Redskins

One of the benefits of blogging is that one spends a fair amount of time reading other bloggers. Sometimes, I even have my horizons expanded by reading different points of view. Which brings me to this:

We've surely all heard about the uproar about the usage of "derogatory Indian names" for sports teams and in particular the Washington Redskins have been singled out, mostly because of the rather politically incorrect comments the owner has made in the past.

Well, it just so happens that over the years I've counted a fellow blogger named Ron as a friend. He happens to be full blooded Choctaw, and is rightfully and damned proud of his heritage, and is heavily involved in the dealings of his tribe both spiritually and politically. His blog is called "The Local Malcontent" and he is based out of the Talihina, OK area. In the mountains.

At any rate, he has some very strong opinions on this subject and expresses himself quite well in this rant. I very strongly recommend you go and read the whole thing, as they say, because I suspect his position is not quite what one might expect when one listens to the limousine liberals stirring the pot.

I'm serious. Go and read!!!!

This is My Kansas

This is my Kansas from Scott Bean on Vimeo.

It is my Kansas as well. As a rather good photographer, Scott Bean has an eye for the natural beauties and wonders that are contained within our state.

From his website:

I have to say something about where I take photographs, my home state of Kansas. Many people think that Kansas is simply one large, flat wheat field. Certainly wheat is important to Kansas and wheat fields hold their own beauty, especially with a gentle breeze blowing across them right before harvest. But that is not everything that Kansas has to offer. Kansas actually has many diverse landscapes across the state. And as for flat, well most of Kansas is not that flat. I’ve now lived in the Flint Hills longer than any other area of Kansas and I’m constantly stunned by the beauty of this area. If you haven’t experienced the different landscapes of Kansas then you are missing out on something special.

I know it is cliche, but I sincerely hope my images will inspire you to "stop and smell the roses." We are surrounded by beauty but seem to rarely take time to notice it. If we aren't careful it is going to be gone before we know it. I can be so attuned to the light and shapes, texture, and colors when I'm out photographing and feel so alive...only to be lost in the noise of our ever increasingly complex world when I return after a session of shooting. I hope you can find some time to get away from the rat race with me and enjoy these photographs.

He has plenty of other photos on his site as well. Worth a look.

Scott Bean does have an advantage living in the Flint Hills - that is probably the most scenic of all the areas in Kansas.

But I still love my prairie, and while we don't have much in the way of waterfalls around here, we do have a lot of deep creek channels cut over the centuries through layers of limestone bedrock, creating imposing structures lording it over the valley below. The varied flora, fauna and wildlife are an integral part of that tapestry. The open vistas of the flat prairie expose much of the more interesting features, and yet, headed across said flat expanse will uncover a hidden valley, surprising in it's mere existence.

Well, anyways, I hope you enjoy his pics as much as I did.

H/T Jade DeGood

I've Got Yer Ghost Town Right Here

I was on my way to Ravanna, which is one of the closer ghost towns around here and I saw these bulls talking to each other, and this meme popped up in the ol' noggin. The one closest to me on the right was kicking dirt while I was digging the camera out, and after I put it back up.

I guarantee you that conversation wasn't particularly friendly. They like to "fight" a lot at times, which is mostly just pushing and shoving, snorting, tossing of heads, and dirt kicking. Yet somehow things get bent, fences are torn down and other maintenance headaches happen during these events.

Both pastures had plenty of cows and calves further away from the road, and I guarantee you they noticed me with the loud pipes. But, they all just watched me drive by. Ravanna is straight ahead.

One of the very few buildings left - and it's built from limestone rock. Same stuff they used for fenceposts.

There are a lot of these remains of buildings - just a mound littered with limestone chunks.

I think this is the graveyard. 

A big mound across the road from the courthouse.

The courthouse sat well off the main road, with building remains in the foreground.

Better shot of the courthouse.

The last time I was here was back when I was a teenager. Dad and I drove by while he was scouting out some spots to hunt deer. In my mind's eye, the graveyard was a lot further south, but where I thought it was - well, it was just pasture there and not a clue. I also thought the old Finney County State Lake was due west, but I went that way and it is not - I'm thinking it is to the east. The lake dried out years ago, and is just a large flat depression full of prairie grass and other growth. That was what Dad was scouting, as I recall.

That courthouse hasn't really changed in the forty odd years since last I saw it. I can remember more substantial walls, and I remember Dad saying people had been carrying it off as souvenirs. I think some people were caught and prosecuted, and that crap stopped. Plus, some high school pranksters (seven or eight years older than me) got caught digging up some Civil War veteran in the graveyard. They had taken some of the stuff found inside the coffin - medals and such.

I also broke out my way better point and shoot camera, so the pics are much bigger and better if ya click on 'em. After seeing all this, I headed west to another local landmark - White Mound.

This is just a big bluff/plateau east of White Mound. I had forgotten it was here. That is a pretty poor stand of dryland milo in the foreground. If it rains, the strips of green plants will take off, but the dried up areas are forever gone.

White Mound! This place has some emotional weight for moi because there were several little ponds in the pastures to the west, most of which had fish, and Dad had permission from the owner to fish there. He, Cuzzin Tom and I all spent some time there - I was totally bored after a while. I'd hook up a Rapala just for something to do, on the very off chance there might be a bass in there. Alas, it was just catfish. Which didn't bother Dad in the least - we'd go up there with stinkbaits, worms, liver and such and Dad just sat at the pond's edge, smoking cigarettes and enjoying the peace and quiet. We might have sandwiches and ice water or a pop or three along as well, but it was mostly a chance for Dad to relax away from it all. I'd get chastised were I too noisy because Dad didn't want me scaring the fish, he said. Now that I'm older, I think it was just to get me to shut up and be quiet and not ruin his afternoon off.

I should also mention that the owner at the time had a passel of sons, most of whom were schoolmates. A couple of them became musicians and started a band called - wait for it - White Mound. I had one of their t-shirts, but it turned into a rag many many moons ago.

Plus, on a different sort of adventure, my buddy Road Pig climbed up that thing in his 4wd Blazer. I think it was the Blazer - he got sorta serious with an IH Scout later because the Blazer couldn't take it.

And this milo looks better - kinda thin, but if it rains, it'll be worth cutting.

Plus, the trip on the scoot was pretty uneventful. It has been overcast all day, and it was spitting a tiny amount of moisture as I headed north from town. I'm not gonna be ripping down those gravel roads very fast real soon. I used to just run 45mph on the ol' Virago, but that was mostly when the weeds in the ditches were higher than me. I hit a pheasant once that about knocked me off the bike, and that was how fast I was going at the time. Plus, I wasn't real wild about suddenly sharing the road with deer I couldn't see coming. The weeds aren't doing as well these days, since they seem to require at least a tiny bit of rain, so the approaches to the roads were pretty visible,and the deer were playing well away from me today.

Also got 34.4mpg on that little excursion as well, so I couldn't have even come close with the FX4.

I will be doing this again - I had a lot of fun. It was my way of getting away from it all for a short time.

You've Probably Guessed By Now

My feelings on the subject at hand.

Cruise Up and Down This Road

I just got through reading a book that just stunned me with the familiarity with my formative years. Robert Rebein, who is originally from Dodge City, has written a book about growing up in the old cowtown. I graduated in 1977 from Cimarron - eighteen miles to the west of Dodge, Robert in '83. He has captured the essence of teenage prairie living, and in fact, life on the prairie, period, for all ages. The name of the book? Dragging Wyatt Earp: A Personal History of Dodge City.

There are parallels for us and differences, of course. He was raised in a large Catholic family and went to Sacred Heart School in Dodge. Small Catholic family here, but I have had experience with nuns in Catechism (at St. Stanislaus in Ingalls) and at St. Mary of the Plains College in Dodge. Dragging, or cruising Wyatt Earp was a bit more of a destination for us than him - we had our own route in Cimarron with much the same social rules. We had some reverence for dragging Earp - it was in the Big City, there were People Who Might Want to Fight (particularly if one strayed further east of Boot Hill, where the gangs were), and there were more fast cars and hopefully fast women there. A sort of Mecca, as it were.

The book is divided into three parts - Part I: The Town, Part II: The Country, and Part III: Of Horses, Cattle and Men.

Part I contains the chapter Dragging Wyatt Earp, and here is where most quotes I've read have been pulled - mostly because they're damned good.

Wyatt Earp, to us, was not a person but a place, a mile-long ribbon of asphalt that stretched from Boot Hill on the east to the Dodge House on the west

Wyatt Earp, the historical figure, really didn't make a dent in our lives. The street probably had more influence on us. But another observation Rebein makes really hit home for me:

What is it about growing up in a small town in the West that breeds such bravado, such innocence and blind faith? Was it our isolation? The vaunted self-reliance of the region? The fact that our parents and teachers praised us inordinately or that acceptance into any of the state colleges was a fait accompli? Maybe but I have another explanation:  we were leaving. And not just for a year or five years, but forever. Like the region's cattle, wheat and corn, we'd been raised for export, and most of us had learned this at about the same time we learned that Santa Claus was a fiction.  

We'd been raised for export.

It's true. Since day one, most of us knew that our parents wanted something better for us, that we were to get an education away from cattle and farming, and leave. Find a job we could love, get married and raise kids in a more forgiving climate.

There were exceptions - many were being raised to take over the farm or the family business, which most have done with great aplomb with no regrets. Some of us found we didn't really want to leave - that the lonely, rough, inhospitable prairie is something we love.

Part II contains some of the history of our little corner of the prairie, and Rebein's personal search for Quivira, the legendary home of the seven cities of gold that the Spaniard Francisco Vasquez de Coronado sought. His trips to several Indian massacre sites, seeing the Flint Hills led him to discover that the preferred campgrounds of the Cheyenne mirrored his own choices (and mine as well) - a scenic area sheltered from the incessant winds with water, game and grass. He also talks a lot about hunting - something that for most of us is akin to breathing.

Part III is all about the cattle and cowboys. I can certainly relate to the cattle - I've doctored, herded and branded many a heifer or steer (and made 'em steers in the first place). Dad didn't believe in keeping horses, so I have never really ridden or learned to ride - just never had the inclination. So, am I a cowboy? Not so much, and never will be. Robert Rebein is, and regales in the experience, making me realize how much I missed. He also spends some time doing some modern cowboying - working as a pen rider at a feedlot managed by one of my ex neighbors. I say ex, because I'm a townie these days, but his house was on my route to work for the past seven years before the ol' place burned down.  And he is the epitome of a modern businessman cowboy, and Rebein captures him elegantly and truthfully. There is certainly a cool factor in reading about your neighbors in someone's book.

There is so much more in this book that I am not even beginning to cover here. I think that anyone raised on the Great Plains would find commonality here, and those who weren't surely could see the attraction to our choosing to live here. It was a great regret when I reached the end.

The book is also available in Kindle format for $9.99 - it's how I read it (Amazon's Cloud Reader browser plugin). If you might wonder what makes me and my compadres tick, this will surely go a long way into gaining some insight.

Highly, highly recommended. Sure wish I could write as well....

I'm All For Liking This

This is an exchange I noticed on Facebook the other day. It's all local women posting, except for the instructor.

While the big robbery the other day was an influence, I know for a fact that it was just a tipping point. These women had been considering taking a class so they could carry concealed for some time and had been putting it off. The robbery was just a reminder.

I cannot tell you how much this gives me the warm fuzzies.

I am very happy indeed that our state and local laws allow and encourage women to be able to defend themselves effectively. They are completely aware that law enforcement is quite a bit of time away from them should there be any trouble, and that the local LEOs feel that women should be armed if they choose.

Plus, this is not the only thread talking about women taking concealed carry - there are others who are committed as well.

Like I said before: we don't care for this sort of thing in our town, and won't stand for it. This includes the women - not just us guys beating our chests. If someone is planning a repeat, best keep this in mind.

Edited to add: I had nothing to do with this - it was all from our local women! I just happened to see it on Facebook! And, I'm proud of them all!

Brilliant!

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"What about my needs?"

"It's not you, it's me."

Pretty decent parody, even if it does have a commercial at the end.

Crime Wave!

My little home town has seen it's share of historical crime - shootouts and such - mostly battling it out for the county seat with nearby Ingalls. The Santa Fe Trail ran right by, lots of Indian action in the area, and in more modern times, the Clutters were murdered in Holcomb about an hour away. We've had to deal with a drug problem - meth labs and such, and other recreational drugs can be found.

But we ain't never seen nuttin' like this:

Wasn't me. I swear.

(CIMARRON, Kan.)—

Authorities are looking for a man who robbed a bank in Cimarron Monday.  The robbery happened around 11:40 at the Credit Union of Dodge  City on Main Street in Cimarron.Police say the suspect showed a gun inside the bank and left with an undisclosed amount of cash.  No one was injured during the robbery.The suspect is described as a white male, about 5'10" with a medium build.  He was wearing dark colored plastic sunglasses, a fake beard that covered most of his face and a hooded sweatshirt.The Gray County Sherriff's Office, the KBI and the FBI are asking anyone with any information to contact law enforcement at 620-855-3916.

Bank in this case means the Credit Union. You can imagine how stirred up Facebook is now. Hope "they" catch the SOB - we don't care for this sort of thing in our town, and won't stand for it.

Yee Haw!

It's been snowing here for two days. Heavy, wet snow. Not a ton of wind. We've supposedly received 8 to 10" since this storm fired up.

Out the front door

It's even dropped another inch or two since I took these pics.

Using my door as a snow shovel

 And I know it's snowed more because I just cracked open the door and shoved more snow since this pic was taken.

Through the glass of the front door. The camera decided flash was needed.

Yep, that is my pickup beyond that tree. I'm gonna have to venture out to the grocery store since I'm about out of ice for my tea, dern it. Guess I've got plenty of snow outside if that proves problematic, but I'm also out of some other things and cabin fever is setting in. I had these two days off for three doctor appointments, but one called me Tuesday and cancelled right off, yesterday I didn't feel like fighting the roads to go to Dodge, and today when I called the medical center to cancel their answering machine talked to me because no one was there.

Is this a drought buster? Not really. The NWS says we've gotten about 2.4" of moisture or rain equivalent in the past 48 hours. Not gonna be nearly enough to make up for what we've not gotten in the past four or five years for sure. But maybe this has broken the cycle and we'll start getting moisture again. Time will tell.

And while I am enjoying this, it's only because I'm not out in it. I do not envy the poor bastards that have to fight this, as I have in the past. And while I can look at this as a Currier and Ives moment in time, the beauty of the snow and the placidity it encourages really doesn't cut it for me. I see the sloppy mess we're gonna have to live with for the next week or so as it all melts. I see every vehicle looking like crap because they have to drive around in the dirty slush. I see cattle suffering from the cold and mud plus calves with snotty noses, also worried stockmen. The mud sticks to the animal's legs and freezes there, and has to be damned uncomfortable.

I also see the soil taking a big drink, and in my mind's eye, I can feel the thirsty ground slurp this snow right up. I can see how when the weather warms up, things will start to turn green because there is hope for life.

If it weren't for the benefits that a well watered soil brings, I could easily live without the drama and beauty of snow. Rain works just fine for me.

Update: Before I even published this - I was watching the Duels at Daytona (to set the qualifying order for the Daytona 500 this Sunday) and I lost my DirecTV signal. The dish was full of snow. At the farm I'd just step outside and brush off the dish. Here, where it's mounted to the roof next to the gutters - well lets just say I had to whack it with a broom, and clear out underneath it as the snow would fall off and the roof held in in place still blocking the dish. At least I didn't have to bum a ladder from someone. Another reason I like rain better.

Blast From The Past

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Ahhh, 1977. The year I graduated from high school. This video really took me back. I really don't recall Oakley Ralph wearing a cowboy hat much. Had his son as a classmate at St. Mary of the Plains College but never got to know him very well, because he didn't live on campus. I competed in a speech contest put on by the Optimist Club with Nancy Jo Trauer's daughter. As I recall, she won the thing - mostly because she gave a far better speech than I!

And at the Longbranch Saloon you can get a soda, but what you really really want is a sarsaparilla. Good for what ails ya. The sales barn hasn't changed much, compared to many of the other shots. The mall shown was nearly brand spankin' new back then, and that area has been built up considerably. The "new" Civic Center mentioned was actually built in 1954 - heh. Downtown looks a lot different as well - some streets have been closed off and parking put in, plus an old mill across the tracks from Front Street has been demolished and is now parking for the Dodge dealer. Most of the downtown streets are still brick, but the theater is kaput these days. Cattle are still fed from "feed trucks" just like the one dumping feed into the concrete bunk in the film.

Oh, and the video cuts to a Black History moment about Harvard's "new" Afro-American Studies at about the 5:15 mark. Interesting for sure, but I am puzzled why they were lumped together.

I've Seen The Battle, and I've Seen The War

That would be some of the lyrics from Devil's Waiting by the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. Until this song was used in the season finale of season two of Hell on Wheels - I'd never heard of 'em. Shows what I know, I guess. Really, really like this haunting tune.

Here is a "live" version:


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If you want to hear the album version, which is the one used in the finale, go here.

And finally, this is the last minutes of the season finale, where the song was used:


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I'm not too sure this video will last - I'd bet AMC has it pulled. You can watch the episodes online - but that is mostly to rub it in Dish's face, because of the ongoing dispute they are having over programming pricing. AMC is "generously" allowing the shows to be seen so Dish customers can watch, too.

At any rate, just to explain (what I'm saying will be Greek to anyone who hasn't seen any episodes) - The Swede killed Lily, who by now is Cullen's squeeze. As you can see, the Swede wasn't shown dead, so my money is on him coming back next season. Great villain. Durant is in custody for fraud, Mr. Toole shot himself so now Eva is "free" to hook back up with Elam, who is the father of her unborn child. The encampment is destroyed and the population pretty well killed off. The Sioux won their battle, but at a severe cost. The episode was called "Blood Moon" and it was appropriately named. Things got mighty bloody.

If you have not seen any episodes, I highly recommend trying to catch some repeats or rent 'em. They're on iTunes and other similar sites, and Netflix has 'em as well. If you are close to me, I've even got season one on DVD as well. The series is very well written with some completely unexpected plot twists, and the acting is superb. The attention to detail seems authentic to the time period to me - the clothes, the tech, the language all seem authentic. It's good stuff.

I Seen It!

At the motel in Faith, SD - guarding the ice machine. When they don't want you to take more than your fair share, they get serious 'round hyar!

This is a decidedly different style pump jack. An enclosed vertical roller system raises and lowers that wide flat belt seen at the top, with the drill stem hooked to it. It's supposed to be a more efficient design, I guess. I can't remember what it's called, either. To the left is a conventional pump jack - some up here are a modified form of that style with a scissors action.

This is where bee barf comes from.

I know I've got a better view of the bugs on the windshield than that truck ahead, but there are several serious safety violations going on there. Try to see what they are, answers under the fold.

To Everything There Is A Season

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 I've been hearing this song in my head all day long. Guess why?

The leaves are changing in the North country - I first noticed it between Oberlin KS and McCook, NE on US83. These two pics were taken on the bridge over the Niobrara River just south of Valentine, NE. This particular basin is a sportsman's paradise - hunting and fishing are very good here, they say. Plus, it's purty as all get out.

These pics were taken in a little valley just south of White River, SD in a reservation area.

If you look closely, there are the remains of a foundation. Supposedly, that was a bar (upstairs) and a cathouse (downstairs) until the day all the local wimminfolk got PO's and burned it to the ground. This allegedly happened in the sixties - not so long ago.

I am NOT looking forward to winter, nor coming up thisaway during that time. It is, however, lookin' good in the fall duds.

It's Definitely A Poor Farm Right Now

But there is hope. I have a fair amount of trees that just might make it. Not sure I'd wanna move back out there to live if there were no trees. While I likes my open spaces, I also like stepping out and hearing birds sing. There were still birds singing there yesterday and today.

I took these pictures coming in from the North headed south.

The pasture grass burned pretty good. I figured the field next to the road had been burned, but the wind was out of southwest, so the fire moved to the northeast. The emergency guys said the draw helped them stop the fire.

Actually, the fire did run along the edge of the field and the ditch, but they got it out.

Those two hedge trees (osage orange) have been lonely outposts there for years. Not so much now.

This is the shelterbelt of Dutch Elms on the north edge of the place. I had some old oil drums out there for targets, and there is some disease running through all the old elms (I'm tired and just can't remember the details), so the trees were kinda thinning out, and I and my pals pretty well cut two of them down out of the center when I had my rifle range all set up. From the drive next to the house to the very south side of the trees was a hundred yards.

Traveling further south, looking east, we see the grain bin that made it, and where the old garage and chicken house used to be. That grain bin to the left is junk, been that way for over forty years. I doubt the grain auger is any good - the belts are all burned off and the motor is scorched. That garage was an old single car unit with two lean to's attached on each side. My neighbor who uses this pasture and the farm had a bunch of metal fence posts in there, plus several spools of new barbed wire. Perhaps the posts will be ok, but the barbed wire did not need the heat treatment. First time you put a fence stretcher on it, well, it's gonna break.

Now we see the yard looking east along the driveway - the house should be to the left. The windmill still works and is pumping. The trash bin has two wheels and two plastic puddles now. I'm not sure the propane tank is safe. It was venting when the firefighters got there, and it was just too dangerous to get close. Flames were shooting up forty and fifty feet high, apparently, plus the ammo and a few propane bbq bottles were cooking off. They don't wear Kevlar, so they were somewhat reluctant to spend much time close to the house when they could actually save something by stopping the fire moving north in the pasture. The house was long gone anyways.

Here is a view from the road looking east.

The view from the drive. That tree to the left is pretty hollowed out - not sure it will make it.

The old C-band dish and the DirecTV dish. The C-band was not designed or made to point that far west. The feedhorns in the K-band dish are melted out. I'd had a tree fall right along the path you see with the white ash some time ago, and had never cleared it out. My cousin was whittling it down for firewood. As you can see, it got pretty hot - that white ash is it.

This is the view on further east on the south side of the windmill. That little round dealie in the center is my water well head. It will need work. The drifts are ashes from round bales. That is also what is left of the trees behind the wellhouse and windmill. Some of them are locust trees. The area to the right going back to the east was my father's garden. My nabe filled that up with bales as well.

When I was a kid, some of my buds and I would pick cherry tomatoes from the garden and spear 'em on the locust trees, calling 'em tomato steaks, of all things.

Then we make a hard right and go by the what is left of the old bunkhouse. When Sis and I were little, Dad usually had a hired hand that he'd put up out there for the summer, so they didn't have to drive much, or just to have a place to live. They always ate at the dinner table and pretty well just treated that as an extra room. One high school kid later became our county sheriff. In later years, that was Dad's man cave, where he kept his model airplanes (and his stash of Playboys, as I discovered. Heh.)

Looping back around the house to the north we can see that there is no wooden corral fence left. The nabes had to put up an electric fence. Dad nabe says he has enough panels around to rig up a better setup.

Looking a bit more closely at the stock tank and some of the stuff that is left. That's an old portable water tank from years ago there on the right - it got so leaky it was useless. The pipe on top? Sis and my old swingset. It just ended up there, never hauled away. The wellhouse would have been just to the right off camera.

The contents of the well house. The concrete water storage tanks are at the left edge. Back in the day, one would keep milk jugs in those tanks, and the cool water would keep the milk. As the windmill pumped, the tanks stayed full of cold water, and they drained into the stock tank outside. I won't be using that air compressor much, I fear, nor will the transaxle that fits the front of my pickup be of much use. That is a Cannondale bicycle frame - worthless now. Ther is even part of an old butter churn there to the right of the compressor behind the transaxle. That twisted rectangular thing used to be a shot upright freezer that we used to store stuff after it shot craps. That appears to be what is left of the power line draped over the transaxle. No insulation no mo.

So, there have been two funds set up for me in the two banks in Cimarron. The high school gym is a collection point for donated furniture and whatever. Sis came up right away and was waiting for me to get back from Michigan and did a yeoman's labor getting a bunch of stuff set up. One of my Facebook pals and former classmates - a rather well regarded nurse at the medical center in Dodge - got me a real decent batch of samples for my drugs. I only had until Sunday night on me. I also called my pharmacy, and the gal there told me most insurance companies will allow a one time reset of prescriptions in a case like this, and when I got back and stopped by, they had ALL my stuff ready to go. Just had to pay the copay.

Sis also got me hooked up with the Red Cross. I was eligible for a grocery and some other payment that amounted to a $160 gift card. The stuff I buy with that will be tax free. I am also eligible for up to $450 first months rent. I was eligible for four night of motels, but I had not applied soon enough. Which I could not do, seeing how I was some distance away. It still took some paperwork from the county EMS coordinator that stated I had lost everything in the fire on that date. She is the wife of one of my longtime pals, and she and the main "boots on the ground" guy took Sis and I out to look at things yesterday. He had me tell me where my various guns were at, and dug around with a shovel and actually found some. Others had found some of my rifles. All of them look like they'd been planted in the garden for years, and just dug up. My S&W 686 looked to be in the best shape, but it's still useless. Just less rust. That was my favorite handgun. I still have an M4gery in my pickup, my Glock 22, and a few shotguns and war surplus rifles I had been keeping at the nabes. The keys to my gun cabinets there were in an aluminum gun case with my three .22 handguns in it. We found my S&W 22A out of there. I'll probably have to destroy the locks to get in to the cabinets now. Oh well. I don't have the keys to my safe deposit boxes in Cimarron anymore, either.

It's still burning, or smoldering. You can hear things still doing the Rice Krispy sounds. The wind, out of the south, carries the heat north. One does not really want to stand on the north side of foundations for very long. One comes away heated and smelly from the smoke.

I've got two places to live. The first place is nabe's son's home. He's moving out and I'm moving in, probably tomorrow. It's the old Wright place, for those of you who know about it and where it's at. It's just into the western edge of Hodgeman county east of the Finney county line. Jetmore is the closest city. Another long time dear friend has his mother's old house out for rent, and it just came open. However, he and his wife thinks it needs some new carpeting and tile installed. I'll get to move in later.

I also have two very good leads on large amounts of furniture. My old friend who lives in Nebraska is faunching at the  bit wanting to bring me a trailer load of stuff that was her father's. I also have a long time pal in Garden City who has a similar situation. Her father just passed away, and she has about a month to haul his stuff out to auction, or give some of it to me. Her father was a hell of a cook ( used to cook at the old Depot bar in Cimarron, as well as farmed and all sorts of other jobs), and his furnishings sound a hell of a lot better than anything I had. My Nebraska pal's does as well. I know I'll have a washer and dryer for sure if I want to go to Fowler and just pick it up. Just have to see what my Garden City pal has first, I guess.

I know some things are on a short list that I just eventually gotta have. I think a microwave and such appliances are pretty much a given, considering, but I really liked my cookware. I'm also gonna want a deep freeze badly - I used mine all the time. Plus, I hate to sound whiny, but I'm gonna be wanting a decent television and a surround sound system. Gonna be hard without that.

I've got my phone and internet provider helping me out at the Wright place. It's out of their phone territory, but they'll let me use one of their wireless hotspots until I move to Cimarron, then I'll turn it in, turn on my phone and DSL in town. They've got a tower out there for their wireless telephone service withing a a mile or less.They are taking care of me big time. Normally there is a two year contract involved with those hot spots. DirecTV also told me not to worry about the receiver that was torched - and my account is suspended for a month. If I need more time, just call.

So, what started all this? Inconclusive. Some of  the guys think electrical fire. Others (and that includes my Cuzzin' Tom, who was in EMS and did this for years), think it was started by a cigarette in the very southwest corner of the place along the road. Tom even found the cigarette butt. He figured the fire started there, started burning the grass, started the old dead tree up and fired up some serious heat. The foundation bricks on that and the north side showed a lot of heat damage - they were broken out on the outside and not on the inside. Tom thinks the fire came in my cellar, ran under the house, and started the porch on the west side up. The house was probably full of smoke for some time before it really went up.

One of the windmill laborers (putting up wind generators in the area) actually called it in, and he said the house was completely ablaze but he did not see the grass to the south on fire. That is why the other side says electrical fire. The firefighters pretty well had to just let it go - there wasn't going to be anything worth saving anyhow, plus they didn't feel like getting blown up by the propane tank, or hit by a round cooking off, or the little propane bottles taking flight and smacking 'em. Can't say I blame 'em one little bit. Sis - somehow related to Miss Manners (not sure about me) got the guys some cookies to take out on fires with them for something to snack on. I think she even put 'em in big Ziplok bags so they could seal 'em back up. She's taking names of everyone who has helped, so she can send thank you notes.

As for myself, there are two things that are bothering me. One - I cannot understand how I deserve all this help and largess. I don't think I'm much different than anyone else, but I'm hearing that I'm not. Apparently my pal who wants to rent to me and my Cuz got together and figured this might just be a way for me to see just how good people could be, and teach me to take it. I've always been a do it yourselfer. Nope, don't need no help doin' that thang. Hate to bother ya, so I'll do it myself.

Well, I cannot survive without sacrificing that kind of thinking.

Plus, I'm still pretty shook up about Rooster. Every time someone asks how I'm doing, and I bring that little so and so up, I break up. I'm sorry, but I was not there for him in his hour of need. I do not see how he could have gotten out, and I hope and pray he was overcome by smoke inhalation and died in his sleep. Cuzzin' Tom told me he could find him if I wanted, but I'd just as soon not have him disturbed. There is always hope, but is sure seems unlikely. If I had any say in the matter, I'd have traded it all for him to survive. Take the rest of the crap, just leave him alone.

But that ain't the way the dice were loaded. I had about eight great years with the stubborn little turd, and he probably about had me trained as well. He was definitely my cat. My friends tell me he had a good life - he was a rescue cat from the pound in Dodge..I picked him up while unemployed before I even started at my current job. I'm not sure they'd let me adopt knowing how much I'm gone these days. I'm not sure I want another cat right now, either. Don't know if I could handle it.

At any rate, I'm alive and fairly well, other than it's hotter than H. E. Double Toothpicks here. I'm in Garden City at my favorite motel for when I just don't feel like driving home and driving back super early. I wanted one in Dodge with my reward points, but the ones that I could use were full up. Sis is heading back to OKC first thing in the morning. Some little pissy assed thunderstorm came through and knocked this section of Garden City out of power about an hour ago, and I'm tethered to my phone for internet access. Battery is pretty well down now, so I'll be shutting down and calling it a day. It's been a long one. And I mean a long one.

Hope you are all well. I certainly appreciate the positive thoughts and nice comments. Until the next report......

Yee Haw

Oh Boy! I can hardly wait! Be still my beating heart!

BTW, I live right about where the "t" is in the word "later." Maybe we'll just get the rain without the wind and  pyrotechnics. Or not.

I'll Take Some Snow With My Turkeys, Thank You Very Much

First off - snow! This is the second actual measurable and semi-significant snowfall we've had this winter. Bonus points for falling with no wind. This happened between five a.m. and when I finally drug my butt outta bed. We have a slight chance for more today, but I ain't holdin' my breath. Plus, this is already melting.

The wheat is starting to green up - amazing considering how little moisture it's had this season. This little deluge will hold off the thirsting hordes of wheat plants for about three days if it doesn't get hot and windy. Otherwise, one day. Bet you didn't know wheat got thirsty or felt pain, eh? Farmers know. They can tell. They might not think much of Bill Clinton, but they can "feel your pain" as far as their crops go. When the wheat starts to lighten in color and get brown on the edges, the keening cuts right to their souls.

I got very excited when I saw these puppies. The last time anyone has seen wild turkeys in this 'hood was about eighteen years ago - by mine and my neighbor's reckoning. About three miles southwest of here is a huge shelterbelt on an old farm that held two to three turkeys for almost a year or so until they just disappeared. We all had our suspicions that a certain resident (not gonna say gentleman, who doesn't reside here any more) poached 'em.

The State of Kansas has divided the joint up into hunting sections, and the one The Poor Farm and a neighboring area have not allowed turkey hunting for years and years. This was because there were no turkeys living here in the first place. They seem to like areas with a little more water than we have here.

There is a sort of deer and game "trail" that runs from the southwest to the northeast from the Arkansas River on towards Jetmore. In that swath is where you'll generally find deer - a lot of that ground is in pasture, so there are remote stock tanks fed by windmills for them to get water. I expect the turkeys will be hanging close to stock tanks as well.

Some of ya might not be too excited to see a wild turkey. I certainly see a ton of 'em in my travels, so it's not like I never lay eyes on one. To see five of them right off my front porch, where I have never seen one in my life - well, that's thrilling to me.

Soule's Folly

One of the cool things about living in the old Wild West is the history associated with the area. What you see north of US50 meandering across the terrain is the remains of an old canal dubbed Soule's Folly. The dry riverbed to the south is the Arkansas River.

Asa Titus Soule, born in Duanesberg, NY on August 2, 1824, was hardly the prototypical western hero. The eleventh child of Quakers, it is believed he had no involvement in the Civil War. In fact, it wasn't until he was in his forties that he found success as a patent medicine manufacturer - the Hops Bitters Company, with its showcase products Dr. Soule's Balm Syrup and Soule's Hop Cure for Colds and Coughs.

Armed with money, he was convinced by some friends from Dodge City to invest in the area by developing it. In the 1880s the area was being touted by the government as a potential paradise, and land was cheap. Irrigation could make the area bloom. He decided to found a town - Ingalls. Emerging towns, in order to survive, really needed about any advantage they could obtain - rail service was important, plus the legitimacy conferred by becoming the county seat. Soule sought this for his new town.

The problem was Cimarron (my hometown). Founded several years earlier and fairly well established, Cimarron was determined to become the seat of Gray County. It already had a fairly established farm based economy. Plus, Cimarron won the initial census and vote count for county seat, with Montezuma coming in second and Ingalls a distant third. Enter Soule with his money. He promised Montezuma and Ensign (another town in Gray County) a railroad. Ingalls was to get a sugar mill. Dodge City was to get a college - which it did. Soule College was built on the north side of town, eventually becoming St. Mary of the Plains College. Destroyed by a tornado in the forties, it was rebuilt, and I studied pre-med on an academic scholarship there.

Plus, Soule began build a ninety mile irrigation canal starting around Ingalls and ending in Edwards County between Spearville and Kinsley. Water rights along the way would be for sale. The local population along the canal exploded.

So, on October 21, 1887, the stage was set for the election for the county seat. Was it all aboveboard and legit? Are you kidding me? Cimarron won, but probably the most egregious perfidy among the gunplay and ballot box stuffing was from a group of Foote Township (where I live, and I'll gladly entertain bids for my vote - just sayin') Equalization Society, aka The Oark (sp???) Lantern Society. Apparently 72 farmers sold their votes to a group of Cimarron businessmen for a bond worth $10,000. The bond was found to be a forgery since the businessmen all signed each others' names, so the Foote Township farmers didn't make a dime for selling out. 

Naturally, charges of fraud were brought up by Ingalls. Cimarron gained a leg up when the County Commissioners appointed a County Clerk Pro Tem, who on the order of writ from the Kansas Supreme Court obtained the county records from Dodge City and brought them to Cimarron. A temporary courthouse was established on the second floor of a building downtown. It used to be the Western Auto store when I was a kid.

On November 8, 1888 a second election was held, with both sides claiming victory. The Kansas Supreme Court determined that Ingalls had won the Sheriff and County Clerk positions, but the citizens of Cimarron refused to part with the records. Soule tired of this and hired (remember, this is the Old West) several gunmen to take the records by force. Two of the notables were Bill Tilghman and Jim Masterson (younger brother of Bat). There were other members of the notorious Dodge City Peace Commission hired as well.

On January 12, 1889, the "Ingalls" men rode into Cimarron. The pro tem clerk, threatened with his life, played for time as the records were loaded into a wagon. The "Ingalls" men found themselves surrounded by about two hundred Cimarron men. In the ensuing gun battle, some of the Ingalls men tried to hide out in the "courthouse," but were shot at through the floor from below. Many were wounded, but only one man from Cimarron was killed - a John Wesley English (I had some neighbors named English). The governor sent two companies of militia to maintain order, and Ingalls got their county seat.

A disillusioned Soule retreated to New York and his elixer business. Within a year, he was dead. His canal (which he had fortuitously sold) failed - the ground was too sandy and the water just disappeared into the ground in the first several miles. Plus, a drought hit the area, bringing water levels down and hurting the economic viability of Ingalls, who no longer had their benefactor for support. Many Ingalls residents left the area. On February 1, 1893, a special election for county seat was held, which Cimarron won. There are still hard feelings between Ingalls and Cimarron over the dispute.

A flood in 1895 destroyed some of the buildings at the head of the canal, but it filled the reservoir the canal was to obtain it's water. Some investors installed two centrifugal pumps, but once again, the canal absorbed too much water in too short a distance. A second flood in 1921 buried the pumps - one of which has been recovered and is on display in Ingalls. Also, in a battle still fought in the courts today - in 1902 the US Supreme Court ruled that the State of Colorado could use as much water from the Arkansas River as it wished. They did, and still do, leaving bupkis for Western Kansas. Can you say John Martin Reservoir? But, to be fair, continual depletion of the water table from irrigation from water wells has a lot to do with not having a river in our river.

So, Soule's everlasting monument is some mounds of dirt left only in virgin prairie - the canal has been farmed over for most of it's length. Of course, Soule Street in Dodge City is named for him, and Canal Street in Cimarron marks where the canal actually passed through town. It's pretty likely without his interference, the Gray County Seat War would have never happened.

My sources for this post were mostly from Cimarron's premier third grade teacher Elsie Wagner. Her passion was local history, and she published her book Cimarron, the Growth of a Town after she retired. She wasn't my assigned third grade teacher (not my choice at the time, I really wanted in her class), but she did teach my class history. Excerpts are available at our former John Deere dealer Pete Thomas's site CimarronKansas.net - a neat destination in it's own right. Not many towns have a site like this. Also, I used information from kansapedia, the Sole Society, and the Kansas Collection. I have seen some of the old bullet holes in the old Western Auto building - the second floor was converted into an apartment where a friend lived many moons ago.

Gunfight at the OK Corral? Professional gunfighters in quick draw battles? High Noon?

Not really. But pitched battles between mostly ordinary citizens in a small downtown? Hired gunmen? It happened in my hometown, so many years ago.

Badlands!

When people talk about the Badlands, most really mean the area in South Dakota designated the Badlands National Park. But, Badlands has a generic description:

A badlands (also badland) is a type of arid terrain where softer sedimentary rocks and clay-rich soils have been extensively eroded by wind and water. It can resemble malpaís, a terrain of volcanic rock. Canyons, ravines, gullies, hoodoos and other such geological forms are common in badlands. They are often difficult to navigate by foot. Badlands often have a spectacular colour display that alternates from dark black/blue coal stria to bright clays to red scoria.

snip

The term "badlands" represents a consensus in North America: the Lakota called the topography "Makhóšiča", literally bad land, while French trappers called it "les mauvaises terres à traverser" – "the bad lands to cross". The Spanish called it tierra baldía ("waste land") and cárcava. The term badlands is also apt: badlands contain steep slopes, loose dry soil, slick clay, and deep sand, all of which impede travel and other uses. Badlands form in arid regions with infrequent but intense rain-showers, sparse vegetation, and soft sediments: a recipe for massive erosion.

Some of the most famous fossil beds are found in badlands, where erosion rapidly exposes the sedimentary layers and the scant cover of vegetation makes surveying and fossil hunting relatively easy.

snip

Some of the best-known badland formations can be found in the United States and Canada. In the U.S., Makoshika State Park in Montana, Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota and Badlands National Park in South Dakota together form a series of extensive badlands formations.

From Wikipedia


This was taken on US85 southbound climbing out of the Little Missouri River basin located in the North Unit of the Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It's not much of a climb in or out, particularly compared to the passes in the Rocky Mountains, but what you do see is awesome. I'm not too wild about heights, so for me there is always an element of fear in the mountains. I feel closer to this kind of scenery - it's more accessible and friendly to me. I feel more at home here.

The following pictures are from Wikipedia's entry on the Badlands National Park. While the actual acreage set aside is south of I90 near Wall, SD - the interstate does cross a pretty rugged spot just west of Wall - you get an idea of what the whole thing must be like.


How do you even begin to try to traverse something like this?



Even from I90, one can see rock formations erupted from the flat terrain, craggy snaggletoothed sharp bones of the earth exposed for the ages. I doubt the walls of Mordor have anything on these barriers.


This is the sort of thing you'll see on the interstate west of Wall.

I dunno, I get an emotional reaction from this area that I like. It's dangerous ground for sure, inhospitable, wild, tumultuous and rugged. The ambiance neither is neither inviting or threatening - the effect just is. Millennia were required to shape this - it doesn't deign to notice a mere tubby trucker blasting by at seventy five on the interstate. The mountains can getcha - a slip on the ice, a shift in the built up snow leading to an avalanche, an inattentive or aggressive driver - just a minor mistake completely out of your control can result in death. Mountains don't care, but their capricious nature can take ya out.

The Badlands could getcha just as easily, but I don't get the unpredictable vibes the mountains give me.


Does this remind you of anything? Maybe some scenery in an old John Ford western? Think Monument Valley.

Dances With Wolves was filmed in South Dakota territory - a fact that is driven home on I90 by the signs advertising the 1880 Town near Murdo, where you can view some memorabilia from the movie. The 1880 Town ads can't hold a candle to the Wall Drug ones - if you've ever traveled on that stretch of I90, you'll know just what I mean.

But, I digress. After seeing the area (plenty of times over the past few years), I've come to the conclusion that Kevin Costner shortchanged his movie by not utilizing more of the local terrain. He really showcased the vast, rolling prairie with the grass waving in the wind. But, he missed out on the grandeur of the Badlands. John Ford was a master of setting the mood with the backdrop - that was just one of the techniques in his filmakers' tool chest.

Just as an example: at the end, when the Union troops and Pawnee scouts are looking for the Lakota - that area could just as easily been in the foothills of the Rockies or in the hills of Arkansas. Not necessarily where you might find a Lakota band in the first place. Costner wanted to paint a bleak picture - the scene was winter, he had a howling wolf in the soundtrack - cold, lonely, stark - that was the mood he was looking for in those closing scenes. He had all that in easy driving distance from the ranch location they used, and they did shoot in the winter.

It's just my opinion, but Dances With Wolves could have been a lot more eye popping visually. I suppose considering the big picture the salient points Costner wanted made were achieved, and the movie certainly was a financial success. It's definitely a movie I enjoy. But, this is one area that it missed being a really great movie. Lonesome Dove used correct terrain for great visual and emotional impact, and it was a freaking TV miniseries.

But, I suppose in the end, the authenticity of Dances With Wolves beats the tar out of television oaters like Gunsmoke, where a trip from Dodge City to a local town involves more trees and hills than the entire state of Kansas possesses (as opposed to the canyons and forests near Hollywood, where those shows were filmed). At least Costner got the rolling prairie right. South Dakota certainly looks like what we see in the film, in a tunnel vision sort of way.

In the yes or no columns for the Badlands, put me down as a yes.