Day 7:

All in all things went well at the Wilber Hotel last night; I am grateful to Fr. Doug for taking the smaller bed and allowing me to have the double. Luckily I had earplugs, at one point I was convinced that Fr. Doug was running a chainsaw in the room. Actually it sounded like he was running a chainsaw with the throttle totally open cutting down a large sequoia. I thought I was going to have to call in Greenpeace to stop the destruction until I put in the ear plugs and fell asleep.



Wilber Hotel. A great place to stay if you are into things Fr. Aron likes.

Fr. Doug got up earlier than me, of course, and made his way out to the front porch of the hotel to pray the Divine Office. After getting ready we went to Mass at St. Wenceslaus Church in Wilber. It is located in Bishop Fabian Bruskewiz's Catholic Disneyland, aka the Diocese of Lincoln (Lincoln has the highest priest - people ratio in the country). The Lincoln diocese has 80,000 Catholics and has 42 seminarians.  The priest was gracious and, much to my delight, there many young families. 

After Mass we returned to the hotel where we had a buffet breakfast that included sausage biscuits and gravy and oddly enough, a salad bar. When we finished our breakfast we headed out to tour the Nebraska countryside. I am telling you if you see one mile of Nebraska, you have seen the whole place. Actually I enjoyed tooling along I-80 listening to an AM station that played old country. It made the hours I spent driving on the prairie feel like I drove hours on the prairie. Though for some reason it wasn't all that bad.

Along the way I wanted to stop at the Nebraska State Fair, however Fr. Doug said if you have seen one state fair you have seen them all. After awhile we did get off the interstate to see a small museum that showcased a sod house. Sod was the common building material of the men and women who came west as a result of the Homestead Act. Knowing that the middle of the United States contained a great wasteland of sorts the government devised a plan to get people to develop the land. Beginning in 1862 the Homestead Act gave 160 acres of land, for free, to anyone who would live on it, cultivate it, and build a house on it. The catch was it was still government property for 5 years at which time an inspector would come to see if you held up your end of the bargain. If you did, the land was yours. Building materials out on the praries were hard to find since this area contained virtually no trees and the homesteaders could not afford to buy bricks. The thick prairie grass,  with a root system far thicker than our modern lawns, made great building material when it was cut into strips of sod and fashioned into a home. Very few of these structures still stand.

Fr. Doug's dream rectory

 

On the lookout for the Schwan's man. Been waiting for the better part of 35 years.

 

No, I am not interested in vinyl siding.

 

Bring me my supper. Wait, I live here alone. Never mind, I will just wait for the Schwan's man to bring me my chicken patties.

 

Heating with cow chips

 

Fr. Doug and a local. The entire work of art is made of barbed wire 

 

Barbed wire buffalo. We never had this much fun in shop class

 

When we visited the sod house we learned that insanity was a big problem for the homesteaders. Loneliness, lots of work with little payoff, rough living conditions, and disease pushed many to the edge. While we have thus far been able to avoid such maladies on our trip, we did come dangerously close today. First of all Fr. Doug was pushed to the very end of his patience (he didn't crack) when I sang along with You Picked a Fine Time to Leave me Lucille at the top of my lungs. Secondly he must have been overwhelmed by the shear tackiness of the Fort Cody Trading Post in North Platte, Nebraska.

 

 



 Fort Cody, defending souvenirs since 1950

 

Fort Cody is one of those "only in America" kinds of places. The "free museum" is a mechanical wild west show. The fort has many items including plastic western figurines, tomahawks, cow pie frisbees, and ashtrays with Gerald Ford pictured on them (he was a Nebraskan after all).

 

Quite possibly the biggest image of Buffalo Bill in our galaxy

 

"I will trade you three fox hides and a beaver pelt for one plastic sword"

 

Fr. Doug leaves the fort a better man. Please note the even better man who died defending the toy guns inside (he is hanging by the G in trading)

 

 

 

After our rather surreal trip to Fort Cody we hit the trail once again and headed for Denver. When we reached Denver we stopped at the legendary Buckhorn Exchange for supper.

 



The Buckhorn Exchange

 

 

Founded in 1893 it is a Denver landmark. Teddy Roosevelt used to frequent the place on his famed hunts out west. I made reservations for most of the places where we dined. I should have called here, but didn't. If you plan to go to Denver make reservations if you want to eat here (we were consigned to the bar area due to a lack of reservations). For dinner we had alligator, elk, buffalo sausage, and salmon.

 







 Fr. Doug enjoys Elk almost as much as he does Alligator

 

Interior of the Buckhorn Exchange, aka plans for St. Joseph's rectory

 

 

After Denver we headed to Leadville, Colorado where we are lodged for the night at the Delaware Hotel. A typical 1880s hotel it is located in heart of the city with the highest altitude in the United States.

 

The Deleware Hotel

 

Looks like Fr. Doug is about to fire up the  Husqvarna 460 Rancher

 

Lobby at the Delaware

 

Stairs that lead to the hotel room. After 612 miles today, these steps are not all that amusing.



Day 6:

This morning I said that I would let Fr. Doug sleep late. He said to me, "you are the one who gets up late." He was right. Like most of the mid-west Iowa has been plagued with dry weather. I remarked as we drove over the Iowa River it put me in mind of the American humorist Will Rodger's description of the Rio Grande in that it was "the only river that needed irrigation." Iowa made up for it today as it rained all day. I slept inside on the couch, Fr. Doug slept on a futon (Japanese for unwanted guest) on the screened-in porch. He woke up to the deluge.

Fr. Doug, just like Old Yeller

 

We spent most of the day at the farm. It is on a small dirt road with little traffic. Our friend Kevin, who is always good for a good story (all of which are 100% true - seriously) told us a story about breaking down on that road. No cars came past until the mailman passed by. Kevin asked if he would give him a tow. The mailman said he didn't have a tow rope, luckily Kevin had one in his vehicle. The mailman agreed to help, however he said he would need to make a few stops along the way. I can imagine the scene on that dirt road with the mailman delivering the mail and towing Kevin and his jalopy behind.

 

 

 

 

 Most of the day involved great stories and some reminiscing about our days at St. Vincent. Kevin told us stories about cleaning out a warehouse without a garbage can, watching basketball with Jesse Jackson, and a story about Iowa winters. That story is worth repeating here. Snow has a tendency to drift in Iowa. One afternoon Kevin and his father-in-law Larry decided to take a drive out onto the back roads to see if anyone needed help and was stuck in the drifts. When they went out they got their truck stuck. They went back to the farm and got the tractor in order to pull out the truck. The tractor ran out of gas on the way there. Frustrated Kevin decided to attempt to get back to the original truck with his truck in order to pull it out. He of course got stuck. All told they had three vehicles in the snow at the same time. You will have to travel to Atlantic, Iowa to hear the rest of the story.

 

 

 

 After attempting to play a fishing game with Kevin and Bri's daughter Lyla we found ourselves humbled. Lyla barley lost (Fr. Doug said he was casting out his steelhead lunkers). In the afternoon we drove about ten miles to Elk Horn, Iowa, Danish capital of Iowa. I never really knew any Danes, so I was pretty excited about visiting the epicenter of things Danish in the Hawkeye State.

 

 

Elk Horn is the home of an authentic Danish windmill. Built in 1848 in Denmark, the windmill was brought to the United States and completely rebuilt in one year from the fall of 1975 until the fall of 1976. Since this time Denmark has outlawed this practice. It was the brainchild of Harvey Sornson, a Danish-American from Elk Horn who really loved windmills. While visiting Denmark he lamented the fate of many windmills which were slowly decaying. Harvey inspired people to bring over the old windmill and after funds were raised, it was reassembled by volunteer labor. His grandaughter gave us a tour (she is, and looks, 100% Danish). 

 

 

 

After taking in the greatness of being a Dane we came back to the farm and packed our things. With gratitude to Kevin, Bri, and their family for their hospitality we left the farm and headed for a tourist attraction I heard about in nearby Manning, Iowa. Many of the residents of Manning are the descendants of people who came from the Schleswig-Holstein region of Germany. While it may or may not be a copycat attraction, the people of Manning (about 20 miles from Elk Horn) bought a hausbarn (a structure wherein people and farm animals live under one roof) built in 1660 in Schlewig-Holstein and rebuilt it in Iowa. The place closed before we got there; I guess I will have to visit the next time (I want to figure out how to build a thatched roof for the shed of my dreams).

 

  

 When we left the farm I was determined to visit the Father Flannagan museum in Omaha. After driving to see the German hausbarn we were unable to go to see the home of the legendary Boystown founder. After departing Manning we headed for Omaha to get a bite to eat. We had supper at Piccolo Pete's, a good steakhouse in a town known for good steaks. The table next to ours was full of Polish-Americans who were celebrating their Father's birthday. Their dad tired to get them to sing Sto Lat, but the kids didn't know the words. I couldn't take it so I chimed in and sang part of it with him.

 

 

 

The meal was good and was not too pricey.

 

 

After a good dinner we headed to our hotel in Wilber, Nebraska. Wilber, located about two hours from Omaha is the Czech capital of the United States. It is a very small town. In town there is a very, very reasonable hotel (hence the reason I checked, or czeched in). I think we are the only people in the entire hotel; I even think the staff left for the evening (seriously). 

 

 

If you note in the picture above the television (it has 18 channels - for the price of the room that is better than I expected), and a sink in the room (the toilet is down the hall).

 

Hotel lobby

 

 

 

Hall that leads to the dining room

 

 

 

The sign in the dining room advertises, "real running water." I guess back in the day fake running water was a big deal.

 

 

This is my kind of place

 

 

Though the picture of Jan Hus does make me feel somewhat distressed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 5:

The Trappists begin their community prayer at 3:30 AM with the office of Vigils, thus my day began at 3:30 AM. Fr. Doug said he was taking those prayers privately, so I went it alone.  After Lauds at 6:30 (Fr. Doug made it) and Mass at 7:00 AM, I spent some time in the casket showroom. Fr. Doug told me to try one out; I said I would get in trouble. He said, “How?  The Trappists have a vow of silence, so they can’t say anything.” He made a point, however commonsense prevailed.

Pondering mortality and prices



After leaving New Melleray Abbey we headed for West Bend, Iowa. Not far from the Abbey we noticed a sign that said “St. Francis Xavier Basilica, 3 miles,” so we turned off not knowing what to expect.  The road took us to the town of Dyersville, Iowa. Dyersville is where the movie Field of Dreams was made, and is the home of Ertl toys. However the real gem of the town is the Basilica of St. Francis Xavier. Dyersville is a small town, probably about the size of Derry (for my Latrobe family and friends), or Portage (for my Altoona friends). The basilica was built by German Catholics. While it is in keeping with the German tradition of gothic architecture and intricately carved wood, the scope and magnitude of the church is what leaves you nearly breathless.

Basilica of St. Francis Xavier

After we got back on the road we made our way to West Bend. Along the way I violated two rules. In keeping with the longtime Catholic tradition of abstaining from meat on all Fridays, I typically observe this custom even when on vacation.  While one can substitute another penitential act in the place of Friday abstinence, I rarely exercise this option, I did today. Secondly I ate at a chain, which is something I was determined to avoid on this trip. However the place we ate - Culver’s, home of the butter burger -  is a Midwestern chain and being regional was deemed acceptable. It was an ok hamburger however the name of the milkshake (the cement mixer) brought delight to my heart (and some trans fats as well).

West Bend is the home of the Grotto of Redemption. You cannot fully grasp the place unless you go there yourself. Built beginning in 1912 by the parish priest who had an interest in geology it contains an incredible amount of stones of all kinds. Caves of petrified wood, towers of semi-precious stones, and stairways made of some of the most interesting rock formations ever set in a religious shrine are what a pilgrim can expect. We drove six hours to get there; it was worth the trip.

After leaving we got lost and stopped and asked a guy for directions. I posed the question about getting to route 20. He said, “Route 20 is south of here.” I asked “How?” He responded, “I don’t know, it always has been.” I meant How do you get there, what road? He thought I was asking about how the road got there in the first place. At any rate we got back on track and passed through the town of Bode, Iowa where we got gas and I bought a bottle (a glass bottle) of Pepsi. It was not part of a series; it was just there in a small gas station.

After a few hours of driving we ended up in Johnston, Iowa where we visited the Bishop Drumm nursing home. While we were waiting to see the person we came to see I helped a lady go back to her room, she was 97. Truth be told 97 is old, but I was not impressed, as the lady we came to see could have been her mother. Born on April 4, 1897, we came to see Mrs. Dina Manfredini.  Mrs. Mandredini was born in Italy and came to the United States in 1920 and can still walk. I anointed her and gave her a blessing. She didn’t have much to say, but at 115 I guess she is just plain talked out. Mrs. Manfredini is the second oldest person on earth and one of twenty-two people on earth still born in the 1800s.

 

After leaving the nursing home we visited the other Altoona. Altoona, Iowa is slightly different than Altoona, Pennsylvania. Altoona, Iowa is totally flat, has no character, is completely suburban, is one of the fastest growing cities in Iowa, and seems to have no building built before 1990. I will stick with the original.

Upon leaving Altoona (a suburb of Des Moines) we had our supper at the High Life Lounge in Des Moines. It is worth a visit. From the food (bacon wrapped tater tots and the High Life Man – hamburger, sausage, three strips of bacon, Swiss and American cheese, fried onions and jalapenos, mayonnaise, BBQ sauce, and a powdered donut – I had neither), to the atmosphere (looks like a bar from 1970), it was a good time.

 
 

Finally we arrived at the home of our good friend Kevin Mayle. Kevin along with his wife Brianna and their children are staying with Bri’s parents at their farm in Atlantic, Iowa. What a great place. More on come tomorrow....