newer, but not very recent grave sites and remember again the passing of someone we once knew about, but it had slipped our minds over the past year.

Those kinds of slips of the mind, I’m afraid, will become more and more common; not just regarding those who have died and gone before us.  But rather in many other ways, we will one time know something, then a year or more later “learn” of it again.  We will then remember back to when we first heard of it and criticize ourselves for forgetting.

And then, as if the holiday weekend had a split personality, we get together with family and friends.  We barbeque.  We go boating and camping.  We fish and hike and eat and visit.  We enjoy the company of others.  We reminisce and catch up.  We travel.  The whole three day weekend seems busier and more filled with events and “stuff” to do than any normal work day or week.

And so it goes (to borrow a phrase).  I have to wonder what someone who might come from another galaxy, and who watches what we do here on earth might have to say about how we do things.  Nevertheless, the way we do things IS the way we do things.  And if we really didn’t like it, we’d change, I suppose.  So here’s to the human body, soul and spirit, created by God and endowed with amazing capabilities of thought, reason, and emotion.  We are indeed an enigmatic creation, but in many ways wouldn’t have it any other way.

That Gentle Tug

“I don’t know where the culture line is between back there and up there is, but we’re going to cross it at some point.”

So said I tonight on the way from Harper to Wichita.  Harper is the town where I was born, raised, and we raised our sons.  Wichita is where we live now.  Somewhere in between the two cities, along highway 42, lies a culture “line” that when crossed, changes how we think, react, and act about and toward a lot of things having to do with life and living.

Oh, some things stay the same regardless of which side of the line we’re on.  But there are so many things that are an integral part of one culture, but are totally foreign to the other.

Just one example of that is eating out.  In Wichita, you can go “out” to eat any time during the day or night and get just about whatever you want.  Fast food joints are open until midnight or later.  Grocery stores are open 24-7.  Many restaurants are open until 11pm, midnight, or later.  And several are open all night.

But in Harper, one has to plan.  First, there aren’t but a few places to eat.  Second, most of them close at 8pm.  Third, one can’t always get what one wants there…Mexican, Chinese, Thai…forget it unless you happen to go to the Country Creamery when it’s open…they do have some Mexican dishes.  Fast food?  Nope.  Have to go to McD’s in Anthony to get your fix, and I’m not sure if it’s open late or not.  Shop for groceries?  Only until early evening.  Then you have to wait until tomorrow or go to the 7-11-type place and hope they have it.

And the traffic.  In Wichita, you have to look out or you’ll be run over.  You have to travel approximately the speed of the normal traffic flow, which is usually 5 to 10 miles over the speed limit.  And you have to do things like merge, move over for ambulances and fire equipment, and watch out for crazies, both in vehicles and on foot or bike.

In Harper, you can sort of drive as you want to (within limits).  If you want to go slow and “look at the crops,” that’s OK.  Others are out doing that too.  Change lanes?  What lanes?  Merge?  From where to where?  Fire trucks?  When they’re out, that’s worthy of a front page article in the local newspaper.  And if you want to turn around, just find someone’s driveway or do a turn in the middle of the road.  That’s fine.

Those are just a couple of examples.  Others might include people waving at you when your vehicles pass each other on the road, even though you don’t know them and they don’t know you.  Especially on rural dirt roads, if you’re out there, the other guy figures you’re supposed to be there and are probably a neighbor from somewhere.  Or you stop in at the local restaurant and are recognized and waited on by the staff who are genuinely glad to see you.  And the owner stops by your table to make sure things are OK.  In Wichita, you don’t know who owns the places where you eat, by and large.  And people try very hard to ignore you as they pass you on the road or sidewalk.

So yes, there is a culture shock as you cross the line in both directions.  People who have never experienced the rural haven’t a clue; neither have those a clue who are rural but have never experienced the urban.   I feel fortunate in that I know both.  I can seemingly move from one to the other without much to-do, although I sometimes feel a gentle tug and longing for what has been whenever we cross the culture line from the rural to the urban.  Funny, though, I don’t feel that tug when we’re going the other way…

Call Me Wimpy

OK, call me wimpy.  For one of the few times I can remember in our almost 40 years of married life, I got into our tornado hidey-hole with my wife last Sunday.  Normally I’m NOT out looking at the clouds; I’m looking at the radar and the TV.  But the house went dark when the lights went off, and on KFDI on the battery radio, they said the tornado was spotted just south of Mid Continent Airport.

We live just a half mile or so west of the airport, and I was thinking deep inside myself that the storm was moving away from us, but stranger things have happened than to have something change and now a whirlwind is right on top of us.  So I got a chair and sat in the little closet under the basement stairway while the wife sat on some pillows over in the corner.  We had our medications (important for old folks), a light, battery radio, blankets and pillows, and a few other things we thought were important like an extra cell phone battery fully charged.

We didn’t spend a long time in there because a short while later they said the storm was farther away from us.  We came out and surveyed things which by now consisted of rain and small hail and some wind.  I called the power company’s “out of service” line and was told by the mechanical man that it would be 18 to 32 hours before we were restored.

I started planning hooking up the emergency generator to run the refrigerator and freezer, along with a few lights.  I had a gallon or so of gas in the unit, so knew it would be good for an hour or so.  I got it hooked up and going; then went to the Quick Trip place where they had power and pumped five more gallons of gas into a can…came back and poured it into the machine.

So, we were set for awhile.  Although nothing happened to us from the wind or hail, I felt rather uneasy and disconnected, so to speak, from normal life.  Besides, the generator was now sputtering from time to time and wasn’t running well.  Neighbors came out and we visited about the events of the day.  One neighbor had his generator going as well.  We commiserated as best we could.

After about six hours, the power came back on.  The mechanical man was incorrect, thankfully, and the power was restored just about dark.  I disconnected the generator, hooked back into the power grid, blew out the gas lamps, and went back to normal.  Later in the week, I took the generator apart and found a grounding wire that was sometimes touching the metal shield close to it, causing the spark to be intermittent.  Fixing that fixed the generator.  I put a load on it and ran her for awhile…did fine.

So, call me wimpy.  Hidey hole…generator…gas lamps…radio.  Age tends to make a body look at things just a little differently than it did some years ago.  And that’s not a bad thing.