This is the worst time of year for me. It's March. It's a march towards the worst day of my life.
Mom and Dad on that fateful day.
I can't help it.
A lot of it is because I feel so much unresolved guilt. There was so much I wanted to ask, so much I wanted to know.
I also knew how depressed my dad was at the constant hospitalizations. He was so tired.
Dad and Allison (in Jessica's arms) a few days after Alli's birth in 2014
I remember arguing with him about this. I hated hearing words out of my mouth from him. One of the last times... the last time I had this conversation with him was when I was visiting him at the hospital in January 2015. We had the Capitals game on. They lost to Montreal.
It would be the last time I got to interact with him in person, but I didn't know that then. He called me on my birthday. He wasn't at home yet, but he wasn't at that terrible place in Reisterstown that had my brother ready to fight someone for how the staff was treating him.
The next two weeks are just me going through the motions these days, as I remember the lost opportunities and the horror of the text messages I was receiving those final days.
Somewhere in a pile of rubber and steel
One day, April 2 will dawn, and I won't feel the dread and sadness that I've felt since 2015, when I awoke that morning knowing that was the day Dad would die. I don't know why we chose that day. I wish we hadn't chosen that day to turn off the ventilator; it's the day my beloved Camaro rolled off the assembly line, and now the joy of that car is forever tied to the anguish of losing my dad.
So bear with me. Pat told me that day 8 years ago that the pain never goes away, that it just gets easier to manage. I guess I usually manage it okay, except for this time of year. But yeah, the pain is still there.
Western Nebraska isn't much different, visually, than Wyoming or South Dakota.
The previous night, mom had expressed interest in going to Agate Fossil Beds, saying it was "right next door" to the Robidoux RV Park. Well, the guide she was going by had mislocated Agate by saying it was in Gehring; it was over fifty miles to the north. Still, when I sat down and planned out our day, I figured if we left the RV Park by 7AM, we could do Agate, Scott's Bluff and the two Pony Express Stations easily.
So, we left just before 7, and headed up towards Agate Fossil Beds National Monument. Like Fossil Butte and John Day, it is a post-Jurassic, Miocene era fossil site; no dinosaurs here. The visitor center also includes a rare look at Lakota Sioux artifacts given by Red Cloud and his family to the original ranch owner, James H. Cook.
Cook's "bone barn"
Paleocaster, an ancient burrowing beaver found within the strange daemonelix structures that were originally thought to be fossilized tree roots. We know now that the daemonelix is a fossilized burrow.
Hiking out to the two hills (University and Carnegie) where the bone beds were discovered was out of the question, partly because of mom's knee, but also because we'd been told there were no fossils on display any more due to past vandalism. I did stop by the Daemonelix Trail on the way out of the park, which was about a mile.
Flower along the trail
This daemonelix was over six feet tall
More flowers along the trail
From Agate, we headed back towards Scottsbluff and the National Monument there. In the visitor center, we saw quite a few fossils (especially turtles), and learned that the bluff was named for a fur trader who died there on the Oregon Trail.
A model of a wagon odometer. I didn't get a picture of the full-size thing when we were at the California Trail Interpretive Center.
Along the Oregon Trail
After exploring the visitor center and the Oregon Trail area, we drove up to the summit.
Looking down towards Scottsbluff and Gehring
While there, we were approached by a group of motorcyclists who asked about the RV. It turned out they were also from Maryland, and had been at the Sturgis Rally the previous week. Not only were they from Maryland, but one of the guys was from Glen Burnie, and another was from Frederick. Small world.
We drove past Chimney Rock on our way out of the area, towards I-80, and should have stopped. Mom thought it was just a state historic site, but it turns out that it actually is a National Parks Passport stamping location. Oh well.
Ogallala was where we got back on I-80, and we'd be on the interstate (80 or the linked ones 76 and 70) for most of the rest of our trip. Our last two stops for day fifteen were original-but-relocated Pony Express Stations, one in Gothenburg and one in Cozad. The Gothenburg one is in better condition, and is used as a gift shop. The Cozad one is just an historical stop in the town's park.
Gothenburg Pony Express station
Cozad Pony Express station, the Willow Island stop
The drive to Agate and extended time at Scottsbluff saw my anticipated stop in Council Bluffs not happening. So, we opted to call it a night in Grand Island, which wasn't very far from where the Rallycross Nationals were held. As a result, we did see several westbound rallycrossers on I-80 on Sunday afternoon/evening.
The obligatory "I'm driving I-80 west through Kearney" photo
With two days left, and the itinerary pretty much done, we decided to stop in Lincoln on Monday morning to see what the State Natural History museum at the University's Morrill Hall held. Turns out, it has a ton of fossils, primarily because Nebraska is apparently one gigantic bone bed.
Oh, yeah, Morrill Hall is just outside Memorial Stadium
Mammoths
Four tusker elephants
Equus excelsior
Poor turtles
Smilodon and dire wolf
Bone bed from Agate
Giant tortoise with recreated skin based off the Galapagos tortoise
Pleiosaur head. The entire skeleton was monstrous, and actually in the floor
One part of the fossil exhibit was Highway Paleontology. Like the Vore Buffalo Jump we'd visited earlier in our trip, many fossils in Nebraska are discovered during road construction. Because of that, there is actually a highway paleontology division that is present during road construction in the state.
The road they were found on is indicated
The latest highway paleontology find. This one was over two and a half feet long.
There were also some dinosaur fossils present. Not as many dinosaurs are found in Nebraska as in Utah or Wyoming.
Stegosaurus has a really small head
Allosaur
The museum also had a rocks and minerals display on the third floor, as well as a natives exhibit and an "Exploring Evolution" room. We didn't spend as much time on the non-fossils displays.
Frankly, I'm shocked that I didn't know how awesome this museum is until we visited. All the times I've been in Lincoln for Nationals, plus passing through on trips to Wendover and on the way home from Packwood....
A giant HIV model in the "Exploring Evolution" exhibit
See you.... sometime, Lincoln
From Lincoln, we drove as far as we could so that Toledo and home were doable for Tuesday.
A bed of flowers at an Iowa rest stop. Seemed to be a rest stop for a variety of butterflies as well
This meant our latest stop ever -- 9PM -- in Indiana at the Lakeside RV Resort. The manager was really nice though, and met us at the office and she and her son were really helpful with getting us situated for the night. We even were given a little gift bag (an insulated lunch bag) with cups and hot/cold packs, which was neat.
Toledo was the last point of interest, and we have two places to go. The first was a stop at the Fish Market to see if they had walleye.
The answer was "yes!" and so I bought two large fillets for Pat and we stuck them in the freezer.
Then we headed over to the Toledo Museum of Art. Mom's first experience as we entered wasn't exactly pleasant. An overzealous docent with a lazy eye looked at me and said that there was a "new policy" and "over-the-shoulder bags had to be hand held." And then she kept looking at me, and I put my hands out to the side, saying "What are you talking about? I don't have a bag!" Then she looks at mom and says, "Well, she does." So, mom sighs and moves to secure the bag (actually a convertible fanny pack) around her waist, and the docent says that's not acceptable either. I'm rolling my eyes, mom's ready to just leave, and I grab her bag and say, "Let's just go" to get away from the woman. Meanwhile, others are coming in with shoulder straps and none of the other docents are saying anything. I kind of wanted to hit the restroom, and started that way, when mom is still perturbed by the docent's attitude. Another woman going into the restroom overheard her, stopped and said, "Are you serious?" We both nodded, and the other woman said something to the effect of, "That's bullshit."
We went upstairs and then outside to cross Monroe Street to the Glass Pavilion. Mom took her bag back, slung it over her shoulder, and guess what? The pleasant docent there opened the door for us, remarked on the beautiful weather they were having, and didn't say a word about shoulder straps.
[for the record, the "collection safety" section on the museum's website only mentions "umbrellas, backpacks and other bulky items"]
So, mom calmed down and we perused the glass collections.
Nematocyst, Robert Mickelsen, 1998.
Greek Gods vs. Norse Gods glass chess set, part of the Play Time exhibit
We made our way over to the main building, and again, the docent welcoming us in didn't say a word about mom's bag. We checked out the ancient civilizations gallery, then moved back through the main lobby towards the Claude Monet mom had seen when we came in. The lazy eyed docent was now in the lobby, but we ignored her and I couldn't help but notice she wasn't saying anything to anyone. I have to wonder if someone finally said something to her superior for badgering the guests.
Anyway, we looked through some of the other paintings and finally headed out, as we needed to be on the road really by 12:30 to be home at a reasonable time. I had kind of wanted to see some of the interactive Play Time installations, but I was started to become annoyed by children who were allowed to run (literally run) around in the regular galleries, so it wasn't worth the irritation. I can't imagine how the guards hadn't already had heart attacks over potential damage to some of the artwork. We saw a small child running through gallery 35, trailing his hand against the wall, moments from trailing his hand across Monet's Water Lilies. As it was, he barely lifted his hand as he ran past the painting, and his mother said nothing. SMH
Children everywhere in the museum should have been accompanied by an adult, or someone who acted like one
The rest of the trip was thankfully uneventful.
The Allegheny Tunnel on the Pennsylvania Turnpike
We pulled into the driveway at nearly 8PM exactly, and we'd only been there for maybe five minutes when Pat pulled in. As soon as I saw him, I yelled, "Bruce!" and the spaz dog started jumping around in the cab of the Lightning.
It took about an hour to unpack things from the RV and transfer them either into the house or into the Camaro. Of course, it also took me nearly ten minutes just to figure out what I'd done with the keys to the Camaro. I still managed to leave several things behind, but oh well.
Sorting through the post cards I got and starting to put them in an album on Wednesday, it turns out that I came home with 248 cards. I did get an excessive number of post cards of various military planes and jets when I was at the South Dakota Air and Space Museum, as well as from the Wendover Historic Airfield. It was still more than I expected.
It was a long journey, but oh, so short. It was sad. It was joyous. It was frustrating. It was awesome.
There were many times that I woke up in the middle of the night thinking I shouldn't be there, that it was dad's place to be in that bed. I dreamed of him several times during the trip. But I was also happy for the time with my mom, to be able to share some of my favorite places with her, as well being able to see things together for the first time.
Having seen at least one billboard plus the ubiquitous brown information sign for the Wyoming Frontier Prison had us curious, and considering it was only about a mile away from our overnight digs, we decided to check it out. It didn't open until 8AM, and we timed it so that we rolled in at exactly that time.
It was closed.
Hrm. We wandered back towards the RV, then saw someone drive up hastily, walk-jog to the office, then back to the front door of the prison proper.
Closed in 1981
Yeah, someone overslept.
We wander around the gift shop, then inquire about the tours. We end up being the only two on the 8:30AM tour, and our guide spoke a little too fast and a little too softly for mom to make out most of what he was saying. I tried to relay the best of the information and stories.
Cell block A
Judging from the stories told by our guide and from what I read in the museum/gift shop area, a lot of people escaped from here, especially before they added Johnson bars to the cells.
A room like this would make me never want to go to prison
Some of those locked up would do pretty much anything to escape. I guess they were allowed to decorate their cells, as our guide indicated that those in a particularly dark area of cell block A intentionally chose to paint their cells very dark colors. They weren't allowed black paint, but dark brown, dark red and dark green were certainly done.
A self portrait of an inmate
Cell blocks B and C were added later on to alleviate overcrowding and, in the case of C, to give a separate area for seriously recalcitrant prisoners. The problem with cell block C was that it had decent heating and plumbing, so inmates would misbehave to try to get moved into the maximum security area. Sure, they'd be in solitary confinement, but at least it would be warm.
Cell block C
The commissary
The commissary story we were told was funny. An inmate just a few cells away from the commissary used a combination of the gritty prison-issue toothpaste and the prison-issue dental floss to file away at the Johnson bar locking him in. Then he used a painted piece of soap to hide his handiwork. At night, he'd leave his cell and steal things out of the commissary. He'd sell those things to his fellow inmates for less than they could buy them at the prison store. It took a while for the guards to figure out what was up.
An inmate's painting in the cafeteria
Kitchen in the cafeteria. This was a highly desired job
Exercise yard
Several executions took place at this prison, and a special death row with six cells was above cell block C. The first executions were done via Julien gallows, up through 1932. The last execution, via gas chamber, in the 1960s.
Gallows room
Gas chamber
Death row
The museum held some interesting items, too, including some old crime scene investigation tools.
Part of a large kit
From the prison, we went north towards Casper and the fort that gave the city its name. Turns out that the fort, Fort Caspar, is named for Caspar Collins. They couldn't call it Fort Collins, because that Fort -- named for Caspar's father -- already existed.
The museum at Fort Caspar was primarily about Caspar Collins and the rise of the city of Casper, which involved a lot of sheep herding versus the predominant cattle herding.
A sheep herder's tool
The stables
Officer's quarters
Commissary
Enlisted man's quarters
Telegraph room
It was interesting to know that the fort had been ransacked and materials used to build Fort Fetterman, but due to Caspar Collins' meticulous drawings, the fort could be recreated fairly accurately.
Platte River bridge crossing for the Oregon Trail
Fort Laramie -- another Pony Express/Oregon Trail/historical fort -- was next on the list, though I saw something about Oregon Trail ruts in limestone while we were at Fort Caspar. Curious, I found that the site referenced, in Guernsey, Wyoming, was on the way.
In Fort Laramie, we discovered that they were prepping for a moonlight tour that night. I was disappointed, as if I'd known, maybe we could have participated. There were a ton of re-enactors on site for the event.
It was pretty hot outside, so I had empathy for those wearing heavy clothing in the sweltering weather. It was enough that even I was feeling the effects, and I am usually fairly heat resistant.
Fort Laramie started as a fur trading post, and maintained fairly good relations with surrounding native tribes for most of its existence through 1890.
A broken down hospital on the hill overlooking the main site was originally composed of lime-grout, which works great in southwestern climes, but not so well in areas that have serious freeze-thaw cycles.
A hospital seemed to be an appropriate place. While at the gift shop, purchasing my post cards, I saw bins behind the register with various labels. The gift shop/visitor center had originally been the fort's commissary, so I wasn't sure if they were just for show, but I asked, "Is that really hardtack?" When the clerk said, "yes," I had her add a piece to my purchases.
We spent more time at the prison and the two forts than I anticipated, so we weren't getting as deep into Nebraska as I thought we would. I had Chimney Rock and Scottsbluff next on the docket, and mom said that the Chimney Rock visitor center was open late. So we struck off to that monument.
Turns out that it's the Scotts Bluff National Monument visitor center that's open late, and we arrived at Chimney Rock too late to get our passport stamps. We were still able to get some great photos of one of the Oregon Trail navigational points.
We went back towards the town of Scottsbluff to call it a night. Mom had her heart set on Agate National Fossil Beds, even though they weren't as close as she thought, and we were also going to check out Scotts Bluff proper before heading to central Nebraska and I-80.
Posts
