Since last night’s blog seemed to focus on Val’s misfortunes, let me spend tonight on Nick, my boy scout.

A little known fact is that in 1998 the National Scouting Museum was in Murray, Kentucky. If you think you will look that information up on line, don’t bother. The museum on the campus of Murray State University in western Kentucky opened in 1986, but was moved to its present location in Irving, Texas, in 2002.

An even less known fact is that on Sundays it didn’t open until 12:30. Which we didn’t know either, until we pulled up to the door at 9:10am on a Sunday and read the sign. Himey and I were disappointed, but were more worried about Nick. He’d been a boy scout for four years and his dream was to get his Eagle. I asked him if he wanted to wait around until it opened.

But being the polar opposite of a drama queen, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “whatever”.

As mentioned in last night’s blog, later that day he took the elevator up the Jefferson Davis Monument. He took some pictures from the top of us ants on the ground, but other than that didn’t return to us overly emotional.

At Mammoth Cave, however, he let out all the stops. Several months before our trip to Kentucky, I bought tickets for both the kids to take the Trog tour. It’s a spelunking experience designed especially for kids to get a taste of the off-the-trail cave, to feel what it would be like to be the first one to explore the cave.

We hadn’t told either Nick or Val about it until we got there and sprung it on them. They both did have a good time, and I don’t think Val even had a complaint when they came out all dusty and hot. I take that back, I think they both whined that the tour was over and we had to get going.

That night, we sprung another surprise on them. We stayed at the Wigwam Village. It is something right out of the 1940’s. The picture pretty much says it all.

My husband Himey hales from Crandon, where everyone is proud to say that they are “Kentucks”. Thus, in 1998, he thought it would be great fun to discover his roots and take a family vacation to Kentucky. Any time it requires getting in the car and leaving town, I am game for it.

The goal for the first day was a Motel 6 in Paducah, 648 miles from home. Our only interesting stop all day was in Illinois, just before crossing the river into Kentucky. That little town in Illinois would be none other than Metropolis, the home of Superman, or so the Chamber of Commerce would lead us to believe.

We drove down to Main Street to get our obligatory picture taken next to the giant Superman statue. Just prior to that, however, Val had a camera crisis and so refused to get out of the car. We all love Val to death, but if anyone is going to have a meltdown on any given day, it will be my daughter.

Val had several more misfortunes that trip. She left her brand-new shoes on the picnic table at a road side park. Later that day, at I believe a Pamida-type store, it took her 15 minutes to find another pair.

At the Jefferson Davis Monument, Nick got to take the elevator to the top, all by himself. For some strange reason – was she too short? – Val couldn’t go, so Himey and I waited in the park with her. She was not happy about that. “Why does Nick get to do everything?”

And at the Horse Park in Lexington, there was no food that she would eat. After the rest of us had finished our BBQ pork, potato salad and corn on the cob, Himey took her to the car for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

In the Travel Log, I documented two other times –“Val is bummed’ and “Val is already miserable” – but I don’t even remember what that was all about. Poor kid.

(Two years ago I wrote a devotional, The Christmas Story in 40 Days, describing the events leading up to the birth of Christ. For the next five weeks, I will share a passage from that book each week in my Sunday blog. I hope you enjoy – I will, as during this busy time of the year, I won’t have to write one each week! Have a blessed Christmas season. )

"The birth of Jesus took place like this. His mother, Mary, was engaged to be married to Joseph. Before they came to the marriage bed, Joseph discovered she was pregnant. (It was by the Holy Spirit, but he didn’t know that.) Joseph, chagrined but noble, determined to take care of things quietly so Mary would not be disgraced."

(Matthew 1:18-19, from The Message Bible)

In Biblical times, to be engaged to someone was as legally binding as being married. The only difference was that the couple was not yet living together, and thus, unlike many couples today, not having sex. Joseph’s only option, when he found out that Mary was pregnant, was to cancel the marriage contract and divorce her. He could do this publicly, which would mean the masses had the right to stone her. Or he could do it quietly, in front of only two witnesses, which would hopefully save Mary’s honor and her life.

Joseph had a lot to think about. When we are faced with difficulties, do we look at all possible solutions? Or do we just plunge in and do the first thing we think of? Next time you have a challenge to face, look at all your options before taking action. And most importantly, take time to pray.

Raise your hand if, when you were a kid, everyone fit around the dining room table for thanksgiving. If you raised your hand, I think you are in the minority. Most of the people I know put the young ones at a separate table – the kids’ table – because there is not enough room around the kitchen table. And if you had small rooms in your house, like the one where I grew up, the kids’ table wasn’t even in the same room.

I used to think, man, I can’t wait until I’m older so I can sit at the adult table and listen to adult talk. I remember joining the grown-ups for one year and quickly decided that the kids’ table was more fun. If the kids couldn’t be at the big table, I didn’t want to be either.

Ever since I was one of those kids, segregated to a different room whenever there was a large family gathering, I dreamed of having a dining room big enough to accommodate all the guests. One big table like they have in TV shows and on the Hallmark channel.

Well, I don’t have a dining room big enough. I can sit eight comfortably around my dining room table, and can put two more at the kitchen counter, a card table in the hallway. Not what I had pictured all those years ago.

Suddenly, about four years ago, I think, I had an epiphany. I don’t have a big enough dining room, but I have a big enough living room. It was only through the good-naturedness of my husband and my son, that every thanksgiving morning since then, the dining room table gets dragged into the living room, muscled through three doorways. Aunt Helen’s little side table with its amazing features pulls out to six feet. And the two tables combined comfortably fit as many people as I need it to. Chairs don’t match and some of the silverware has questionable origins (i.e. a dorm in Madison from the 1980s), but we are all at one table in one room. Not quite as pretty as TV, but it works for me.

Hope you had as blessed a thanksgiving as we did.

One Friday in June 1998, Pat and I decided to take a ride up north to the Porcupine Mountains. We took Val along for fun. We needed that.

I can think of three times when I stayed in a hotel room with my sister Pat. This trip. A swank hotel in Milwaukee with our parents for my cousin’s wedding in the 1970’s. And that dumpy hotel near the University of Wisconsin Hospitals, where we went for one last ditch effort at a cure for Pat’s cancer.


What am I thankful for this thanksgiving and every thanksgiving since 1999? That God gave me those 37 amazing years with my sister Pat. And the knowledge that some day we will go camping together again.

After Himey settled me down with the journal purchase, my next crisis occurred about four hours later. Several people had given us JCPenneys’ gift cards for the wedding and we thought we could get something with them on our way through Madison. About the time we were eating lunch at the Perkins in Marshfield, I realized I didn’t have the gift cards with me. The last time I remembered seeing them, they were with the stack of thank you cards. The stack I had dropped in the mail slot much earlier that day.

A frantic call to the post office turned out to be fruitless. All we could do was wait until we could call the kids after they got home from school and see if the gift cards had gotten left behind on the kitchen counter.

Several stops and many hours later we checked into the Lamb’ Inn in Richland Center. What a charming farmhouse and what an absolute sweetheart of a hostess. I had never stayed in a Bed and Breakfast before and it was a such treat, a wonderful experience. If you have never been to one either, it is something you need to try.

Bright and early the next morning we arrived at the House of the Rock. I have been there so many times before, but it just never gets boring. It is always a new adventure and was made even more so by being able to show it to Himey for the first time.

The southeast area of the state really has a lot of fascinating things to see. Dodgeville, Mineral Point, Mt Horeb, New Glaurus are all charming little towns with just enough tourist-ism to keep them interesting without being garish. (My barometer is that Wisconsin Dells and Las Vegas are garish.)

Grandview, on a hill just outside of Hollandale, was an unexpected surprise. In the 1930’s immigrant Nick Engelbert began creating concrete sculptures, not stopping until he had over 40 of the figures on his small farm. He even covered every square inch of his house with concrete embedded with pieces of glass, beads, buttons, and anything else he found lying around. What we call American Folk Art at its best.

(Oh, yes, and the $120 worth of Penney's gift cards were on the kitchen table when we got home, and we didn't spend them until a trek to Madison on February 6, 1998, but that is another trip.)

“Oh, shoot,” I said as we pulled the car up in front of the post office. “I forgot to bring along any paper so I can write about this weekend.”

“Well, you run in and mail the thank you cards, and I will run across the street and buy you a notebook.”

That would be why, on October 4, 1997, I had married that man. Himey was the friend of a friend. As soon as my divorce from Dan was final, a friend of mine told me that as soon as I was ready to date, she knew a guy who would be perfect for me. Well, no guy is perfect, as we all know, but Himey did turn out to be my soul-mate. And that is about as good as it gets.

That particular day, two weeks after the wedding, we were leaving town for a weekend honeymoon to southern Wisconsin. Himey ran across the street to the Ben Franklin and bought the most amazing book. “Project Planner” is inscribed in gold on the cover. He told the checkout at the store what the book was for and even the checkout agreed that it would be ideal.

So guess what? My main reference for the next twelve years’ worth of travels will be this perfect travel log. Unless it is pertinent to the particular trip, I will try not to bore you with the mileage or the money we spent, even though it is all documented. I’ll also try to skip some of the potty breaks and benign purchases we made along the way. But it is always hard to tell what I might find interesting on any individual journey.