Finally back on the road, we headed up to St. Louis. There was a whole lot of flooding along the way—expansive lakes making themselves at home where they shouldn’t be. We also ran into some snow around the time we stopped at Burger King to eat. We stared out the windows at the snow swirling around our paper-crowned reflections. Like in any city, there seemed so much to do in St. Louis with so little time. Our main goal, however, was to see the Gateway Arch (the Gateway to the West—886 tons of stainless steel soaring 630 ft above the site where an old trading post used to stand, constructed 1963-65), and we did accomplish that.
Jason had never been to St. Louis or seen the arch, so it was a must. We even took the ride inside of it to the top. We also spent some time in the underground museum at the bottom of it. On our way out of the city we drove by the river. It was flooded almost up to the street. We were staring in amazement at the water when I spotted something in the middle of the water: “Hey, Jason—what’s that?” We drove a little closer for a better look and realized it was a riverside statue of a cowboy tipping his hat to the west. The statue’s usually high and dry, but now the cowboy looked like he was trying to hold his hat out of the water!
Next, we veered off the beaten path for a few minutes to find Graham Cave in New Florence, MO. We were prepared for a spelunking adventure, with our gear in hand, but it ended up being less like a cave and more like an opening in the rock. It was still an incredibly interesting rock formation to see. It’s an archaeological dig site as well because of all the many generations of people that used it for shelter, etc.
“I’m goin’ to Kansas City—Kansas City, here I come!... I’m gonna be standin’ on the corner—12th Street and Vine! ...I’m goin’ to Kansas City—Kansas City, here I come!” Th
is was the song constantly running through my head after we left New Florence, cuz indeed, it was our next destination. In fact, we tried to search out the corner of 12th Street and Vine, just so we could say we actually DID stand there, but the maps and city lay-out were a little confusing. Perhaps if we were only in the car, it would have been easier, but driving that Uhaul (with the car in-tow) all over the city complicates things. No trip across country seems complete without stopping to see some random useless things. We tried to see as many as we could. Some worked out, some didn’t. While there are many things (and probably many of them more momentous, educational, and worthwhile) to do in Kansas City, we decided we wanted to visit the largest yard birdie (shuttlecock) we’d ever seen. It was at the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. This art museum had a sculpture garden on its grounds. The designer had decided to view the art museum building as a badminton net, so he placed 17 ft high birdies around the grounds, like they were flying over the building/net. In addition to playing with the shuttlecocks, we also pretended to be more distinguished and sophisticated as we viewed the inside of the museum for a little cultural enlightenment.
In a round-about way, Jason is related somehow to Jesse James. I don’t understand the connection totally, but supposedly Jesse and Frank James had cousins in KY who were also named Jesse and Frank. Jason’s KY peoples are related to this other set of cousins. Regardless of the actuality or preciseness of the relation, Jason grew up with a lot of cool stories about his distant cousins, so we decided it fitting to visit some of the James’ sites while in Missouri.
We visited Jesse James’s birthplace home (the James’ Farm) in Kearney, MO and learned a lot about him and his fa
mily through a video we watched there. We toured the museum, the house, and Jesse’s original resting place. Apparently, the Civil War was a hugely divisive issue in Missouri (and unlike many folk think, slavery wasn’t the main issue). Half the state was for the Union and half for the Confederacy. This caused a lot of fighting and violence within the state. After the Union won, grudges in Missouri didn’t fade with the war. Those who supported the Confederacy were treated as second class citizens—not being able to hold certain jobs or use certain public services (banks, etc.). The supporters of the Confederacy were not given their full rights or due consideration as equal citizens and
because of this, Jesse James and his gang (along with other guerilla-warfare-type groups) declared war on society, robbing trains and banks, etc. Some compare him to Robin Hood. Though there is no evidence he ever did anything benevolent with the money, he was, in a sense, fighting injustice (as Dr. King said, as fighting fire with fire is pointless—only water can do that, so is fighting hate with hate—only love can do that. But this is besides the point here…).
This birthplace home was the safe haven for Jesse, Frank, and the gang. It was also sometimes the headquarters of planning for many of the robberies and acts of violence. It was at this house that Jesse and Frank’s step dad was lynched and 8yr old brother was killed by a bomb thrown in the window by opposition to the James Gang. Indeed, there was a lot of opposition to the James brothers, but there was also a lot of support—many people considered them heroes for defending the interests of the people. When Jesse was shot in the back of the head and killed by
one of his “friends” (kinda like a Judas situation of betrayal) at his home in St. Joseph, his body was brought to the James’ farm. His mother was afraid of the desecration she thought would come to his grave at the hands of the opposition, so she had the grave dug next to the house where she could keep an eye on it from her window. When the grave was later moved to a nearby cemetery, people (whether those in opposition or tourists greedy for a souvenir) chiseled away at Jesse’s tall monument until it was only a small stump on the ground, just as his mother had feared.
In the bookstores/gift shops, chunks of wood from the tree that us
ed to stand over Jesse’s grave were being sold very inexpensively. There’ve been debates about where the real Jesse James is actually buried, so in the 90’s or so the body was exhumed for DNA testing. This event disturbed the roots of the tree (cedar, I think), and it died. I bought one of the pieces of wood just cuz I thought it was pretty (I’m a big fan of wood). It was also fun to imagine, though, that if Jesse was buried next to that tree long enough, the decomposition of his body would have nourished the tree, and therefore a part of Jesse James could, in a round-about way, be in my chunk of wood—ooooo—deep. Jason got a couple of small souvenirs as well—his were more sensible, though, like historic papers, stories, and information.
We also went to the site of a historic bank robbery in Liberty, MO. The robbery is attributed to the James Gang. Of course, none of it can be proven. The “legend” goes that it was Jesse and Frank James, but as history would have it, Jesse was recovering from a bad gunshot wound and would probably not have been medically able to actually participate. It’s possible and even probable that Jesse may have helped with the planning, rather than participating. The assumption that Frank directly participated in the robbery is a little more considerable because of probabilities and eye-witnesses, etc. Regardless, the robber
y is attributed to the gang, and it was the first daylight bank robbery during peace times. It was also the largest amount of money stolen from a bank: $62,000 of cash and bonds in 1866 (which, if you do the math, is a heck of a lot of money in today’s terms!).
Back on the road again, leaving the Kansas City area, we headed across the loooong state of Kansas. Getting a bit hungry, we decided to venture off the interstate into the big town of Topeka. We’d heard there was a sandwich shop there we both like, so we followed our hankerin’s downtown. It’s probably not even possible to imagine my shock and appall when I looked out my window and saw one of the most notorious hate groups having a rally on the sidewalk. I knew at once who it was when I saw a young child holding up a sign that read, “God Hates Fags.” We studied them in sociology in college and I’ve been to the website (be careful it’ll turn your stomach), and I’ve read about them, seen interviews, and documentaries about the
m. My shock faded as they passed from my window’s sight, and it all began to make sense. I remembered hearing that their leader and headquarters were in Topeka. I’ve had run-ins with the KKK only a couple or few times, and the feeling was much the same—there’s something about an encounter with the close-mindedness and ignorance of hate groups that just does something indescribable to the spirit, mind, & body.
The thing about them that makes me sick is how they brainwash the kids. I mean, hey—if you’re an adult and you make a conscience decision to let hate be the focus of your life, so be it—you’re an adult and that’s your decision (still doesn’t make it right, though…), but don’t feed something that poisonous to your children! That should be considered child abuse. Kids are impressionable and don’t know any better. There was a reporter once that interviewed one of the kids who was holding up a “God Hates Fags” sign. She asked the child, “Why does God hate fags?” “Because they’re
evil and God wants us to get rid of the bad people.” “Well, what is a fag?” The child looked kind of confused and replied, “they’re, ummm…well, they’re evil people.” The child didn’t even know what a fag was or who he so avidly hated. It’s a great example of proof-texting and taking scripture out of context (making a verse work for you—using it for your own purpose, not for the purpose it was intended). In light of all the verses in the bible that talk about love—loving everyone—and God’s love, how could you possibly say that God HATES anyone?
I mentioned
it to the people working at the sandwich shop. They said, “Oh, ya—they’re from here. They have rallies and marches all the time. Topeka also has large groups of Neo-nazis and KKK that demonstrate quite often.” Dumfounded, I began to imagine what it would be like to live in a place like that. The darkness. The hate. The tolerance of bystanders. How backwards! The phrase arm-pit of the nation began to pop into my head. “Well, good luck living here,” was all I could say as we walked out with our sandwiches. As we drove back by the place they’d been demonstrating, the God Hates Fags people were gone—it had only been a matter of 15 min. or so. Cops were now around, so I assume something had happened and they’d quickly dispersed.
The main reason we’d stopped in Topeka was that I wanted to see the small museum about the landmark civil rights case Brown vs. Topeka Board of Education. It would have been cool to see, but it was closed. Our aim was to marvel at the progression of civil rights, tolerance, and
the historic case that helped get the ball rolling, so to speak. We wanted to see how far we’ve come, instead we were blind-sided with how far we still have to go to become a people of tolerance, understanding, compassion, and love.
There was a lot of cool random things we wanted to see in Kansas, but time would not allow all the excursions we wanted to take. One that we wanted to see but didn’t was the museum of “Largest Miniature Versions of Large Things” (?????) and the largest ball of twine, both near Lucas. Oh well, next time! We had to pick and choose, and the next choice we made was the Mushroom State Park in Kanapolis. It ended up being further out of the way than we expected, but it was pretty awesome to see once we finally got there. Basically, it’s just a bunch of rocks that look kind of like mushrooms. One of my favorite things about the landscape out west is the geological formations—one can hardly deny that erosion much be one of God’s sculpting tools of creation and art.
How could we pass by the town of Wilson, Kansas without stopping? We had to represent for all my Wilson clan by stopping and taking pictures in Wilson. It’s a small town—not really much to see. The sign says it’s the “Czech capital of Kansas”???? I’m guessing it was somehow settled by a bunch of Czech people, though as far as I know, Wilson is not at all a Czech name…
We stopped at Prairie Dog town in Oakley to see the largest prairie dog in the world (my dad and I have been there, but I wanted Jason to see it), but it was closed. We did, however, get to see the largest sunflower painting in Goodland. It’s a giant rendition of one of Vincent Van Gogh’s sunflower paintings. The canvas is 24 feet by 32 feet. It seems pretty random and strange—the location and the landmark—until you realize that the town is know for its sunflower crop. Aaaa-hah!!!—now it all makes sense
!
Having a pretty good idea that we’d be back several times to visit Colorado, we didn’t stop to see a whole lot there, but made up for lost traveling time instead. We couldn’t pass through the state without seeing the Colorado Wilsons, so we stopped in Sedalia and had a short but sweet visit with my uncle, aunt, and cousins (and one of my cousin’s wife and 2 kids).
Well, that was the main gist of our adventure traveling west. Of course, there are probably things I left out and too many random adventures to name, but you now get the feel of the trip. Of
course anytime you travel west there are a few stereotypical western things you must see (and probably will have no choice but to see many of them!). We saw tumble weeds, bison & buffalo, dust/sand storms, cacti, dirt devils/whirlwinds, prairie dogs, windmills, oil pumps, deer and antelope (“…where the deeeer and the antelope plaaaaaaaay!!!!!!”), and of course a whole lot of nothing at times. :)
All in all, it was a very good trip and a great introduction to our new life in the west. When we arrived in Worland at our new home, there was a houseful of church folk there, waiting to help us unload the uhaul. With their help, the process didn’t take long at all. They’d also brou
ght house warming gifts and food to stock our cabinets and fridge (we got a “pounding”). It didn’t take us long to get our feet wet. We arrived on a Friday and we both took an active role in that Sunday morning service. It was a very good first Sunday at the church—they had their annual “Chakula Fest,” which is somewhat of a festival of nations and cultures—the songs were from other countries, the speakers spoke in other languages, and we had a huge meal with food from many other countries after the service. Our first weekend in Worland was filled with smiling faces and warm welcomes.
was an adventure! I’m beginning to think that marriage will prove to be one of the biggest adventures of my life—inwardly and outwardly. It’s already presented more challenges, learning experiences, and self-growth opportunities than I could have ever expected. It’s an adventure in long progress: an adventure of love—and not just the sappy stuff—learning to be more selfless, more patient, more self-controlled, more honest, more humble, and more loving in everyway for everything. Our capacities to love are stretching and growing constantly. It hasn’t been easy by any means, but most refining fires are not, and I think it will prove to be one of the most worthwhile experiences of our lives.
ody 1 John 4:11-12: “Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.”
