ROAD TRIPS
My girlfriend broke up with me because I'm boring.
That wasn't the only reason. I'm also narrow-minded, ill-tempered, prudish and set in my ways. Plus I don't appreciate good graphic design. When she had to come up with a wine label for an art class, I suggested a picture of a bunch of grapes. That was the beginning of the end.
Actually, our end was written in our beginning, just like the Great Gatsby, but I was too boring to notice. As a result, instead of breaking up five years sooner, we beat on, like boats against the current. Or something.
Anyway, I'm boring.
She was right about that. I don't live enough. The other day she was at my house trying to get me to have fun. "Let your hair down," she said. And "Loosen up." And, my favorite, "Let your freak flag fly." I don't know what that means exactly. Freak flag. It has something to do with uninhibited fun, I imagine, but it's something more. It got me thinking about my inner freak. And I came to the conclusion that I don't have an inner freak. Hence no flag. With me, the freak you see is the freak you get. And that's not much.
My ex was in Kansas because she's driving across the country with her new puppy, Pip. Pip is part golden retriever and part German shepherd. Beth crashed at my house a few days, then hit the road. Here are some of our recent phone conversations that really underscore my boringness, in case you are having a hard time believing it.Conversation 1:
Beth: Hey, what are you up to?
Kim: Nothing.What are you up to?
Beth: I'm swimming in the Atlantic Ocean with Pip.
Conversation 2:
Beth: Hey, what are you up to?
Kim: Nothing.What are you up to?
Beth: I'm exploring Colonial Williamsburg, then I'm going to Jamestown.
Conversation 3
Beth: Hey, what are you up to?
Kim: Nothing.What are you up to?
Beth: Driving through Illinois. I just visited Abe Lincoln's log cabin.
Conversation 4:
Beth: Hey, what are you up to?
Kim: Nothing.What are you up to?
Beth: Driving through the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve. All the rangers here are women. It rocks.
Conversation 5:
Beth: Hey, what are you up to?
Kim: Nothing.What are you up to?
Beth: Driving around Salt Lake City, waiting for this rockin' lesbian Mormon bar to open. I think that so-called Great Salt Lake dries up in summer. I can't find it. (Insert "Dumb and Dumber" reference: "I thought the Rockies would be a lot rockier. That John Denver is full of shit.")
Conversation 6
Beth: Hey, what are you up to?
Kim: Nothing.What are you up to?
Beth: Crossing this mountain pass with Pip.
You get the picture. Pip is more fun than I am.
It's true.
But it's one thing to be boring and another thing to be boring and not know it. That is the worst kind of boring.
But if you're boring AND you know it, clap your hands. Because there is hope for you. Just today I used my self-awareness and decided to be less boring. Here's what I did: I visited my friends Erin and Ben at their house in Newton on Monday night. We didn't have one boring moment. I brought my Deluxe Edition Scrabble game, and we didn't even play it because we had too much other fun stuff to do, like repotting a plant and cooking a vegetarian meal and watching a video of the 2004 barbershop quartet championship.
But that's not the point. I always have fun with Ben and Erin. We complement one another's boringness. Like I was telling Erin about Beth's trip, how she was just driving all over the country, carefree, without a destination, and Erin matter-of-factly said, "I'd rather stay home."
Too bad Erin's taken.
If she were available and gay and not way too good for me and 10 years older and lived in Massachusetts, I would have proposed to her on the spot.
Another time I was telling her about a museum exhibit, and she said she wasn't really interested, and I said but it's a really cool museum, and she said it wasn't the museum that she would mind but "the going there."
Excellent.
Anyway, that's not the point. The point is there's only one Erin, and realistically if I ever want another girlfriend, I have to be less boring. So here's what I did when I left their house: Instead of driving straight home, I took a little detour off Highway 50. At the Highway 177 junction, you can go north into the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve, as Beth recently did, or you can go south to the twin burgs of Strong City and Cottonwood Falls. Being an adventurer now, I took the road less traveled and headed south. Here's what I saw on my journey:
Downtown Cottonwood Falls, which boasts "a brick street so wide you can turn a horse-drawn carriage around on it." Or a Trans-Am. Like this one, which was collecting dust at an abandoned filling station on Broadway.
The Chase County Courthouse: the oldest courthouse in Kansas still in operation. Made of native limestone and walnut. A sign in front says it was built in the 1870s by John G. Haskell, who also built the courthouse and a bunch of other stuff in Douglas County, where I live. This kid cycled around the courthouse six times while I was there. Once he waved to me. Nice folks, these Cottonwood Fallsians. Too bad the city missed the boat because the lines of commerce — highways and railroads and such — bypassed it.
The abandoned Strong City train depot. Apparently Strong City and Cottonwood Falls, just down the road, were linked by some sort of 19th century public transit system that was considered cutting edge at the time. Now the only business this depot sees is a weekend Farmers Market. With actual farmers, I imagine.
Dave’s Place in Strong City. I wanted to get a soda here, but I was a bit scared of an old guy on the bench out front. I was afraid he’d look askance at my Birkenstocks. Or say something hostile to me like, “You’re not from here, are you?” The Strong Citians, I felt, lacked the warmth of their Cottonwood Falls cousins. And yet I did find evidence of a sense of humor:
This, I imagine, refers to clothes lines. Probably every few years someone falls for it, like I almost did, and makes a serious inquiry, only to be laughed out of town. That cowboy on the railing looks poised to slap his knee and guffaw at some city slicker's expense.
A typical house on Main Street with all the amenities. Trampoline with safety rails. Satellite dish that has seen better days. I wondered what the place was like when all that stuff was new and shiny and bursting with the promise of fun.We’ll never be bored now.
So that’s the first day of my new, exciting life. Actually, just the first 20 minutes, which is all the detour I had time for. I had to get home for my nap. Next time I'll go north on Highway 177. As Erin says, wish me luck.
posted by kc @ 11:43 PM
29 comments
29 Comments:
Inside the courthouse (which is the oldest courthouse in operation in the Midwest--don't shortchange it!), there are photographs of various locations in Chase County. Old limestone ranches, the trolley system (which someone purchased and installed in Hawaii when it was discontinued), the courthouse being built, the real Knute Rockne memorial near Bazaar (his name is pronounced kuh-noot, by the way), a flood or two, and the Budweiser Clydesdales on that wide brick street.
I'm much less adventurous than you. I've been through Strong City and Cottonwood Falls dozens of times, and I've only stopped at the one chain gas station in each (and the courthouse, of course, but that's only because I had to stop there in order to litigate my cases). I've thought about stopping at the Strong City strip club, but I'm guessing that it sucks (and not literally).
And one of the most exciting things for me on K-177 is the KDOT mileage sign that spells Cassoday as "Cassody."
Oh yes, I should add 1873 as the date for the courthouse. A history site I found says the Chase County courthouse is the state's finest remaining example of the Second Empire style, "characterized by the distinctive shape of the roof." It also notes that there were several courthouses like this in Kansas, one of which was the Greenwood County one in Eureka, a "virtual twin to the Chase County Courthouse." It was built at the same time but was torn down in the 1950s. I'd like to see Green County's present courthouse.
You're NOT boring, but why don't you do the 30-day writing challenge like George and me? That way you can tell people you're working on your novel. And then, no matter whate else happens in your life, you can look back and say, "I'm a novelist. I wrote a novel."
It's really fun and pushes your creativity, too.
That's OK. I misspelled "what."
OK, copy editor friends, it's your JOB to tell me that I misspelled "burg." Cottonwood Falls and Strong City are not twin BERGS, i.e., giant hunks of ice, but twin BURGS.
Hehe, cl, my comment appeared AFTER yours because I left out a word that rendered my rebuke nonsensical. So I had to delete and repost.
cl, for the novel thing, do the 30 days have to be in a row?
Yes, or you'll never finish. You've just got to buckle down and go. It's really about two hours a day, or less if you have a fit of writing on your weekend. (And hey, I did mine with two-day weekends.)
Yeah, kc, I could loan you the novel-writing book, but I can' seem to find it.
Your frek flag -- is that like having a gay man inside you screaming to get out? Which reminds me: I was telling someone the other day that I keep finding that we have a lot in common, or at least very similar tastes, so that you're like a much better version of me. So if you're boring, what does that make me?
And I've driven to three corners of the U.S. Doesn't beat an afternoon in east Lawrence on your porch. (Then again, I guess it depends on who you're with.)
"Another time I was telling her about a museum exhibit, and she said she wasn't really interested, and I said but it's a really cool museum, and she said it wasn't the museum that she would mind but 'the going there.' "
Erin, I concur: You rock.
Embrace the boring! So-called "excitement" is highly overrated.
Right back at you, G.
Also, regarding courthouses: Harvey County tore down its original courthouse in the 1960s. You be the judge:
Old courthouse
New courthouse
Holy shit, that's a CRIME. What an abomination to tear down that beautiful building and replace it with that utilitarian, soul-deadening crackerbox. Courthouses should be grand. AND OLD BUILDINGS SHOULD BE MAINTAINED AND HONORED.
This reminds me of a game my sister bought for 25 cents at a garage sale. You had to read a multiple choice question silently, then write down what you thought another player would answer. Then, if they chose the answer that you wrote down, you got a point. I read the question, having to answer for my mom, that went: What is this person's ideal vacation?
a. a tour of the museums of Europe
b. relaxing on the beach
c. visiting the wild west
d. seeing the Great Wall of China
I wrote down "stay at home," then read the question out loud to my mom. She looked perplexed, then said, "but I don't want to go to any of those places! I want to stay home."
We never played that game again. It was dumb.
Yeah, Sara, I can see how that game might not be ideal with people you know really well. I can also see how it might even lead to some fights. Hehe
Greenwood County's courthouse is significantly uglier than Harvey County's. It's uglier than Coffey County's or even Morris County's.
Now Morris County's courthouse -- there's a travesty. An ass-wart of a building in Council Grove, the most historic town in Kansas! Hell, it's across the street from the Last Chance Store, a 150 year old tiny limestone building that used to be the last place to stop for supplies on the trail for hundreds of miles!
The worst has to be Florida's Capitol. With the skyscraper between the two domes, driving west on Apalachee Parkway you can't help but think of the Homer Simpson quote:
"Florida?! But that's America's Wang!"
Gosh, that's a lot of adjectives.
So you do this sad song and dance pretending to be all boring, and then what, you write about architecture? Like who is going to buy your act? Only boring people think that architecture is boring.
Kansas hasn’t been populated all that long, but longer than most of California. That means there are few old buildings out here. I particularly notice this with the churches. Christianity has very little to offer, but at least there was a time when most denominations had enough self-respect to put up decent or even beautiful churches. All of those small towns in Kansas had them, and most still do. People might tear down a great courthouse to replace it with crap, but at least they don’t replace churches that way.
There were few congregants here in the middle of California during the era of attractive church building. So maybe this state is at the forefront of the bad churches boom. Many small congregations give in to the reality that they are merely second rate retail and just rent space at a strip mall. The bigger ones do show some aspirations. They build churches along the interstate and seem to all use architectural plans recycled from the headquarters of the mid-size techie corporate headquarters just down the road.
By the way, that Harvey County Courthouse is the same building that I went to grade school in. Does the courthouse have little 18 inch high desks?
Oh, Ricky, be a sport, darling. Buy my act. And light me a cigarette, would you? No one understands me like you do.
Anyway, what about those old Spanish missions dotting California? Those sure are swell, aren't they?
It is not that are no old buildings out here, it is just that it is a big state with few old buildings. It is a real treat to see them, though, in part because they are rare. Besides the Spanish, I like the stuff that survives from right after the gold rush boom. To bad the Arts and Crafts houses are all down in LA; I’d like to see some of those up here. But the old part of Sacramento is cool with apartments on the upper floors above shops and restaurants. There is a good nightlife scene there, but you cannot find any parking. And, of course, San Francisco....
The charming thing about your acts, dear, is that I see right through them. What should I mix you to go with that smoke?
Funny you should say that, DW. Harvey County also had to tear down the old First Presbyterian Church to make way for the soul-deadening crackerbox.
You went to grade school at the courthouse?
Holy cow! That's an awesome church. Couldn't they put the crackerbox somewhere else? What's the story with that?
By the way, dear, I don't mean to be critical of your hometown architecture. You know I love Newton. It would just be so much more awesomer with those old buildings.
You're telling me. The crackerbox is a travesty, and everyone in Newton knows it. There are pictures of the old courthouse all over town, seemingly an attempt to keep it alive now that it's too late.
The old courthouse and the Presbyterian church were next to each other on that block of Main Street. When the courthouse became too small and started falling apart, the county bought the church, razed both buildings, and built the crackerbox.
Was that in the era when they threw up Wesoe Hall in the middle of the beautiful limestone and slate-roofed KU campus? That sort of thing would never happen now. Is the appreciation of neighborhood and architectural/historical integrity a more recent phenomenon? Because it seems like a lot of unconscionable demolition occurred mid-century.
Wow. What a shame.
Yeah, I went to school at that courthouse. Or at least it looked exactly like that courthouse.
I think that style is known as the "fuck-your-town-too" style. It was all the rage in the early '60s. They had baby pink and baby blue all over the insides.
I had the good fortune to go to school here for a year.
The cathedral is L'eglise St. Sernin, a Romanesque church of Medieval France. The nave was started in the 11th century.
The campus of my school, Lycee St. Sernin, is the tree-filled area at the top of the photo.
Of course, I had no more than a passing appreciation for the magnificence of this building when I lived there, even though I walked by it every single day. I was shocked when my art history professor mentioned it in college as an outstanding example of Romanesque architecture.
WOW!
When was this? Do tell.
It was in the mid-80s. I lived in Toulouse for a year, which is in southern France. Home of Toulouse Lautrec and the Concord! The Church of the Jacobins here, where a friend and I ran around in these cloisters, holds the remains of St. Thomas Aquinas, something else I didn't appreciate at 16.
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