The Challenges of This Blasted Country

It’s been one of those days with lots of miles driven — not so rare around here, since everything is at least 20 miles away. Though the current gas crisis does make you think twice … just before you turn the key, ’cause you’ve just gotta get there from here.

I live on a section, just like Laura did. And you know what? I can’t even tell you what section it is. But I’ve seen the land maps and the ownership names. Probably looks a lot like the land divisions of South Dakota in Laura’s time. To the direct north, south, east, and west of my house are fields. Sometimes wheat, sometimes corn, sometimes sunflowers, depending on the year and the season. My house is but a dot in the corner of one of those fields. I’m a half-mile from our closest neighbors, one to the north and two to the south, all three visible clear as day. I found out a friend of mine, a woman of sixty, lives “out in the country” as I do and I asked her: “Do you have trees on your property?”

“Oh no. We haven’t been there that long.”

“How long?”

“Twelve years.”

Twelve years is not very long for trees to grow.

Luckily our house is old. It was built in the 1940s. My husband’s grandparents raised their kids here, and when they lived here they planted trees. So directly out my window now, I can hear whispering trees (when the window is open, which it rarely is because of the everpresent dust) and I can see shade under which I can send my kids to play. I’m not sure I would have lasted as long as I have “out in the country” without these trees. When I first moved here, I sometimes went for weeks without talking to a single person other than my husband.

Sometimes, in a rare and fleeting glimpse, I can sort of see where Lib Bouchie* was coming from.

* Mrs. Brewster

Lau… Inga… Wil…

Today I got Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farm Journalist in the mail. For those who don’t know, it’s a compendium of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s writings from the Missouri Ruralist from 1911 to 1924. It was published late last year.

At first I hadn’t intended to buy the book, since I already owned Little House in the Ozarks, given to me as a college graduation gift. I did value it; after I lost it through various moves, I replaced it with an eBayed copy. But I’m not a collecting purist so even when Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farm Journalist came out, I figured I’d still make do with Ozarks.

But something was wrong. Every time I went to consult Little House in the Ozarks for this column or that (even for this blog), or to track down when Laura wrote about a certain subject, one particular piece of punctuation would gnaw at me. I’d shut the book and remember it dancing through my head. Even when I tried to recall the content of the column I’d read, I’d recall just as clearly that piece of punctuation.

The darn ellipsis.

Although it’s often used incorrectly (even by moi), officially — in books from publishing houses that pay for copy editing, or some of the better periodicals — an ellipsis indicates replacing something that’s missing. Not only was the total number of columns curtailed, the columns that were printed were often incomplete. What each ellipsis was telling me — taunting me with — over and over again, was “this isn’t all of it.” I was missing out. The ellipses were mocking my incomplete reading experience.

Apparently the same thing occurred to or was pointed out to Stephen Hines, because now we have a complete set in Laura Ingalls Wilder, Farm Journalist.

Or so he says.

And now I own it. I’m going to start reading a column a night, I think, if I can manage it.

I’ll be looking for the ellipses.

“Sweet Sixteen,” Anyone?

Every once in a while, I have to admit, I want to fire up my TiVo to record all the “Little House” reruns that are on that week. And then I start thinking about all the unwatched shows that still sit in my Tivo queue and I go watch “The Office” or “Grey’s Anatomy” or “Entourage.”

For reasons that will become clear to readers of the next Homesteader issue, I’ve been thinking about the TV show a lot lately. That is, the “Little House on the Prairie” TV show. I wonder if those of us who both A) recognize the show for the tragedy it is, and B) still kind of like it anyway, have the same favorite shows? I know what my favorites are. I bet you do too.

I think I’ll always have an itch for TV “Little House.” Whenever I start considering the episodes or scenes that make me absently smile, I always come plump up against the fact (can you name whose phrase I’m plagiarizing there?) that I simply love the courtship of Laura and Almanzo. I adore the real courtship of Laura and Almanzo, of course, and I even prefer the courtship of Home Over Saturday to the TV one. But the TV one is still swoonworthy.

Maybe it’s because I was eleven at the time.

So, readers, ‘fess up. I know you’ve got ‘em. What are your favorite episodes?

Laura Ingalls Wilder Haiku *

It’s handmade nails or
nothing when it’s forty miles
to Independence

He proposed; she was
shrewd. The ring won her, not him.
Garnet and two pearls.

Rolling on the ground
on the Dakota prairie?
Do check for grass stains.

Ominous dark cloud
blots out stars one by one. So
much for a breather.

Pantry. Labor of
love or labor of debt? But
those bins! How handy!

Mailed invitation.
Lemonade and oranges.
Fun at the depot.

Your turn now!

*Thanks for inspiration.

Whirling Dervish

I don’t live on the prairie. I do live in Kansas, but not the part where Laura lived. My area of Kansas is very much like South Dakota, though … flat and treeless and yellow.

When I first moved here I’d hear my husband mention things I heard in the Little House books and my ears would perk up. “Really? You had blizzards where people couldn’t see enough to walk across the street? Blizzards like THAT?”

It was a twisted kind of fascination. I’d grown up in an area where “blizzard” meant Blizzard of ‘78 — or snowbanks higher than cars and a week off from school. But it was days and days of falling snow, not bursts of swirling whiteness.

Granted, with the climate shifting as it has, those kinds of blizzards don’t happen like they used to. I’ve lived here for almost eight years and I’ve seen only one that’s come sort of close.

But you know what’s very much like a blizzard? Dust. Combine a dry season with furious winds and you can kick up quite a dust storm. Visually, it’s just as dangerous as a blizzard. A couple of Fridays ago, the wind was kicking up something fierce. I had to drive home from town (yep, that’s how we say it here) and my mother-in-law, who had just left herself, called my cell phone a couple of times to warn me of the situation on the roads. It took her five minutes to cross the intersection on the highway, she said; she couldn’t see. The second time she called, she recommended an alternate route. So I headed home with trepidation, gripping the wheel, my kids strapped in their carseats and quiet for once at my “This is dangerous and I need you to be quiet” warning.

I had only one close call, after I turned off the highway onto the gravel road about five miles from my house. A huge dust cloud swirled up in front of me and I drove into it. I was going forward, but for a moment it didn’t feel like that. All I could see was dust. If an 18-wheeler had come upon me going in the opposite direction at that very moment, I wouldn’t see it before my car was flattened. But within two or three seconds — brief, but a long time to be unable to see — I was on the other side of it.

A friend of mine was not so lucky. Almost home, he finally decided he couldn’t risk driving any further in the massive dust clouds and pulled over onto the side of the road not a half-mile from his house. Good thinking, except that others had the same idea. Including the truck that hit him from behind. And the car he was pushed into.

Luckily my friend, a father of four, walked away from the wreck, although his F-150 was totaled. But never again will any of us underestimate the power of that whirling wind.

Memories of Mother

“Mother passed away this morning” was the message that came over the wires, and a darkness overshadowed the spring sunshine; a sadness crept into the birds’ songs.

The world seems a lonesome place when mother has passed away and only memories of her are left us …

This Mother’s Day, these words from Laura Ingalls Wilder resonate. They’re from a 1924 Missouri Ruralist column about the passing of her mother, Caroline Quiner Ingalls.

Two days ago, our claim shanty lost its matriarch – my children’s great-grandmother, Lois. The one ray of sunshine through the darkness of our loss is that like Laura, Lois lived a long and healthy life full of love and full of family.

Laura fans who are mothers, I wish you the happiest of Mother’s Days. And if your mother still graces your life, I wish you many more years with her.

Fire On The Pageant Stage

I’ve been planning a post on the awesomeness of the pageants for a while, even though, frankly, I’m not completely qualified to do so. I’ve seen only the De Smet one, and just one time. But the pageants – large-scale, outdoor plays based on the Little House books –- are a big part of the Laura Ingalls Wilder experience in De Smet, Walnut Grove, and Mansfield (thanks, Nansie!) and one of the most unique experiences a Little House traveler can absorb.

The photos I took of the De Smet pageant weren’t up to snuff, so I leave you with one of the best pageant photos I’ve ever seen, taken in Walnut Grove by fan Susan Gaissert’s husband while she was busy watching. Says Susan:

This photo was taken by my husband, Steve. I was too mesmerized by the whole experience to step out of the moment and use a camera. The photo was taken at the Walnut Grove pageant in 2006. It was a very cozy, homey experience. The entire town seems to take part in it. There are refreshment stands and souvenir stands, but nothing is glitzy or overdone. Everyone there looked so happy. My husband took a picture of me sitting in the audience before the pageant started, and I have never before or since seen myself with such a calm, happy expression on my face. My family will never forget that pageant.

And here’s the fab photo:

 

… prairie fire?

Friday Comment Roundup – May 9, 2008

I first want to ask that you please forgive me if I don’t keep up with comment approval promptly. Sometimes in my eagerness and excitement I forget that I have to approve new posters. I’ll get better.

 

So many of the comments y’all have sent in are too delicious to hide in the comment window, so I’m bringing them out in the sun.

 

Thanks to the fans here, I’ve learned that my favorite typo, the one from Little Town on the Prairie, isn’t in at least one Sewell-illustrated edition.

 

Then Nansie got specific and asked: I don’t see that typo in any of my copies of LTP; which editon/cover are you reading?

 

To which I answer: I’m one of those lazy fans who doesn’t collect different editions, so the only two copies I have in my possession are from the yellow set I was given in the very early 80s and the similar-looking blue set published in 1971 (purchased recently on eBay). I don’t own any single Sewell-illustrated books.

 

Nansie also says: My favorite was the line in TLW that Pa would have to bring in the hay in his teeth, one BALE at a time!!

 

Now that’s the kind of thing my fandom would cause me to overlook. Funny how our brains do that, isn’t it? I bet I found a way to rationalize the use of “bale” there. I’m trying to recall … wasn’t it supposed to be “blade”? It seems I remember reading that in the book I read the most.

 

Susan uncovered an uncanny similarity in the six-degrees realm, which I will quote verbatim, I love it so much:

 

Here’s a “Six Degrees of Separation” kind of thing: another actress has played both the child and “mother” roles in the same story — Patty Duke has played both Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan. And when she played Annie Sullivan, Helen Keller was played by . . . Melissa Gilbert!

 

Jackie, poor girl, admitted to never having read the Little House books. Jackie, I agree with Dakotagirl, you are certainly in for a treat if you do read them. Please report back if you do.

 

Connie, Jonni, and Dakotagirl are all in favor of a group meeting at the Lake Thompson lodge, perhaps next summer. I think this sounds promising and may merit the formation of a committee. What do you think? Maybe I’ll add a link to that here for interested parties on the blog.

 

And Dakotagirl, I do hope you can manage to make it to Malone. I know how hard arranging that kind of travel can be, so my fingers are crossed for you.

 

Connie provided some fabulous insight regarding all her travels to the Little House sites – she may just be the most well traveled Laura Ingalls Wilder fan out there. Her comment is so full of useful travel nuggets that you all should just go and read it in its entirety.

 

And Connie, I promise not to tell my kids about the pancake men in advance! Thanks for the info on wifi in Ward’s – I for one always appreciate knowing that.

 

Sarah Sue reminds us that staying on Ingalls Homestead is the way to guarantee a sunrise experience in De Smet. And both she and Connie make sure we remember the Kingsbury Country Club in De Smet, where I too have eaten a few times. And it’s under new ownership, Connie? Good to know!

 

Amy also responded to my post on “Managing” by shedding new light on Laura’s handling of Clarence at the Brewster School –- a shrewd observation that hadn’t occurred to me:

 

I always thought it was interesting how Laura “punished” Clarence by making him write his spelling words on the blackboard, then later she “rewarded” Ruby by allowing her to write her spelling words on the blackboard. The same task can be a reward or a punishment, depending on how it is presented. Just like Tom Sawyer and the job of whitewashing the fence.

 

I leave you with these lovely thoughts from Connie about the Psalm Laura used to turn to when traveling.

Typo in “Little Town”

Today was a very long day. The post I planned will have to wait. But do check in tomorrow–it’s going to be a veritable comment-fest with responses for everyone.

In the meantime let’s talk typos. I’ve been witness to, if not a participant in, discussions of various typos throughout the Little House series. Even for a copy editor like myself, I admit I haven’t noticed many. The fan in me tells me I simply must be too close to the work to be critical.

But one typo has always rankled me, and I wonder if anyone else has noticed it. It’s in “Mary Goes to College” in Little Town on the Prairie. Mary has gone to, uh, college, escorted by Ma and Pa, who have left the three remaining girls to mind the house in their absence. Laura decides to do the spring cleaning, and at one point, Grace is not-so-helpfully blacking the stove, and she spills the box of blacking. The one-sentence paragraph that follows reads thusly:

“Her blues eyes were filled with tears.”

Kills me every time.

 

Homesite Travel Redux

What a treasure trove of information! I love what you’ve all shared about your Laura Ingalls Wilder travels. We need this kind of collaboration. In just one day:

Dakotagirl reminded us of the Cottage Inn Motel in De Smet, with its reasonable rates, clean rooms, and — what was that? — wifi! Becky confirmed that the nights in the covered wagons on Ingalls Homestead are indeed an amazing experience for kids. Amy L. and Amy R. answered Jonni’s query about Prairie House Manor, and both sing its praises for a top-notch De Smet experience. Susan told us the presence of Dairy Queens were a good indicator of town size between Walnut Grove and De Smet. Jonni tells me she and I will be lodging at the same place in Malone. She’s right — the house will be filled with Laura fans. How fabulous. And thanks to Dennis, we now know to seek out some scrumptious Italian food while we’re there.

Something I didn’t mention in my last post regarding De Smet lodging was the possibility of camping at Lake Thompson. Yes, that Lake Thompson. It’s now part of the South Dakota State Park System. I visited it for the first time way back in 2001 and remember being amazed. The sheer vastness of the lake! The whitecaps! The Lake Thompson in my head was small and calm and serene, just like Lake Henry next to it. (Or so my mind’s eye told me.) According to the web site, just Lake Thompson exists today, and only after going through stages as pasture and then marshland. The lake was so unlike what I expected that when I took my photos, simple images of the lake weren’t good enough. I had to attempt the obligatory self-portrait.

Interesting discovery: Lake Thompson rents out a 12-bed group lodge. Full kitchen, fully furnished. Hmmm. Shall we make note of that for the future?