I had been yearning for one of my periodic New Mexico junkets for some time. Now that Cheese Days are over and Bobbie and I have several weeks between accordion gigs, it's time to hit the road.
As usual, I toss some gear - not very much - into my GMC. Instead of heading west across the Mississippi, I head south, past Freeport and Rockford to the big city, Chicago. Son Johnny wants to head across the Great Plains with me. Ever since he was old enough to comprehend it, he and I have taken periodic trips across the country. He has always enjoyed the history and changing landscape as we roll across the country as much as I do. The small towns, seeing how people make their livings - it's more interesting than just flying across it at 30,000 feet. He's a financial writer, not an economist, but it still has to do with economics. Since he's half Swiss, it probably runs in the genes.
I reach Chicago and wind my way through its eternal road construction - probably a sign of economic vitality. When I get near the lake, close to his apartment, he guides me by phone through those narrow streets near Wrigley Field.
The Cubs - fortunately there's no game as I make a half circle around that hallowed ball park. As always, there is a lot of activity going on around there. Of course the whole north side of Chicago is going nuts as the Cubbies make the playoffs again this year. When that new manager came in last year, you could almost sense that something was in the air just by listening to WBBM radio. It was as if something changed even before he donned a Cubs uniform for the first time.
Incredibly, the Cubs are said to be the best team in baseball. But there are still the playoffs and they are still the Cubs. So who knows? What will it be like if the Cubs become winners instead of perpetual lovable losers?
In a few more blocks I get to the kid's apartment. After a minor delay, he throws some gear into the GMC. I'm glad to turn the driving over to him to get out of here this time of day.
He has a way of getting through Chicago, even during rush hour. We head downtown along the lake. The strong north wind is whipping up the waves, making the lake look formidable and dangerous. We crawl among the skyscrapers, and suddenly head underground to a road I never knew existed. It has double lanes going west with no stop signs. It works well until it merges into one lane - construction again. But we finally emerge near the west side of Chicago. I'm glad he's doing the driving. At long last, we reach the west suburbs.
We had planned to take U.S. 30, the historic Lincoln Highway, across northern Illinois to the Quad Cities. But as we were under a time constraint, we take the coward's way out and take the less interesting I-88. But as it's getting dark, we would not be able to see much anyway.
We reach DeKalb, home of Northern Illinois University and Northern Illinois Public Radio to which I contribute a few bucks every year. The signal from NIU is as strong in Monroe as Wisconsin Public Radio's out of Madison. And since they have some programs that WPR doesn't, I contribute to both.
We soon reach Rochelle, continue on through late evening across Illinois, and reach the Quad Cities. We cross the Mississippi, and take I-80 to Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa and the Hawkeyes. Then it's on to Des Moines. I'm not a fan of I-80 with its heavy truck traffic. But under the circumstances, it's the most practical route from where we left.
At Des Moines, we take I-35 south to Missouri, reach Bethany in the northwest corner of the state, and stop for the night. The next morning dawns bright and sunny, with crisp, cool temperatures. Before leaving Bethany, we go several blocks off the Interstate and drive around the Harrison County courthouse Square. It looks as dismal and forlorn as ever except that there are an unusual number of vehicles parked around the courthouse. But no people on the streets. Maybe there's a big court case going on - who knows. A brief drive around that deteriorating downtown square makes one appreciate the beauty and prosperity of Monroe's Green County courthouse square - absolutely no comparison.
We wave good bye to Bethany's sad courthouse square and head south on I-35 to Kansas City. We get through KC easily enough to Kansas and head to Emporia where we leave the Interstate. We take U.S. 50 west to state route 150. Then it's across the Flint Hills, a rich grazing area of Kansas. In summer, the grass is a lush blue-green. In late September it is a sea of auburn and brownish grass. Herds of cattle, mostly Black Angus, are contentedly grazing near the numerous water ponds. Occasional corrals are visible near the highway, evidence that these are working cattle outfits.
Once across the Flint Hills, the land is again flat. The wheat had been harvested in June. As very few of the fields have been prepared for planting the next crop of winter wheat, the remaining stubbles are a colorless gray. Fields of sorghum appear ready to be harvested, and we see some combines rolling through the fields.
At McPherson, a prosperous looking small town, we stop at one of my favorite coffee shops for a while. Then its west on U.S. 56 to Great Bend. It's a ritual to stop at Dillon's Supermarket where they have a great salad bar. It makes sense to try and eat healthy, at least a little bit, while on these junkets.
Next week: On to Tucumcari.
- John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears Fridays in The Monroe Times.
As usual, I toss some gear - not very much - into my GMC. Instead of heading west across the Mississippi, I head south, past Freeport and Rockford to the big city, Chicago. Son Johnny wants to head across the Great Plains with me. Ever since he was old enough to comprehend it, he and I have taken periodic trips across the country. He has always enjoyed the history and changing landscape as we roll across the country as much as I do. The small towns, seeing how people make their livings - it's more interesting than just flying across it at 30,000 feet. He's a financial writer, not an economist, but it still has to do with economics. Since he's half Swiss, it probably runs in the genes.
I reach Chicago and wind my way through its eternal road construction - probably a sign of economic vitality. When I get near the lake, close to his apartment, he guides me by phone through those narrow streets near Wrigley Field.
The Cubs - fortunately there's no game as I make a half circle around that hallowed ball park. As always, there is a lot of activity going on around there. Of course the whole north side of Chicago is going nuts as the Cubbies make the playoffs again this year. When that new manager came in last year, you could almost sense that something was in the air just by listening to WBBM radio. It was as if something changed even before he donned a Cubs uniform for the first time.
Incredibly, the Cubs are said to be the best team in baseball. But there are still the playoffs and they are still the Cubs. So who knows? What will it be like if the Cubs become winners instead of perpetual lovable losers?
In a few more blocks I get to the kid's apartment. After a minor delay, he throws some gear into the GMC. I'm glad to turn the driving over to him to get out of here this time of day.
He has a way of getting through Chicago, even during rush hour. We head downtown along the lake. The strong north wind is whipping up the waves, making the lake look formidable and dangerous. We crawl among the skyscrapers, and suddenly head underground to a road I never knew existed. It has double lanes going west with no stop signs. It works well until it merges into one lane - construction again. But we finally emerge near the west side of Chicago. I'm glad he's doing the driving. At long last, we reach the west suburbs.
We had planned to take U.S. 30, the historic Lincoln Highway, across northern Illinois to the Quad Cities. But as we were under a time constraint, we take the coward's way out and take the less interesting I-88. But as it's getting dark, we would not be able to see much anyway.
We reach DeKalb, home of Northern Illinois University and Northern Illinois Public Radio to which I contribute a few bucks every year. The signal from NIU is as strong in Monroe as Wisconsin Public Radio's out of Madison. And since they have some programs that WPR doesn't, I contribute to both.
We soon reach Rochelle, continue on through late evening across Illinois, and reach the Quad Cities. We cross the Mississippi, and take I-80 to Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa and the Hawkeyes. Then it's on to Des Moines. I'm not a fan of I-80 with its heavy truck traffic. But under the circumstances, it's the most practical route from where we left.
At Des Moines, we take I-35 south to Missouri, reach Bethany in the northwest corner of the state, and stop for the night. The next morning dawns bright and sunny, with crisp, cool temperatures. Before leaving Bethany, we go several blocks off the Interstate and drive around the Harrison County courthouse Square. It looks as dismal and forlorn as ever except that there are an unusual number of vehicles parked around the courthouse. But no people on the streets. Maybe there's a big court case going on - who knows. A brief drive around that deteriorating downtown square makes one appreciate the beauty and prosperity of Monroe's Green County courthouse square - absolutely no comparison.
We wave good bye to Bethany's sad courthouse square and head south on I-35 to Kansas City. We get through KC easily enough to Kansas and head to Emporia where we leave the Interstate. We take U.S. 50 west to state route 150. Then it's across the Flint Hills, a rich grazing area of Kansas. In summer, the grass is a lush blue-green. In late September it is a sea of auburn and brownish grass. Herds of cattle, mostly Black Angus, are contentedly grazing near the numerous water ponds. Occasional corrals are visible near the highway, evidence that these are working cattle outfits.
Once across the Flint Hills, the land is again flat. The wheat had been harvested in June. As very few of the fields have been prepared for planting the next crop of winter wheat, the remaining stubbles are a colorless gray. Fields of sorghum appear ready to be harvested, and we see some combines rolling through the fields.
At McPherson, a prosperous looking small town, we stop at one of my favorite coffee shops for a while. Then its west on U.S. 56 to Great Bend. It's a ritual to stop at Dillon's Supermarket where they have a great salad bar. It makes sense to try and eat healthy, at least a little bit, while on these junkets.
Next week: On to Tucumcari.
- John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears Fridays in The Monroe Times.
