05-27-11 This is a prayer for everybody in the world

05-27-11

This is a prayer for everybody in the world

290.8 miles

Leaving my nieces place around  9:30 am I check out some thrift stores on the way out of town in case I luck out and fine a camp stove for cheap. No luck. I discover at the second location that I’m missing my cell phone. I check the store I was in. No luck. I think of my options. I can’t call my niece, because I don’t have a phone or her work number. I could get on the internet and hope she is checking in from time to time at work. IF she did,  it could take hours.  I don’t really know where her place of work is but I know where it is in general. I go back to the Red Robin we ate at that was near her work. (I don’t really know where that is either, but I have a Garmin and that gets me there. From there I navigate to the place she’d briefly pointed towards on the way to see a movie which was next to the Red Robin. I turn into a business center and see a sign that lets me know I’ve guessed correctly. There are two  entrances at this location. I figure if the people in the first business don’t recognize her name, the other will. Luck. Not only does the woman at the counter know my nieces name she inquires “Are you Kellie’s Uncle?” I feel like a celebrity  (or a well regarded relative) She introduces me to all her co-workers. Many of them know of my Journey. I am surprised and honored. They seem to be a nice tight knit group of gals and generally happy (it IS a workplace) though very busy with their work.
I get here key and drive back to here place and am happy for the return. Not only do I find my cell (It was on the bottom of a coffee table - back side up), but I realize I’d left Mischa’s plaid blanket behind as well. That is her ‘woobie”. She knows that  that is her “home”, her place, whenever we are out of the car. In a tent, motel room or friends house, wherever I place it , she knows that is Her place.
I  bring my niece back her key and I’m encouraged to bring Mischa (who they are also aware of) to the windows outside the offices (It’s a Medical business, so taking her in would not work out). She is obviously a hit from the sounds of tapings on the window. Neither Mischa nor I can see the people tapping…just part of their hands (it’s a mirrored window). I’m glad they got to see Mischa. She’s the better part of this Journey.

Time to head out on the road. I check the “favorite’s I’ve listed into the Garmin to see which place to head to first. I pick Field of Dreams in Dyersville but also add Buffalo Bill Cody’s childhood homestead as an in route waypoint. It’s about 25- 35 miles north out of Davenport. I drive along for abot 20 miles and then find myself on gravel roads. I hope it’s not for long, but it seems to be destined to be the  medium for the rest of trip to the homestead. I get within about 8 miles of the site when I run into a road block. I punch “Detour” and it wants to take me in the direction of the road closure. I turn to the only direction left to me without back tracking - West and drive for about 2 miles to a northbound road. For a brief period - about 1000 yards - I’m back on paved roads and thinking - this is more like it. I’m passing by some pretty high class homes. There is a road off to the left, also paved, then…suddenly, I’m back on gravel. And remain on it till I’ve snapped shots of the homestead and have returned on the path towards Dyersville. I have to drive about 8 miles before the road is paved again. But the rest of the path is great. I think I’m going to be routed through Dubuque but I’m lead west past a Trappist Monastery and then up to hwy 20 west. I am also lead to a road about 5 miles short of Dyersville. I realize I’m being lead to the Field of Dreams via a back route. Gravel again. But it’s sort of worth it. There are some interesting views and fames along the way and I realize I’ll see what most other people see on the way in when I leave. I see a cheap “knock off” farm about a mile before I get to the real Field of Dreams. It’s a very interesting experience. Fiction and reality overlaping. A father plays catch with his young son. Another pair are playing catch on the right field infield. Are they older son and father or just friends . Doesn’t really matter, they’re “Having a catch”. I’ve talked to the woman working the souvenir stand  and she is telling me about some young kids who came this year with out their father after many years of visiting. He had just died a few months earlier. They came because he had  brought them here so often and wanted  to reconnect to him that way.  At least he got to do that and will always be there for them. She also talked about the economy and healthcare.  How her employers barley pay above minimum wage and provide no healthcare. They are trying to sell the field for millions. They get  money from leasing out the fields to farmers and from the concessions stand. They have excellent health care for themselves but provide nothing for their employees. And visits have dropped off. Gas prices and dropping tourism due to the economy are the main culprits.
I go and explore the field. I sit where Terrance Mann sat and said the “They’ll come, Ray. They’ll most definitely come” speech. I get my picture there with Mischa from both the man playing catch with his young son and the young son. (The young son took the better picture.)
I take pictures of myself “Crossing the line” like “Moonlight (Doc) Graham did. I go to the mound. Then second base. Then I go out into the cornfield. It’s all cut down and I don’t disappear. I don’t see Shoeless Joe (or John Kinchella - or Terrance Mann or even Ty Cobb!)
But I feel…rejuvenated. Like I’ve been drenched in magic waters.
As I leave there I realize I’m not generating anything through my inverter. I need that for my cell, my netbook, my Garmin, my cooler and Lunchbox Stove.
I look up (on the Garmin) a local repair place. I know that it’s about 3:30 pm on Friday of Memorial Day weekend. I got to get this handled now.
I find a place called Auto Tech just about 2 miles east of Dyersville off the 20. I explain to the owner that It’s the cigarette lighter connection and it’s most likely the lighter wires have twisted loose; a fuse has blown or the contact is corroded and not producing a connection. He checks the fuses and the lighter. Good. I look at the tip of the inverter contact and it is corroded, the owner goes in for a small bit of sandpaper and sands it off. I plug it in…twist it a bit…and…the fan finally starts going. The power light is not showing that it’s working…but it IS working. The Owner says “You don’t owe me anything”. I thank him and we’re off. I’m driving down 20 again and NPR has been touting a story on The 5 Sullivans who were all lost together in WWII. Made famous in that moving sequence in Saving Pvt. Ryan and the incident that forever changed how much any family would have to sacrifice for their country in time of war.
It finally comes on as I am passing Waterloo, Ia. I’m stunned moments later when I hear that the Sullivan’s grand daughter now lives in Waterloo. I’m now passing Cedar Falls when I learn that is where the Sullivans were from and their memorial is there. The synchronicity of my Journey astounds me some times. I almost take the off ramp that leads to Cedar Falls.  But this is Memorial Day Weekend and I don’t have a camping reservation. I continue to Eldora with a likely looking campsite called Pine Lake. It’s  not too much further and It’s  close to the freeway. I get there and the camp has a sign that says “Camp Full”. And it is. I haven’t seem this many campers at once since Memorial Day 1993 when I was homeless the first time up at Mt. Madonna  in the Santa Cruz Mountains. I was taking multimedia classes up at Santa Clara and was alternating camping near Mt. Lick and Mt. Madonna. My usually quiet campsite was suddenly flooded with beer swilling yahoos who knew little about camping and less about manners. I enjoyed the distraction thoroughly.
I tried to find the camp hose at Pine Lakes but they had apparently taken the better part of discretion and escaped someplace into town. I checked my AAA camping guide for the next likely place. AAA had a place called Briggs Woods in Webster City, but the Garmin didn’t list it. I called and they said thay had a spot but the hosts/ranger  couldn’t take credit card. And it was still first come, first serve. I couldn’t remotely put my gear down to hold it and they could take my card number but not guarantee a site. I drove as quick as I could to Webster City. I put in the Garmin HyVie grocery store so I could get cash for the camp site. As luck would have it, the HyVie was just off CR 17 with was north of the camp site. I follow it and …no HyVie where the Garmin said it was. Note to self - Garmin is frequently full of shit! I find a Casey’s Depot  gas station and ask where a HyVie market really is explaining I’m trying to get cash back from a purchase for camping money. “You can do that here, but I’ll give you the directions too. You may want something from them tomorrow.” I but some things and eventually get the cash I need I forgot I’d bought something earlier and had to do cash back twice to get the $16 for tonight.
I follow the Garmin to the park and am a bit unsure I’m going the right way. It’s leading me to a golf course called Briggs Woods…I drive a little further and (To my relief) find information about park grounds just below. Add to that a ranger is coming my way. I flag him down. He leads me to the pay station where I meet the camp host (and find I’ve just secured the very last tent site) and the ranger drives me to my spot. It is a nice area and even though the park is full with memorial Weekend campers there seems ample room. I talk with Ranger Scott a bit longer about the camp and my journey and then start to set up camp. Mischa is immediately making friends…by barking at a bigger dog nearby. The dogs owner is friendly and our camping neighbor. I meet the other dog named Nicky. I proceed to put up the tent and settle in. I plan to catch up on writing if it kills me. I plg in and just out of curiosity check to see if anyone nearby is running internet that I can connect to. I’m stunned to see that there ar a few choices…one of them (the most powerful signal) is “open”! It is the campsites wifi. I can’t believe it, but am happy they have it. I post today’s pictures of the Field of Dreams  and other places and learn that a good writer and college friend is about to embark on a similar journey . He’s lost his home due to the economy and is going to be living out of his car. He asks me for tips. I give as many as I can think of thinking this is unthinkable. He has two young sons. They won’t be with him. I hope he has very good fortune soon. He self published a book over a year ago and gave me the thought that I could do this because he’d gotten his book on Amazon and was starting on a second.
I also see that it is Tim Finn and Leland Sklar’s Birthdays. I send Leland the annual B-day wishes and post some Tim Finn songs.
I also learn that Gil Scott-Heron has died. I was in a Music Plus on 19th St. in Costa Mesa when I first heard The last Poets do “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” It was the same day I first heard Elton John’s “Your Song” and Funkadelic’s “Maggot Brain“. Talk about a heady brew. They all scared me and thrilled me at the same time. “revolution” for it’s imagery, threat and humor; Your Song for it’s pop lameness…that somehow I couldn’t resist; and Maggot for Eddie Hazel’s stunning guitar and the opening recitation.
Time has gone a far piece since that day, but Gil Scott-Heron was like Oscar Brown, Jr. in that they both exposed their realities to me and I knew them as truths. I got incite to discrimination, anger and love and style. I feel it a great loss that I had on a few occasions seen that they were playing and lacked the money or courage to see them live. I love and honor their music and words and humor and their love of humanity.
They are both gone now, but their music, words, artistry and humanity will live always in my soul.
And I went to sleep hearing a woman complain that it was 11:30 on Memorial day weekend and people weren’t staying up late!
During the night I’d hear scattered talks around campfires, I’d punch my space heater on for a few minutes, turn it off; hear someone snoring…and zone out.