{"id":12846,"date":"2014-08-29T18:13:38","date_gmt":"2014-08-29T22:13:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=12846"},"modified":"2014-08-29T18:13:38","modified_gmt":"2014-08-29T22:13:38","slug":"notes-from-the-open-road","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/?p=12846","title":{"rendered":"Notes From The Open Road…"},"content":{"rendered":"

photo-2-small.JPG<\/a><\/p>\n

Who owns the earth? Did we want the earth, that we should
\nwander on it? Did we need the earth, that we were never
\nstill upon it?<\/p>\n

—Thomas Wolfe
\n_________________<\/p>\n

There\u2019s only one way to take a road trip, the way I see it. Well, there might be more than one way, but there\u2019s only one best way. You take a road trip alone. You travel with no baggage of any kind but your own. That\u2019s how it\u2019s worked for me, anyway. You live alone. You walk alone. And you travel alone. <\/p>\n

I was feeling pretty relaxed about life, that Monday morning after the Great Bloomfield Amish Reunion. Well, mostly, anyway. I checked out of the Southfork Motel soon after eight. The nice desk lady smiled and we chatted. I\u2019m heading out, I told her. Heading to points south. She wished me well, and thanked me again for the book. She had asked about it, and I had sold her one the day before. I hope you enjoy it, I told her. She was sure she would. After gassing up the Charger at the Casey\u2019s down the street, I headed west on Highway 2 for Rt. 63 South. <\/p>\n

There\u2019s a huge trading post there now, by that intersection where 2 and 63 connect. Dutch Country General Store. And I mean, it\u2019s huge. Someone cranked out a lot of capital to make that happen. It seems strange, to see such a thing in that area. Don\u2019t seem like there\u2019s enough people living around there to support it. Not unless it becomes a tourist destination in and of itself. Which might happen. I hope it does. Anyway, the place is pretty breathtaking. Large signs line the road. Fresh Fruits and Vegetables. Bulk Foods. And the one that pulls in lots of passers-by, I suspect. Free Soft Ice Cream. I had checked out the place, the week before. It\u2019s just amazing what all they have in stock. Everything from groceries and meat to bulk foods to large stuffed animals. Trinkets, signs, you name it. I\u2019m pretty sure you\u2019ll find it there.<\/p>\n

And that morning, I stopped in as I was heading out. I wanted to talk to the proprietor, a very friendly young Holdeman Mennonite. I had chatted with him when I stopped in before. He knew my brother, Titus. And he claimed he occasionally checked out my blog.<\/p>\n

This morning, I wanted to do a bit of hawking, something I rarely do. I\u2019ve never pushed my book on anyone. Today I would. I walked in shyly, clutching a copy. He smiled when he saw me. And I showed it to him. This book happened right here, in the area, I said. I think you should stock it. I have some in my trunk. I\u2019ll sell you a few, if you want. He took it from me and looked at it curiously. I showed him the back cover. Right there. It happened in Bloomfield, Iowa. Right around you, here. I know they\u2019d sell. <\/p>\n

He smiled again. \u201cWe have to check out any reading material, before we sell it,\u201d he said. Great, I\u2019ll sign this copy and give it to you then, I replied. And if you decide to sell them, you can order direct from Tyndale. So that\u2019s what I did. He took it from me willingly enough. I\u2019m not sure what he\u2019ll think of it, or thinks of it by now. Or if he\u2019ll stock it. He may not want to offend his Amish customers. So who knows? But hey, I tried. I guarantee that book would sell in his store. Just thinking aloud, here. If any of you happen to pass through there, stop by and ask for it. A little pressure is always a good thing. <\/p>\n

And then it was off, down Rt. 63 South. Toward the Missouri line. I can\u2019t remember thinking about it right at that moment, but this was the same stretch of road where three scared and desperate boys rocketed along in an old green Dodge late one long-ago Sunday morning. Same road. Same scenery, just a little more built up. <\/p>\n

Into Missouri then, toward Kirksville. I dreaded that little slog, through that city. I remembered it had a hundred stop lights, or so it seemed. When I approached, though, there was a delightful surprise. A bypass, right around the east side of the city. It was pretty new. My GPS kept screaming at me to turn right onto side streets, to the old Rt. 63. I ignored it, and very shortly Kirksville was behind me as I headed on south. <\/p>\n

And I thought about it, as I drove along. The news we had heard last night, while I was out at Titus and Ruth\u2019s home for supper. I think my sister Rachel texted me. And I called her, and we talked. It was about Dad. He had attended the funeral of little Abby, the day before. They drove straight through, to get to Kalona from Aylmer. And soon after the funeral was over, that afternoon, they drove all the way back home, straight through. The next morning, Sunday, he was pretty tired. So he told Rosemary he wanted to stay home from church, and rest. Which was fine, but unheard of, such a thing coming from Dad. He used to drag us to church when we were more than half sick, years ago. So something was dreadfully wrong, for him to decide not to go. There had to be. And there was. When they returned that afternoon from church, they found him over there in his little Daudy house. On the floor, incoherent. Of course, everyone\u2019s first thought was that he\u2019d had a stroke. He was rushed to the hospital in Tillsonburg. And the diagnosis came back. I heard it that day, that Monday as I was driving along. No stroke. He has a severe infection in his leg. Good. No stroke. But still, he was in pretty bad shape.<\/p>\n

And it was almost more than an exhausted mind can take, to consider the loss of one more person in the family. No. Not now, Lord. Not now. We\u2019re all tired. Weary, beyond words. I\u2019m so weary of death and loss. And I\u2019m so weary of writing about it. Can\u2019t you just hold off, on calling my father home? And yet, I thought of the logistics. I was on the road. And I had my black suit and white shirt right with me. Funeral clothes, if I needed them. Whatever came, I would walk into it. That\u2019s all you can do. But still. Lord, please spare my father for a little while.
\n<\/em>
\nThe Charger cruised along into the beautiful sunny day. I-70 West for an hour or so, then south toward Springfield. Then off on little two lane highways, over toward Dunnegan. There\u2019s something unique and very calming about the Missouri countryside. You can tell it\u2019s Missouri land. Grass fields, kind of sparse and bleak. But it all seems so very laid back. Little towns sprout up, and you cruise slowly through them. Check out all the little stores on the square, half of which are boarded up. They once pulsed with life, those little towns. They once were worth building. Now they\u2019re barely hanging on, most of them. Barely worth maintaining. I guess it\u2019s some kind of symbol of some kind of cycle of life. But me, I\u2019d rather have been around those towns when they were alive. <\/p>\n

And I arrived at the ranch in Dunnegan, right at two o\u2019clock. They welcomed me, Elmer and Naomi. My good friends, from back home. They bought the eight hundred acre ranch a few years back. Their sons, Raymond and Allen live there. Raymond works full time with the cattle and sheep. Elmer and Naomi go out for a few weeks at a time, a few times a year. I had told them when I\u2019d be coming through, and it just happened that they had some business affairs going on about right then, at the ranch. So there they were, my friends from Lancaster, welcoming me to their sons\u2019 home in Missouri. <\/p>\n

After unpacking in the large spacious guest house, I went on a tour of the place. Elmer showed me around. Eight hundred acres is a lot of land. Miles of it, practically. There\u2019s lots of lanes and ponds and woods. And everything was so green. Usually the grass is brown in Missouri in July. Not this summer. They had an abnormal amount of rain, always coming down right at the right time. We went first to see the sheep. I have a particular soft spot for sheep; I used to raise a few back on the old home farm in Bloomfield. Raymond runs about four hundred \u201chair\u201d sheep, total, with the lambs that came this spring. He does the natural grazing thing, with electric fences that he moves every day or every few days. Then on to the cattle. Red Angus and another brand I don\u2019t remember. Cattle that can take the heat. Raymond grazes those the same way, moving the electric fence to new grasses every few days or so. <\/p>\n

That night, after supper, I did something I hadn\u2019t done in far too long. I went fishing. There was a pond across the pasture, with a dock. Elmer and I walked up, and we baited our hooks. I cast a line into the water for the first time in probably seven or eight years. And we just sat there and talked, two old friends. I think I caught one. Elmer caught half a dozen or so. We threw them all right back in. And as dusk settled around us, it was all so peaceful and country and quiet. And I thought to myself. It\u2019s been way too many years since I fished a pond at sunset. <\/p>\n

The next day, we just putzed around, running errands in town. And checking out the area. I could live in a place like this. I really could. We stopped by a little country flea market. It was so totally Missouri and so totally comfortable. Wandering through, poking at stuff laid out on tables. Chatting with the vendors. The day passed, and that evening a group of friends and family came around. Homemade pizza and salad, is what we had. It was all a good thing. <\/p>\n

The week was moving right along. The next morning, I left my friends. On then, to the next stop. My nephew, Andrew Yutzy, lives in the Warsaw, MO, area with his family. They had been at the reunion in Bloomfield. That\u2019s where Andrew was born. I had asked him. Mind if I stop by and see you for a day or so? He was adamant. Absolutely. We don\u2019t get much family company. Stop by, we\u2019ll hang out. And by late that Wednesday morning, I pulled into their little farm out in the country. <\/p>\n

I met all the family, and was welcomed. Andrew took me around the place. Lovely little farm, over a hundred acres, I think. That afternoon, we drove around the area, and he showed me around. Land that was for sale, a farm here, a little acreage there. I felt the same as I had back in Dunnegan. I could live here, back in the Midwest. I really could. And one day, I probably will. Thing is, I just don\u2019t know what there is to do for a living. If I could figure that out, I\u2019d be out there a lot sooner than later. <\/p>\n

It was pretty warm that afternoon. But Andrew insisted I would catch fish, if I wanted to, out by his pond close to the house. So we took lawn chairs out. The children came too. Andrew hooked up one of his rigs, and I started casting. Like I said, it was a real hot day, when fish don\u2019t usually bite much. His pond must have been swarming with hungry fish, because for over an hour, I pulled them out, one after another. And threw them right back in. Nine, ten inchers, little bass. But it was a lot of fun. <\/p>\n

We talked about the latest news about Dad, Andrew\u2019s grandpa. After one night at the hospital, he had insisted on going back home. So he was released, that Monday. It was a very poor decision. That night, he tossed and turned, and called out, delirious. And the next day, they rushed him back in. His leg had swollen to twice its normal size, and was dark red. Cellulitus. The doctors instantly hooked him up to IV medications and oxygen. And there for a day or so, he drifted off right into that gray area between life and death. He was still hanging on, when I was at Andrew\u2019s house. But we figured there was about a fifty\/fifty chance he\u2019d make it. <\/em><\/p>\n

Andrew had fired up the smoker, way earlier in the day. And he proudly served smoked brisket for supper, a delicious feast. His wife, Marnita, and the children all went off to Bible School at their church, then. The children were all excited and eager to go. Andrew and I hooked up his boat to his pickup, and went off to a nearby lake to do some more fishing. It was the first time I\u2019d ever done such a thing, I think. We pushed off, and Andrew headed a few miles to his favorite spots. We sat there and relaxed and cast in our lures. I caught one large Crappy. Andrew caught a bottom feeder of some sort. We just talked and caught up. About life, and how it goes. And how it is, sometimes. Andrew has a very nice little family. I look at that, and feel a twinge, now and then. I will never see, never experience such a thing. After dark, we headed home. The children were just going to bed. We sat around a bit with them. And then Andrew and I walked out to his pond and relaxed on the lawn chairs and just chilled. <\/p>\n

The next morning, after a scrumptious breakfast with the family, I was on the road by 9:30. Heading back east now. Next stop, May\u2019s Lick, Kentucky. My brother Joseph\u2019s home. I\u2019ve referred to it, but never explicitly told it, here on this blog. Because Joseph asked me not to. But now, he told me I could. The man has been seriously ill for about five years or so. Multiple Myeloma. A cancerous blood disease. A lot of people afflicted with it live for a good many years. You can manage it, if you\u2019re careful. Joseph has been very careful, but there\u2019s been more than a few times that he came just that close to leaving us. Earlier this spring, or maybe it was late winter, he got pneumonia. And it came within a hair\u2019s breadth of taking him. He barely pulled out. Which made it all the more of a miracle, that all of my family was gathered there in Aylmer when we buried Mom. <\/p>\n

And he tires easily, Joseph does. He has seen a lot, and suffered a lot. I had called him before leaving home. Told him I\u2019d like to stop by, on my way back home. He was very welcoming. So now, on this Thursday of my week on the road, I drove the Charger east. All day, around St. Louis and on through Indiana. And by 6:30 or so that night, I checked in at a Holiday Inn in Louisville. I love Holiday Inns, not the Express ones. The real old ones, because they always have a pub attached. You can check in and unpack, and walk down for some food and drink. And that\u2019s what I did that night. <\/p>\n

The next morning, I headed on east. Looked like I\u2019d arrive in May\u2019s Lick around eleven. I hadn\u2019t figured on the road construction, though, on those two-lane highways. I puttered and putzed around, through small town after small town. And shortly before noon, I arrived at my brother\u2019s place. <\/p>\n

His married daughter, Laura, and her husband and family live in the big home house, now. Joseph and Iva have moved over to the little attached house, where Dad and Mom used to live a few years back. I shook my brother\u2019s hand, and they all welcomed me. Lunch would be served soon. And Joseph and I just sat there and caught up. It\u2019s been a while since we\u2019ve had a real one on one conversation, face to face. <\/p>\n

He had a couple of funny stories to tell me. And we laughed together, about them. \u201cI\u2019ve been asked by about five different bishops about your Elmo Stoll stories,\u201d he said. \u201cThey ask. Are these stories true? And I tell them. My brother was fifteen years old, when he saw these things. Just a young boy. Reacting to a powerful leader.\u201d I laughed. What were their reactions? I asked. \u201cThey smiled and looked real wise,\u201d Joseph answered. I laughed some more. I tell you, I wrote it as it was, I said. Not that you or any of them will ever agree with what I wrote. But I did. I wrote it like it was. <\/p>\n

We visited about this and that. And soon, he told me another funny little story. He was talking to some plain Mennonite from right here in PA, recently. And the guy asked him. \u201cWas that your brother who wrote that book?\u201d Joseph shriveled a bit, then admitted that it was. \u201cWell,\u201d the plain Mennonite announced loudly. \u201cI read it, too. And I\u2019m sure never going to let any of my children read it.\u201d I sat there and roared. What did you say, then? I asked. Did you agree with him? Joseph just smiled sheepishly and refused to answer, but I\u2019m pretty sure he did. Which is totally fine. But I told him. You can\u2019t keep your children from reading a book, once they get older. And this guy won\u2019t be able to, either. The more he rages against my book, the more they\u2019ll want to read it. And one day, I think they will, or at least some of them will. But hey, whatever works. If he thinks he can control them like that, more power to him. <\/p>\n

We talked about Dad, too, and how it was going up in Aylmer. He was still in the hospital, there in Tillsonburg. The swelling had gone down, in his leg. I think they pulled him back from the edge, I said. And we talked about how close it had come. To us losing him that week. One of these days, and it won\u2019t be long, he\u2019s gonna leave us, I said. Joseph agreed.<\/em><\/p>\n

Laura and her sister, Rosanna, had prepared the noon meal. And we walked over to eat. It was a haystack meal. Delicious. Corn chips. Cooked ground burger. Shredded cheese, and all the other toppings. We loaded our plates, and sat at the table to eat. Talking and laughing all the while. <\/p>\n

And by three o\u2019clock, our visiting was done. Joseph had an appointment somewhere, to go to. And I needed to be moving on. I wanted to get some miles behind me, before stopping for the night. Because I didn\u2019t want that last stretch for home tomorrow to be too long.
\n*************************************************<\/p>\n

And last Saturday night, it came down. The Great Annual Ira Wagler Garage Party. I had invited more people than ever before. And almost all of them came. A few pulled out at the last minute, but they told me why. And that they\u2019d love to be here next year. I lugged home fifty sausages from Stoltzfus Meats. My friend Paul grilled them over charcoal. Usually, there\u2019s ten or a dozen left over. Not that night. After the last person had left, around midnight, there were five measly sausages in the pot. Almost, I had cut it too close. <\/p>\n

A huge feast showed up like magic, as people arrived. Dishes of this and that. Delicious stuff, all of it. We sat around, and ate and talked. Just like usual. Around 7:30, it started drizzling. I couldn\u2019t believe it. Rain hadn\u2019t been in the forecast. It was supposed to be clear. But then a funny thing happened. Everyone crowded inside. The Hi-Lo card game was going on over at the bar. I hovered, keeping an eye on it. And at one point, the pot reached heights never seen before in my garage. One of these years, a SWAT team is gonna raid my party. And because we were all inside, people stood around and sat around, real close to each other. And you had to talk to the person next to you, or it would have been rude. So overall, I think, the rain actually was a good thing. It stopped, after about an hour, and the lawn chairs were soon spread in a half circle outside again. <\/p>\n

My friend from Missouri didn\u2019t make it like he\u2019d promised, though. I was pretty disappointed. That\u2019s the one thing that\u2019ll always evoke a visceral reaction from me. If you tell me you\u2019ll be somewhere to get together, and then you back out. I don\u2019t know why. Must be some deep seed down there that triggers it, a seed that recoils at the slightest hint of rejection. If you tell me you\u2019re gonna be there, be there. And if I ever figure out that you never intended to show up, if I sense that you were always just pretending, I get pretty livid. Some of my father\u2019s rage bubbles and boils hard, down deep. Yeah, maybe I could use some counseling. But that\u2019s just the way it is. <\/p>\n

I contacted the friend I\u2019d never met, the one who had promised to show up. I thought we had an understanding, I told him. I even wrote on my blog that you were coming, trucking in all the way from Missouri. Bragged about it. He was extremely apologetic. And he had a very valid reason for not showing up. He was haying. All that rain they had out there all summer, all through July, that rain kept him from cutting his crop. He needed four straight days of drying weather when the ground was bone dry. And those four magical days aligned, the very week of my party. He had to make hay when the sun shone. And I fully understood that. I come from the farm. All right, I messaged him. You\u2019re still invited next year. I hope to see you then. But consider yourself on probation. If you don\u2019t make it next time, I\u2019ll have to rethink things.<\/p>\n

Dad was released from the hospital about a week after I got home. A very different man than he was when I last saw him only a few short weeks ago. He\u2019s bedridden, and a little befuddled in his mind. He can\u2019t walk. At one point, and maybe even still, they had to feed him. It was too much, for my sister Rosemary to worry about, to have him back in his little house. So her oldest daughter, Eunice, and her husband David, offered to take him in and care for him. They have a row of daughters. Lots of help. And so now, there Dad is, with the family of one of his granddaughters. <\/p>\n

And they told me a little story, from when Dad was in the hospital. One evening, as they were there with him, he saw a man across the room that slightly resembled me. And Dad took a notion in his head that it was me. So he told them. \u201cTell Ira to come over here. I want to talk to him. There he is. Tell him to come over.\u201d They tried to tell him it wasn\u2019t me. But he kept calling out my name. And he did it a time or two in his delirious states, too, when he didn\u2019t even know what he was saying. He called out my name from where he was. <\/p>\n

What do you do with that? Where can you take it, in your head and heart? How can you balance that out against all the pain and heartbreak and rejection of the past? I don\u2019t know. The man\u2019s writing days are over, I think. The thing that was dearest to his heart is gone, now. And I\u2019m thinking that one day pretty soon, over a weekend, I\u2019ll be driving up to see him, probably for the last time. I have a clear picture in my head of who he was, and how we spoke to each other the last time I saw him, there at Abby\u2019s funeral. And a clear memory in my heart. <\/p>\n

It\u2019s a beautiful picture in my head. And it’s a beautiful memory in my heart. I\u2019m not sure I want to ruin any of it. <\/p>\n

I guess I\u2019m in a strange kind of place. And I can\u2019t really explain it. But this is how it is. If he leaves before I get there, then so be it. And if he\u2019s there when I get there, then so be it, too. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Who owns the earth? Did we want the earth, that we should wander on it? Did we need the earth, that we were never still upon it? —Thomas Wolfe _________________ There\u2019s only one way to take a road trip, the way I see it. Well, there might be more than one way, but there\u2019s only […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12846","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12846","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12846"}],"version-history":[{"count":17,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12846\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12863,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12846\/revisions\/12863"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12846"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=12846"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.irawagler.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=12846"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}