From Sioux Falls to a Straight River

THE MONARCH OF THE PLAINS (AKA THE AMERICAN BISON OR BUFFALO).

We spent the weekend in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and enjoyed a gathering of Jerry's extended family on Sunday.  Monday morning, we headed off in the car for a week in Minneapolis, Minnesota. But, on the way out of Sioux Falls, we stopped at Falls Park, a beautiful place northeast of downtown on the Sioux River.

LOVE THAT MUDDY WATER.

The park was developed in the 1990s and improvements continue to be made.  The 1908 Sioux Falls Light and Power Company hydroelectric plant is now the Falls Overlook Cafe.  It's got a great menu, charming spaces to sit and relax, picture and history books to browse, historic photos, and gourmet coffees. Jerry's maternal grandfather worked in that very building beginning in the 1930s; he would have appreciated a good cup of coffee at the time.

THE HYDROELECTRIC PLANT: NOW, FALLS OVERLOOK CAFE.

Sioux Falls was still a young city at the time the hydroelectric plant was built, having been founded in 1857.  South Dakota became a state in 1889 — although most of my New York family still think Jerry grew up in Dakota Territory or, as my father used to say, "the Dakotas."

THE RUINS OF THE OLD QUEEN BEE WHEAT MILL IN THE CENTER BACKGROUND.
OPENED IN 1881.  CLOSED IN 1883.  DESTROYED BY FIRE IN 1956.

The old plant and other structures were built from the beautiful Sioux quartzite mined right there at the prison quarry on the river.  Prisoners from the prison on the bluff overlooking the falls mined the quartzite and then used horse-drawn wagons to haul the dressed blocks of stone up the bluff to add onto the prison and to create the wall that replaced the original wood stockade.

JOHN MORRELL & CO. MEAT PACKING PLANT VIEWED BEHIND THE PARK'S VISITOR CENTER.

Adjacent to the park is John Morrell & Co., founded in England in 1827 and considered to be the oldest continuously operating meat manufacturer in the U.S.  Jerry's mother, father, and several aunts and uncles all worked there at some time.

JERRY'S MORRELL MEATS TOY TRUCK.  PURCHASED BY HIS MOTHER IN THE EARLY 1950s.
DONATED TO CHARITY IN EARLY 2011.

Jerry remembers taking tours of the plant when he was a kid.  "Tony" gave the tours and you could actually walk on catwalks and observe the animals being slaughtered.  I'm glad they don't do that anymore.  A little bit of trivia from Jerry:  The sheep were led to slaughter by a goat (because sheep would willingly follow goats).  So, the goat was called the "Judas Goat."

ONE QUICK PHOTO OUTSIDE MORRELL'S — THE STENCH WAS INTOLERABLE!

We left Sioux Falls, South Dakota, late morning for our 262-mile (422-km) drive to Minneapolis, Minnesota, where we now enjoy the city and incredible friends.  On the drive up through Minnesota yesterday, after stopping along the way for lunch, gas, and to wash more bug guts off the windshield, we made a final potty stop at a rest area about an hour south of the city.  We probably would have stopped at this particular rest area whether we had to go or not.

REST AREA ON THE STRAIGHT RIVER IN MINNESOTA.  WE USED THE FACILITIES.
NO ONE CHALLENGED US.

One Last Pass Through the City of Mitchell, South Dakota

"A ONE AND A TWO..."  LAWRENCE WELK.  A CORN PALACE ICON BORN AND RAISED
IN THE GERMAN-SPEAKING TOWN OF STRASBURG, NORTH DAKOTA. 

Jerry and I drove today to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, for a family get together on Sunday.  It's about a 4-hour drive from Pierre and on the way — about 3 hours into the trip — we passed through the city of Mitchell, South Dakota.  It seemed only appropriate that we stop in Mitchell, my namesake, one last time before our move to Spain.

THIS YEAR'S THEME.  OVER THE TOP WITH PATRIOTISM, CONSERVATISM, AND CHRISTIANITY.

Mitchell, South Dakota, is the home of the Mitchell Corn Palace.  It is proudly billed as the "world's only corn palace" and hosts stage shows and sporting events in its arena.  The original Corn Palace, called "The Corn Belt Exposition" was established in 1892. Early settlers displayed the fruits of their harvest on the building's exterior in order to prove the fertility of South Dakota soil. The current building was completed in 1921.

TWO OF THE SIDE "MOSAICS."
WHAT'S MORE AMERICAN THAN APPLE PIE AND UNCLE SAM?

The Corn Palace is a classic example of American kitsch.  But the detail and workmanship is very impressive since all the mosaics are created using corn and grains.  The latest art is still in progress.

THE STREETS OF MITCHELL  COWBOYS, GAMBLING HALLS, SALOONS, AND MORE.

In the past, I've enjoyed the artwork on the Corn Palace.  But this time, I was a bit put off by the two separate panels depicting Christians (and only Christians) — the cross prominently displayed — preparing to worship with their families; and the ultra-patriotic (which I should expect and be used to, I suppose) panels depicting conservatism and American chauvinism... subjects that make me extremely uncomfortable.

ON THE WAY OUT OF TOWN.  AN ENORMOUS FIBERGLASS COW. 
MAKES YOU WANT TO RUN TO CHEF LOUIE'S FOR A STEAK, DOESN'T IT?

But, back to the kitsch!  The Mitchell Corn Palace was a big deal when Jerry was growing up.  He remembers going there with his entire family — his grandparents, parents, and sisters — in the early 1960s to see Lawrence Welk and his orchestra perform.  For my New York City family, The Lawrence Welk Show, was entertaining, but primarily as comic relief (my sister and I would imitate the singers and dancers), although he did admittedly retain very talented musicians.  For Jerry's South Dakota family, Lawrence Welk and his "champagne music" were high art.  So, the idea that they were able to see Lawrence Welk perform live at the Corn Palace was very exciting.  Even more exciting for Jerry was the day during his junior high school years when Myron Floren, Lawrence Welk's accordion player, came to Jerry's church choir rehersal to perform.  So, as a little bonus, I thought I'd end with a video of Lawrence Welk with Myron Floren playing the Dakota Polka.

Golfing the Water Hazard

I don't golf.  Jerry does; well, did.  There was a fairly large lake (aka water hazard) at Yale Golf Course that I remember Jerry talking about.  He said he would prefer to automatically take the penalty, walk around the lake, drop his ball on the ground, and continue playing rather than bother wasting his and everyone's time — not to mention golf balls — popping balls into the water.  I apologize to golfers for my lack of correct terminology.  I don't know if you even pop balls in golf (I know you can pop them in baseball).  I did, however, just look up the rules for golfing at a water hazard.  The rules state:  "When a ball is hit into a water hazard, the player may also drop a ball, behind the water hazard, on a line of sight between the hole and where the ball last crossed the margin of the hazard (no closer to the hole), at a penalty of one stroke."  This is one of many reasons I don't play golf.

Anyway, a fellow golfer once suggested to Jerry that he just throw his ball across the lake, which had Jerry laughing since that would probably cost him even more strokes... and golf balls.

HILLSVIEW WATER HAZARD (FORMERLY HILLSVIEW GOLF COURSE), PIERRE, S. DAK.

We drove over today to see Pierre's Hillsview Golf Course.  Hillsview is now basically one large water hazard.

Pierre, South Dakota

SOUTH DAKOTA'S CAPITOL BUILDING.

We spent part of the day puttering in Pierre.  Jerry and I had coffee at Pier 347, the local café.  We were told yesterday when we ordered iced café Americanos and then tried to describe how we liked them (Jerry knows a good café Americano — made by adding hot water to espresso — when he tastes one) that what we were describing was what they called a café latte (which, as I understand it, is supposed to be espresso made with steamed milk,  and nothing like an Americano).

MEMORIAL BRONZE NEXT TO THE CAPITOL.

Well, OK.  So, we ordered two half-caff (half decaffeinated) café lattes.  What we received were two decent coffees that were neither café lattes nor café Americanos.  And they were a bit weak.  So, today we ordered two double-shot café lattes and we received two better coffees (a bit similar to our café Amerianos).  And, yes, Jerry and I have been living on the West Coast way too long and get carried away with our coffee orders.  The month in Spain in January was very relaxing — dos cafés con leche, por favor!  We'll learn.

AGGRESSIVE AMERICAN EAGLE AT THE WAR MEMORIAL.

Along with his coffee, Jerry has been getting Pier 347's bagel bites (deep-fried lumps of bagel dough).  But, until I explained it to him last night, he thought he had gotten doughnut holes and couldn't figure out why these doughnut holes were so peculiar (not that the idea of a doughnut "hole" isn't peculiar in the first place).

CAPITOL BUILDING LOBBY.  VERY IMPRESSIVE FOR A STATE OF ONLY 814,000 PEOPLE.

After coffee, I dropped Jerry off at the South Dakota Cultural Heritage Center, which houses the state archives.  Jerry spent the next two hours looking up dead relatives.  I wandered (drove and walked) around town taking pictures.  All the streets along the river are now blocked off with sandbags and barricades.  The parks and related buildings along the river are completely under water.  Downtown buildings are pumping water out of their basements and hoping the river doesn't overflow the berms and sandbags.

THIS DIDN'T START OUT AS A WATER PARK.

The capitol building is high above the river, so I was able to roam the parks and the halls.  I tried to get pictures of the senate chambers, but the doors were locked and no one was home.  Anyway, most of the members probably wouldn't appreciate a visit from a former West Coast, ultra-liberal lefty who's getting ready to leave the country.

PIONEER WOMAN AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE CULTURAL HERITAGE CENTER.

The Cultural Heritage Center is a beautiful, contemporary building built into the hillside, and it's surrounded by natural prairie grass (which has just started growing for the season) instead of neatly mowed lawns.  I'm not enamored with the bronze sculpture out front, but I do like the fact that it's dedicated to the "pioneer women of South Dakota."

SANDBAGS AND HAY BALES DOWNTOWN.  WHATEVER IT TAKES.

It's Always Nice to Get Approval

We received the exciting news today from the Spanish Consulate in Los Angeles that our visa applications have been approved!  We just need to pick them up.  So, it's now real.  We will be in Spain mid-July. 

We are so grateful to the Los Angeles Consulate for their well-designed and information-rich website.  We are also grateful to the staff who so quickly responded via email to our questions while we were trying to understand the complex application process.  And we are especially grateful to the people who greeted us so warmly and professionally, and then reviewed and processed our applications.  We can't wait to become absorbed in Spanish life and culture!

The Missouri River

The Oahe Dam along the Missouri River just north of Pierre, South Dakota, forms the fourth largest artificial reservoir in the United States.

BEAUTIFUL VIEWS DOWNRIVER FROM THE DAM, BUT MUCH MORE RIVER THAN USUAL.

The dam produces electricity for much of the north-central US.  Sadly, after years of drought, the reservoir is now too high and gates are being opened, flooding Fort Pierre on the west side of the river and any low-lying areas of Pierre to the east.

THE FLOOD GATES.  WE STOPPED SHORT OF THE TALL GRASS, HOME TO RATTLESNAKES.

Linda and Tom spent several days last week sandbagging to help friends and neighbors protect their homes.  The Army Corps of Engineers keeps increasing the amount of water being released, with another big jump this morning. We drove down to the dam yesterday afternoon and couldn't believe the power of the water being released.  We could feel the ground vibrate beneath our feet.  The parking lot and visitor walkways were engulfed.

NO SKINNY DIPPING.  DOWNTOWN PIERRE.  SANDBAGGED, PLUS BRIDGES AND FLOWER BOXES.

Many homes have already been lost.  More will be lost, but others may survive due to huge berms still being built and aggressive sandbagging.  Pierre's downtown businesses are prepared for the worst.  We love Pierre.  Well, admittedly, we love visiting our family in Pierre and we tend to tease them about their choice of hometown — 95F (35C) and 95 percent humidity in summer, minus 40F (-40C) in winter; and the winds blow most of the time.  But the Capitol district is beautiful.  (I'll post pictures soon.)  With a population of about 13,000, and with South Dakota's largest city, Sioux Falls (population 153,000), 225 miles (362 km) away, and only much smaller towns in-between, there's not a lot to do around here (at least from the perspective of this city kid).  The most common activities in Pierre during summer are fishing, camping, and golfing.  The campgrounds and golf courses are now under water.  Fishing is unsafe.  It all makes for very tough times for a lot of people. 

NO FISHING.  GOLF COURSES ARE UNDER WATER.  NOT MUCH TO DO.

From Wyoming to South Dakota

We arrived this afternoon in the capital of South Dakota, Pierre (pronounced PEER).  We drove the final 200 miles (322 km) today and arrived in the center of the state.

FOUR OF SOUTH DAKOTA'S GREAT FACES.

Saturday, we drove 558 miles (898 km) from Evanston,Wyoming, to Deadwood, South Dakota. 

OUTSIDE GREEN RIVER, WYOMING.

That was added to our 268 miles (431 km) Thursday and 489 miles (787 km) Friday.  We surprised ourselves... and everyone else by taking only four days to get here.  We stopped often.  When the gas tank would get down to half, we'd stop to fill up and clean the bug guts from the windshield... and make potty stops and get treats for Jerry.  I don't know how we survived before GPS.  My iPhone worked overtime finding Starbuck's (few and far between in these parts).  (We'd be going to Peet's, but there aren't any out here at all.)

PRONGHORN GRAZING OUTSIDE A MORMON CRAFTS CENTER.
WE WERE NEARLY POUNCED ON FOR THE ADMISSION BEFORE WE TURNED AROUND.

We had amazing sightings of pronghorns along the way and I wish I had my camera to get better pictures.  They're commonly called pronghorn antelope, but it turns out they're not really antelope at all since there really is no native species of antelope in North America.  So much for "where the deer and the antelope play." We'll all continue to call them antelope.

SOUTHERN WYOMING.  LOOK CLOSELY FOR THE PRONGHORNS.

As far as spending the night in Deadwood...  It's a gambling town.  Linda and Tom drove 2-1/2 hours to meet us there and also spent the night.  We gambled.  Those "earnings" Jerry had from our stay in Vegas (the ones that were supposed to pay for our drive from Irvine to Pierre) were re-invested — badly — in Deadwood.  Oh well.  Easy come.  Easy go.  The story of of our lives.

FULL THROTTLE SALOON IN STURGIS.  IT WILL BE HOPPING DURING THE RALLY.

After leaving Deadwood, we passed through the town of Sturgis — famous for the annual motorcycle rally.  From my perspective, it's a real cowboy town, but not a very pretty one.  And it's especially scary around the time of the rally.  We stopped for gas, cleaned the bug guts off the windshield and headed for Pierre.

We feasted on steaks; skewered peppers and onions; and asparagus.  All barbecued.  The car is unloaded and the camera is unpacked.  And the car sits in the driveway covered in bug guts.

From California to Wyoming

We have made it across California, through Nevada, the northwest corner of Arizona, a long stretch of Utah, and into the southwestern corner of Wyoming.  We're spending the night in the town of Evanston, Wyoming, population 12,000-give-or-take.  We just had a fairly mediocre dinner and both look forward to a good night's sleep.

WHERE WE RECEIVED A LOVELY PARTING GIFT.

We left Irvine Thursday afternoon and left Las Vegas behind this morning — after a brief stop at Red Rock Casino where I napped and Jerry gambled, earning enough to pay for our entire drive to South Dakota!  I usually don't encourage Jerry in this vice (because he needs no encouragement), but NICE JOB, JERRY!

My camera is packed safely somewhere in the car.  I have a knack for putting things "safely" away.  Unfortunately, they're usually so safe that even I can't find them.  I know where the camera is this time.  It's in a suitcase at the very bottom of the Rubik's cube Jerry brilliantly created to get our stuff to South Dakota.  So, photos from my iPhone will have to do as I chronicle our road trip.

LEAVING LAS VEGAS.

We drove about 490 miles today, most of it through breathtaking scenery.  We plan to make our way tomorrow from here in the southwest corner of Wyoming diagonally across the state and leaving via the northeast corner — another 562 miles, I think.  We'll cross into South Dakota and settle in Sturgis (home of the annual motorcycle rally) for the night, which means we should make it into Pierre, South Dakota early-ish Sunday.  We're sure everyone is in shock, since we're known for making what should be a 2-hour-drive into a 6-hour drive.  To be honest, we surprised ourselves today.  Can't wait to get out of this altitude.  We're not good at 7,000 feet (2,100 meters).

UTAH FROM THE PASSENGER SEAT.

Setting Sail... Or Setting Ourselves Temporarily and Happily Adrift

BEFORE CRATING THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK.

The packers/movers were here Tuesday. Our stuff — what remains of our stuff — is about to set sail for Europe. We, on the other hand, will hit the road for South Dakota Thursday. We're looking forward to not having to do anything but drive for a few days.  Today, while the final truckload was hauled away (this one for the consignment center), we shuttled stuff down to the garage in prep for loading in the car, returned cable boxes, dropped off gifts of household goods for friends, returned old license plates to the DMV, cleaned house, and still managed to find time to relax with our coffee and newspapers at Peet's and get completely cool haircuts in the afternoon. 

BETTER THAN "NO" SEXY.

Jerry — still having hair — actually DID get a cool haircut.  Mine is what it is, slick on the sides and lonely on top.  When we arrived at the salon, Jerry noticed a product called "Big Sexy" (which I assumed was for "big" hair).  A few shelves below, I noticed a product called "Short Sexy" (which I assumed was for "short" hair).  I wondered what they called the product I would need — for no hair.  "No Sexy"?  But, I left with some style today and, to my surprise, a headful of "Short Sexy."  I've still got it!

ON ITS WAY TO SPAIN...
SO WE'LL HAVE A PLACE TO HANG OUR HATS.

We checked into our local La Quinta Inn(s & Suites) Sunday afternoon.  It's been very pleasant.  Irvine's La Quinta was created from an old bean and grain factory.  Since it's a historic landmark, the building itself is very cool (although the rooms remind you you're still in a La Quinta Inn).

THE CURRENT LOCATION OF THE SWIMMING POOL.

We strolled over to Tia Juana's (right next door in more of the old factory) Tuesday night for dinner.  Great music and phenomenal salmon tacos!

KIND OF MADE US FORGET WE WERE STILL IN STEPFORD... I MEAN IRVINE.

So, tomorrow we tie up some loose ends, load the car, and start our road trip to South Dakota.  Farewell, Stepford (I MEAN Irvine!)...  Several steps closer to Spain!

A Sketch and a Doodle

I used to sketch and doodle wherever I went.  Sadly, the sketching stopped a long time ago. The doodling continued, unabated, through every boring business meeting and conference call.  I am now itching to begin sketching again.

DOODLING RUN AMOK.

While going through some more of my "stuff" this morning, I came across an old pocket-sized sketchbook containing a quick study I did in San Juan, Puerto Rico, in November 1981.  It's not much, but it brought back memories of lounging poolside with Jerry three months into our story.  It was a time when Jerry still wore a Speedo and I was still (blissfully ignorant) striving for the perfect tan.

MEMORIES OF SPEEDOS AND SUNTANS.

Globetrotting with Olivia de Lopez

Of the special things we're taking with us to Spain, Olivia de Lopez is one of our favorites.  Olivia, after being found by our friend Judy, spent her first years at the entrance to Judy's parents idyllic cabin on Lopez Island in the San Juan Islands north of Seattle.  After a winding drive through tall trees, lush rhododendrons, and scatterings of daffodils, we were greeted by Olivia's weathered and haunting visage.  Judy named her.

OLIVIA'S ORIGINAL HOME ON LOPEZ ISLAND.

Late in life, Judy's father decided to sell the cabin on Lopez.  It was right around the time Jerry and I opened Viola's Resort in Palm Springs.  On Judy's first visit, she brought Olivia with her and we immediately placed her right inside the main gate.  It was a drastic change for Olivia — going from cool, shady, and damp to hot, sunny, and arid — but she adjusted perfectly.

OLIVIA DE LOPEZ.  IRVINE, CALIFORNIA.

Olivia traveled with us from Palm Springs to Santa Barbara to Las Vegas and, until last week, she watched over us from an eight-foot height in our kitchen here in Irvine.  She is now waiting to be packed for her longest voyage yet, to Malaga.  Given her Spanish heritage (the name, the name), it seems fitting.

OLIVIA AMONG FRIENDS.  GETTING READY TO SAIL TO SPAIN.

Gathering No Moss

Jerry and I are avid gardeners.  (Jerry, truthfully, is a frustrated farmer.)  Sadly, that doesn't mesh well with our lives forever on the move.  We work insanely to get our gardens laid out and planted just the way we like and we then move before we ever see them mature.  We planted 43 irises in Connecticut one autumn and then moved before seeing them come up in the spring.  At that same house, we hauled in 6 cubic yards of soil and created raised hosta beds under a stand of 75-foot-tall Black Tupelo trees.  The hosta beds were expected to take about four years to reach a respectable maturity.  We moved a year later.  Fortunately, after planting hundreds of daffodils to join the already hundreds of daffodils throughout the gardens, we stayed long enough to see those hundreds multiply into a thousand or more.

A LITTLE BIT OF PARADISE IN SAN DIEGO.

We dug up our 1/4-acre in San Diego, rented a gas-powered two-person auger to drill holes in the hard pan (also known as ouklip, the cement-like soil common just below the surface), so we could plant giant timber bamboo along one fence, hauled in dirt and gravel for the rest, created a mini xeriscape paradise for ourselves, and then moved after only two seasons.  The growing season is long and our plants thrived, so we did manage to enjoy the fruits of our labors during that brief time.  We drove by the house recently and were very proud of our work — the ground covers, miniature bottle brushes, purple hopseed bush hedge, the 15-foot-tall yucca out front, the two giant dracaenas flanking the entrance, and the now-50-foot-tall stand of bamboo out back.  We hope the current owners appreciate what we created.  Sadly, they trim most things to within an inch of their lives (a lollypop jungle); few natural shapes allowed in that garden.

CITY LIFE.

We drove by our old hotel property in Palm Springs a few months ago.  The landscaping we did there is finally lush, enormous and spectacular... 10 years later.

LIKE LIVING IN A TREE HOUSE.

Although we've been renting a small apartment here in Irvine for the last couple of years, we filled our balcony with plants — a 6-foot-tall ficus, wax-leaf privet, palm, philodendron, succulents of different stripes (well... varieties).  Inside, a spectacular Ming aralia graced the dining room, a rare fern took over the bakers rack in the kitchen.  Out on the balcony, the table and chairs, the outdoor carpet, and all the statuary (the dancing frogs, the alligator, the pig, the Mexican figures) have all been placed in new homes.   The plants continue to thrive, blissfully ignorant of the fact that they could at any moment be tossed aside, passed on (we hope, to loving and more stable homes).

THE MING ARALIA MINUTES BEFORE WE CARRIED IT AWAY.

Sunday night, we brought those two remaining houseplants to a good friend not too far away.  She has award-winning gardens.  More importantly, she is loyal and steadfast.  She will not desert them.  Our neighbors took the wax-leaf privet.  Their balcony is small, so that's all they can manage.  Besides, they told me they both have black thumbs when it comes to plants.  The privet is hardy.  Perhaps it will forgive us.

THIS BEGAN 1-1/2 YEARS AGO IN A TINY POT AT ONE END OF THE SHELF.
IGNORANCE, APPARENTLY, WAS BLISS.

We can't wait to get settled in Spain so we can start planting again.