Little House in the Middle of a Road Trip

I am not at all exaggerating when I say I had chills up and down my spine and that I had to blink back tears when I stood in the middle of Laura Ingalls Wilder's (LIW) farmhouse kitchen.  How I ended up browbeating a docent to get me in there and why I reacted like a total fangirl is a long story.

I was here!!!

Once upon a time there was a young girl who grew up in the late 70's and 80's.  They did not have cable TV or iPods or video games back then so she played outside and read a lot of books for fun.  Yes, for fun.  One of the first chapter books she picked out for herself was "Little House on the Prairie".  She chose it because it was big and because it still had pictures in it.  Once she cracked open the spine and started reading about the Ingalls family, she was hooked. She wanted to be Laura and she wanted to travel in a covered wagon across the prairie and listen to Pa play his fiddle at night.  She soon read all the books in succession and a favorite game of hers to play was "Long Winter".  She would stockpile pine cones and helicopter seeds on the front porch to make sure they would survive until the train could get through.  She made her friends join and take turns playing Mary or Carrie or Grace, but never Laura.  She was Laura.  She had brown hair she wished was golden like Laura.  She had a perfect older sister(s) like Laura, and she was trouble, just like Laura.

This girl exclaimed when prairie style was in fashion and happily wore ruffled shirts and calico skirts.  She dressed up as LIW for Halloween and just about every day after school, again, for fun.

Perfectly dressed as LIW for a combo birthday/Halloween party

Even as a child she scoffed at those who thought they knew LIW from the TV show.  Ha!  Mere amateurs in LIW facts and knowledge.  Wonder why you don't remember reading about Albert and his heroin addiction in the books?  Oh, I don't know, maybe because there was NO Albert and they weren't shooting heroin on the plains.  Drinking laudanum perhaps, but there weren't a whole lot of syringes lying around on the homestead back then.

Slowly prairie style clothes made way for shoulder pads and Madonna inspired fashion and little girls grow up and play at being a teenager instead of pioneer girls.  And while this little girl stopped dressing as LIW, she never did outgrow her fascination for her.  She read everything LIW wrote as well and everything she could find written about her.  Obsession?  No, because it is not creepy.  Weird fascination?  Agreed.

So now our little girl is grown up and traveling thousands of miles cross country with two captive children and the LIW homestead in Mansfield, MO almost on their direct route.  Absolutely they are going.  And when they stop and she sees the sign proclaiming "Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum and Home" her heart is POUNDING.  It is all she can do to not fall to her knees and weep but she has already embarrassed her children by bringing them here and she doesn't want to scare the other tourists.  They head into the museum and what is the first thing she sees?  PA'S FIDDLE!  Right there, dead center!  She throws money at the women for their admission and runs, truly runs, to the fiddle and presses her nose against the glass case.  PA's FIDDLE!  Her oldest child takes in the crazy and quickly steers the younger one away.  But wait, she is not done exclaiming and oohing and shaking because there is PA's BIG GREEN BOOK OF ANIMALS!!  And a dress that LIW MADE AND WORE?!  She is torn between running amok and staring entirely too long at each piece of memorabilia.

Now her daughter insists that she browbeat the docent into giving them a tour of the house, but all she will admit to is staring entirely too long at the woman until everyone was uncomfortable and the docent finally agreed to getting up and opening the farmhouse for them.  This docent only has the BEST job in the world and she was ruining it by not being dressed in pioneer clothes.  I forgave her as she unlocked the door and let me into the place where my childhood idol cooked and ate.

So there I was in Laura's house.  And it was tiny and old and perfect.  The docent rattled off stories about LIW but I knew them all.  Counters low?  Yep, LIW was tiny.  Windows by the place she made bread? Yep, LIW hated kneading dough and would look out windows.  Puh-lease!  Tell me something I don't know.  She never did; crazy fangirl knew all the stories.

We went through the house and saw all the rooms except upstairs as it was roped off with the typical fascist velvet ropes that come with American history.  Personally I think that as a history major I should be allowed access behind all velvet ropes.  I won't touch, I just want to look.  Even though not being allowed upstairs was disappointing, somehow standing in LIW's house filled up a part of my childhood soul.  I stood where Laura stood!  I looked out Laura's windows!  I smiled ear to ear with complete and utter happiness and my children seized on my lunacy and we hit up the giftshop.  Twig pencils?  Yes, need them.  Postcards?  All.  Dr. Peppers?  Yes and all around.  Bonnets?  I was tempted but only because I have reached the age I really should wear a hat in the sun.

I remember being sad as a kid when I learned that LIW was dead and I couldn't write to her about how much I loved her books and how they gave me a place to escape to.  Pretending to be LIW took up so much of my childhood that it was truly, truly thrilling to see the things she wrote about, the things I pretended I owned or endured. I do not think that the thrill extended to my children though.  They were good sports but the boy said he enjoyed the Dr. Pepper the best.  SG's eyes light up when she retells the story of how I browbeat the docent into giving us the tour. I just think I was embodying LIW's feisty spirit and showing my kids how a woman can be strong and purposeful.  And demanding.  I can't wait until I figure out a way to get us all into South Dakota and make a side trip to De Smet to see another of Laura's house.  I will write ahead and warn the docents that I don't give a fig about their scheduled tours, they are letting me in.

And I Will Drive 1,547 Miles and Bill Will Drive 2,134 More

I was trying to be quippy coming up with this title and I think the quip is on me.  I knew I was planning a long road trip.  I knew that those states we click through and those places we visit will be far apart from each other, but 1,547 miles as the only driver plus an additional 2,134 miles to get into Canada and then all the way back home has me gasping for air.  GASP.  I doubt I have ever tried to figure out how many miles it is when we drive and I will never do it again. 

Just keep driving, just keep driving.

We always drive.  Having five people to get from Point A to Point B is expensive and a road trip is generally the most economical choice.  We have driven back and forth from Texas to Buffalo so many times I don't remember the last time we even used a map.  The craziest part?  We usually drive straight through.  Twenty four hours door to door and the McMahons stop for food and bathrooms but never to stay the night.  We have had luxurious trips in vans and in a Durango.  We once drove with three small kids and two car seats in a Saab.  That was not a bad trip.  The Saab is a piece of good Swedish engineering and my packing for that trip was a piece of good German upbringing: organized, functional and rotated at each stop. Our worst road trip ever, EVER, was in the Jeep Wrangler.  Three kids, Bill and I and one dog shook our way from Texas to NY and back. SG and I both had panic attacks at separate times from being shaken across state lines and Bill had to scare off a menacing man at a gas station in Nowhere, TN at two a.m. with a lighter and the nozzle from a gas pump.  "Step away or I'll light it" is not something you should ever wake up to.

Our kids are road trip warriors.  We have even made this trip more than once with no video.  NO video! (I am no purist; usually it was because of technology problems.)  They survived.  They looked out the window and enjoyed the interstate/were bored to death.  I will admit that we have an entire bag devoted to technology this trip.  They are bigger and whine louder now.  They know that everyone attempts to use the bathroom at each stop whether they think that have to go or not.  Mandatory bathroom usage at each stop is a given.  They know we are weak on road trips and buy all kinds of garbage that they never eat at home.  Pop-Tarts and Swedish Fish anyone?

Bill and I are pros at this as well.  We know that all the good snacks will be eaten before we even get out of Texas.  In fact, one of them will be rummaging in the snack bag before we even back out of the driveway.  We know that at least one child will lose a shoe under the carnage of road trip entertainment at every stop.  I believe that there is a wanted poster of me at a Cracker Barrel outside Memphis for giving up and taking a shoe-less baby W in on a rainy night.  Every woman in that place yelled at me.  You try and find a teeny tiny shoe under hours of discarded toys and food wrappers.  We know that for children doing nothing but sitting for hours, their feet will smell up the entire car.  We know where to stop and not stop, we know Bill will drive all but an hour or so and I know he is fake sleeping for that hour just so I let him drive again.

This year we are changing it up a little and I am nervous/excited.  SG, the boy and I are heading out a week early and making a circuitous trip north.  First Tulsa to visit a friend and then onto Mansfield, MO to see the LAURA INGALLS WILDER MUSEUM!!!!! I would talk about how excited I am about that, but I can't as it would fill a whole blog itself.  After MO, we are back on the road to get to Gurnee, IL to see my sister.  A few days with her and then we are headed to Buffalo.  Bill and Maizy will fly up and meet us there and then all five of us head to Canada.  Whew!  Crazy right? Yes.  Total insanity that I can't wait to begin!

Oh, did I mention the bulk of this trip will be done in a Prius?  Why?  Well because that is what we own and if it costs me $100 to put gas in between here and Buffalo, that will be a lot.  Yes, it is a small car.  

No, it does not come with clowns.

Yes, its pick-up is lackluster.  Yes, I often think that others view the color of our car as invisible instead of black.  Really, it is not a McMahon road trip if we all don't suffer just a little and what better way to suffer than a tiny car and not-so-tiny kids?  Our kids have it easy: they don't have to walk to school, they don't have to adjust rabbit ears to watch TV, they don't know what a busy signal is and they won't even know the excruciating pain of waiting for their sibling to get off the phone because they are waiting for a call. We are helping them build character with these trips.  Either that or we are ensuring they make good career choices and can fly anywhere they want when they are the grownups.  Win - win, right?

Yankee Doodle Dandy

I love the Fourth of July.  It ranks third in my list of favorite holidays.  I like that it is not celebrating the fact that I am aging like birthdays do. I like that I don't have to buy presents for anyone.  I like that if people are getting together that it is for BBQ or picnic or easy food with little fuss.  I like that people take time to make red, white and blue desserts.  

BOOM!

Small town America does the 4th right: parades, carnie rides and fireworks.  My hometown of Lancaster, NY does the 4th especially right: parade, carnie rides, fireworks AND beer tent!  Beer tent!  Outside bar with all of your family (minus kids) and people you knew in high school?  Yes.  Who cares if the beer is some sort of Genesee draft and you will pay for it tomorrow? It is the 4th and it is a beer tent!

My BFF in high school lived where we could walk to the parade, where we could walk to downtown and her house was abuzz every year on the 4th.  Her house was packed with family, friends, and acquaintances streaming in and out as they came from the festivities.  I always loved being included in that random assortment of people; tolerated as a younger teenager and included as a young adult.  It was generally the highlight of my summer.

We have been home a few times on the 4th so my kids can experience it and it is fun to watch their excitement and see how it mirrors the memories of my own.  They line up with their cousins on the street and wait for the fire trucks to throw penny candy at them.  They clap for the bands and wave at the politicians in convertibles and yell for them to throw more candy.  They are hot and sticky and drink sugary drinks and chase them with Popsicles and mouthfuls of candy.  They are excited and hyper but they can play outside all day because while it is hot, it is not 100+ hot and there is a garden hose to drink from or spray them with.

I made myself sad on 4ths in the past trying to find somewhere to recreate my small town experience.  Now I just appreciate the day for what it is; an extra day off for those that work and a reason to celebrate on a weekday for those home for the summer.  It is getting together with friends and being relaxed and easy about it when you do.  Maybe some swimming, maybe some hot dogs (tofu dogs), and maybe some sparklers as we wait for the fireworks to start.  


The other thing I realized when I stopped trying to make every 4th like the ones growing up is that the 4th is one day where it is okay to be an American.  It is one day where we wear our red, white and blue and do it with gusto.   We are not encouraged to be proud of being Americans anymore.  The world laughs and tells us that we suck at math and science. We dig through the facts we learned in history class and realize that America was actually home to a lot of misogyny, racism and genocide.  Ouch.  We forget that it is okay to be proud of the town you live in even when your sports team isn't the winner.  I can't say that is true for the state because I live in Texas and by God, this state has enough pride for ten other states at well.  I watch kids mumble through the Pledge of Allegiance or Olympic athletes forget the words to the national anthem 1/3 of the way in and think it is normal.  Until the 4th.  Until we all remember that we are Americans!  And it is not about the rich, white men who signed the Declaration of Independence.  It is about our grandparents who came through Ellis Island with a few dollars in their pocket and a few words of English.  Men and women who were so happy to be in America that they forbid their own children to learn Italian, or German or Polish.  It is about the people today crossing deserts and open oceans and risking their life on the belief that it will be better in America.  It might not, but it is the idea, that belief, that optimism that we celebrate on the 4th.  That one day where we remember what it is to be proud of the place we call home.   One day when we let our lives be part of something bigger than our own agendas and feel part of something around us.  One day when we truly believe that we are "one nation, under God" and don't think about who we are offending when we think it.  Give me an old man removing his baseball cap and placing it over his heart when he hears the tinny sound of "The Star Spangled Banner" start playing and I will give you misty eyes.  Add a small boy who copies that move and I will give you leaky tears for sure. And I know I won't be the only one.

I am not sure what our plans are exactly for tomorrow.   I plan on wearing some red, white and blue and braving some crowds and being surrounded by Americana.  I will watch toddlers melt down in red-faced tantrums and listen to my own kids beg for Sno-Cones and lemonade and offer them my warm water bottle instead.  I will watch families fight to park and fight over who carries what over to watch fireworks.  I will think it is way too hot for humans to be outside and slap mosquitoes in annoyance. Dusk will find us crashing our friend's well-stocked picnic and sitting on blankets by too many other people.  But that is okay because we are all proud to be Americans today and the Americana music will start and it will get dark and fireworks will explode and people will ooh and ahh with contentment.   I will watch the fireworks reflected in my kids' wide and happy eyes and think that once again, this is the highlight of my summer.