It has been a nice autumn in Southern Wisconsin. But by mid-November the weather isn't so nice - cloudy, gray, often with a chilly drizzle. So with some long-standing obligations out of the way it's time to take a short break to the southwest. Checking on my adobe in old Mesilla is an excuse, as if I needed one. It's just plain time for a temporary change of scenery.
Ironically, as I head out of Monroe the weather is exactly the same as it was exactly 60 years ago, gray, drizzly, and chilly when I headed out of Monroe - to the Milwaukee Induction Center to initiate a three-year stint in the Marine Corps. That day and the succeeding days are indelibly etched in my mind - the rude introduction to the Corps and the beginning of another life.
But this time it's a more leisurely trip in my GMC, west across the Mississippi to Dubuque and southwest into Iowa corn country. The soybeans have long been harvested, and the corn more recently. On this dreary day the stubbles are a brownish gray, as if to match the gray sky.
South of Dubuque I take U.S. 151 turning southwest to Iowa Route 1. I prefer that route rather than going through Cedar Rapids. Route 1 goes through the cross roads burg of Martelle, then through Mt. Vernon, a small quaint college town on a hill. Then it's down to I-80. From there, it's west past Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa Hawkeyes who, assisted by their victory over the Badgers, will win the Big 10 west division. Some 100 miles later, it's Des Moines, then I-35 south.
It gets dark early this time of year, before I cross the Missouri line, and soon into Bethany. I usually take a detour to downtown Bethany and drive around its deteriorating courthouse square. It's depressing and shows what can happen to a neglected downtown, even with the advantage of being a county seat. It makes one really appreciate Monroe's thriving courthouse square and the effort that so many citizens and organizations have put into maintaining it.
But it's dark and I'll save the trip around Bethany's courthouse square for another time. Instead, I catch a bite to eat at a fast food joint. The less said about that, the better.
As I reach Kansas City, the drizzle turns into a driving rain. Driving through a city with the light glaring off wet streets can be challenging. But I have been through K.C. enough times that I know where I'm going. I'm soon into Kansas and the 100-mile stretch to Emporia, home of William Allen White, the famous newspaper editor who became known as the spokesman for Mid-America in the early 20th Century.
The next morning I catch a bite to eat, exit I-35 and on to Kansas Route 50. The weather is still gray and dreary. I usually take Route 150 across the Flint Hills, but as there is a detour, I go around, and catch U.S. 56 just west of the Flint Hills. The only color on this gray day is the emerging winter wheat - a deep, rich green, sort of like the Packers' jerseys. But let's not talk about them right now.
On the radio there is some chatter about snow in northwest Kansas and eastern Colorado. But I'm heading to southwest Kansas, so should be OK. At McPhereson I stop at one of my all-time favorite coffee shops, sit by the window, and watch the traffic and pedestrians pass by on Main Street. Ordinary people in a quiet but reasonably prosperous looking Midwest town, going about their ordinary activities - nothing exciting, just observing life in Mid-America, probably as it should be.
As I head west the sky begins to clear. At Great Bend, I stop into Dillon's Super Market and partake of their excellent salad bar - my nod to health - somewhat, anyway. As I head west again, the sky is clear. But there is an ominous looking cloud bank far to the west. That must be the same system that is causing snow in northwest Kansas.
I'm soon into the clouds, but that's not all bad. As U.S. 56 bends southwest, I would normally be looking into the sun this time of the afternoon. It is once again totally cloudy and gray as I reach Dodge City. Instead of bypassing it, I roll down Wyatt Earp Boulevard to Front Street. Earp is long gone, but his legend and the street named after him lives on.
From there, it's a series of small towns, each with a huge grain elevator alongside the highway. At Sublette, I turn left, leaving U.S. 56, and take the 50-mile stretch down to U.S. 54 to Liberal in the southwest corner of Kansas. I doubt that there are many liberals, political liberals that is, in Liberal. But at least the Liberal Republicans, Republicans in Liberal that is, had enough sense not to change the name of their town.
Liberal is home of the Wizard of Oz Museum. But that's for another day. It has long been dark as I cross into the Oklahoma Panhandle. The temperature has dropped some 20y degrees, and the wind has gotten stronger, very strong. I can feel it buffeting my GMC. And, whaddaya know - those are wet snow flakes blowing across my headlights.
The temperature is still above freezing, just barely, so no snow is accumulating on the road. I'm soon into Texas, Stratford, then Dalhart, then into New Mexico. The snow has stopped, but the wind persists. From the New Mexico line, it's the familiar route that I have taken many times, through Logan, and into Tucumcari where I have called Kathryn and Michael to have a room ready for me at the Route 66 Motel.
Maybe tomorrow, we'll get some sunshine.
- John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears Fridays in The Monroe Times.
Ironically, as I head out of Monroe the weather is exactly the same as it was exactly 60 years ago, gray, drizzly, and chilly when I headed out of Monroe - to the Milwaukee Induction Center to initiate a three-year stint in the Marine Corps. That day and the succeeding days are indelibly etched in my mind - the rude introduction to the Corps and the beginning of another life.
But this time it's a more leisurely trip in my GMC, west across the Mississippi to Dubuque and southwest into Iowa corn country. The soybeans have long been harvested, and the corn more recently. On this dreary day the stubbles are a brownish gray, as if to match the gray sky.
South of Dubuque I take U.S. 151 turning southwest to Iowa Route 1. I prefer that route rather than going through Cedar Rapids. Route 1 goes through the cross roads burg of Martelle, then through Mt. Vernon, a small quaint college town on a hill. Then it's down to I-80. From there, it's west past Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa Hawkeyes who, assisted by their victory over the Badgers, will win the Big 10 west division. Some 100 miles later, it's Des Moines, then I-35 south.
It gets dark early this time of year, before I cross the Missouri line, and soon into Bethany. I usually take a detour to downtown Bethany and drive around its deteriorating courthouse square. It's depressing and shows what can happen to a neglected downtown, even with the advantage of being a county seat. It makes one really appreciate Monroe's thriving courthouse square and the effort that so many citizens and organizations have put into maintaining it.
But it's dark and I'll save the trip around Bethany's courthouse square for another time. Instead, I catch a bite to eat at a fast food joint. The less said about that, the better.
As I reach Kansas City, the drizzle turns into a driving rain. Driving through a city with the light glaring off wet streets can be challenging. But I have been through K.C. enough times that I know where I'm going. I'm soon into Kansas and the 100-mile stretch to Emporia, home of William Allen White, the famous newspaper editor who became known as the spokesman for Mid-America in the early 20th Century.
The next morning I catch a bite to eat, exit I-35 and on to Kansas Route 50. The weather is still gray and dreary. I usually take Route 150 across the Flint Hills, but as there is a detour, I go around, and catch U.S. 56 just west of the Flint Hills. The only color on this gray day is the emerging winter wheat - a deep, rich green, sort of like the Packers' jerseys. But let's not talk about them right now.
On the radio there is some chatter about snow in northwest Kansas and eastern Colorado. But I'm heading to southwest Kansas, so should be OK. At McPhereson I stop at one of my all-time favorite coffee shops, sit by the window, and watch the traffic and pedestrians pass by on Main Street. Ordinary people in a quiet but reasonably prosperous looking Midwest town, going about their ordinary activities - nothing exciting, just observing life in Mid-America, probably as it should be.
As I head west the sky begins to clear. At Great Bend, I stop into Dillon's Super Market and partake of their excellent salad bar - my nod to health - somewhat, anyway. As I head west again, the sky is clear. But there is an ominous looking cloud bank far to the west. That must be the same system that is causing snow in northwest Kansas.
I'm soon into the clouds, but that's not all bad. As U.S. 56 bends southwest, I would normally be looking into the sun this time of the afternoon. It is once again totally cloudy and gray as I reach Dodge City. Instead of bypassing it, I roll down Wyatt Earp Boulevard to Front Street. Earp is long gone, but his legend and the street named after him lives on.
From there, it's a series of small towns, each with a huge grain elevator alongside the highway. At Sublette, I turn left, leaving U.S. 56, and take the 50-mile stretch down to U.S. 54 to Liberal in the southwest corner of Kansas. I doubt that there are many liberals, political liberals that is, in Liberal. But at least the Liberal Republicans, Republicans in Liberal that is, had enough sense not to change the name of their town.
Liberal is home of the Wizard of Oz Museum. But that's for another day. It has long been dark as I cross into the Oklahoma Panhandle. The temperature has dropped some 20y degrees, and the wind has gotten stronger, very strong. I can feel it buffeting my GMC. And, whaddaya know - those are wet snow flakes blowing across my headlights.
The temperature is still above freezing, just barely, so no snow is accumulating on the road. I'm soon into Texas, Stratford, then Dalhart, then into New Mexico. The snow has stopped, but the wind persists. From the New Mexico line, it's the familiar route that I have taken many times, through Logan, and into Tucumcari where I have called Kathryn and Michael to have a room ready for me at the Route 66 Motel.
Maybe tomorrow, we'll get some sunshine.
- John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears Fridays in The Monroe Times.
