Four years ago while Kip and I were on an RV trip in the northeastern part of the country, we stopped for the night at a little RV park in Ohio. Kip mentioned that he thought Ron Spahlinger’s parents lived in Ohio. Ron and Barbara are friends of ours and live near us in the Mabank, TX area.

Kip decided to give Ron a call and find out where in Ohio his parents lived. As it happened, they were only about a 45 minute drive from where we were staying. Ron’s brother, Rick and his wife, Rita live next door to Ron’s and Rick’s mom and dad. Ron gave us Rick’s phone number. (That’s a lot of Rs.) After talking with him, we decided to stop by and meet everyone. We had no idea what was to come.

During that first visit we sat on Fran’s and Merrill’s porch, which overlooks the beautiful Lake Milton, and visited for a couple of hours. Rita was gone that day, but Rick, Fran and Merrill made us feel so welcome. We talked about our families, current and past events, and a little about politics. By the time we left, Kip and I felt we had been blessed with some pretty great new friends.

This time when we planned our trip,  we knew we wanted to stop and see Fran and Merrill along with Rick and Rita.

Rick had a wonderful breakfast including scrambled eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, and toast waiting for us when we arrived. Fran had set a beautiful table and prepared hot coffee. After breakfast, and since it was Sunday, we all watched the live stream of our church in Mabank’s service. Ron was directing the choir, and we saw Barbara sitting in the congregation. Fran and Merrill watch every week and said they know where Kip and I sit and look for us each Sunday. Since we should tell the truth here, any of us watching from Lake Milton would be stuck for an answer if asked what the sermon was about because we talked all the way through it.

A while back, our church advertised the position of choir director. Fran has a great sense of humor and as a fluke, she sent an elaborate resume and applied for the job. She and Pastor Dan along with Lance, our church administrator, went back and forth discussing salary, housing requirements, and other conditions of employment. The negotiations broke down, but it really was the church’s loss as Fran is an accomplished musician. In fact, the whole family can sing and play several instruments.

Fran told us about her years teaching children with a mental disability and regaled us with fun stories about her kids growing up and their various musical talents. As we were looking at all of the family mementos and pictures, Kip asked Merrill about the photos and other WWII memorabilia he had displayed. Among various other things was a model of a B17 airplane. Merrill was a navigator during the war and flew on numerous missions over Natzi Germany. It’s not often you get to talk with a WWII Veteran these days.

There is an American Association of Rosie the Riveters and Fran is a Rosie. The association honors women who were employed in an industry or agency that was directly related to the war effort or employed in a capacity usually held by a man, therefore releasing a man for military duty. Decendants of Rosies are Rosebuds.

After we were finished not watching the church service, Rick and Rita took us for a drive around Lake Milton. We got to see where Fran and Merrill raised their family and the church several family members attended and some, including Rick’s and Rita’s daughter, were married in. We passed by the farm Rick’s and Ron’s grandfather owned and the house that their aunt and uncle and family lived in back in the day. Rita lived in the area, too and we saw the house she and Rick built before building one next door to Fran and Merrill. Rick told us he had a special surprise and took us to a farmhouse that had a stand full of sweet corn. Kip and I bought several ears and finished it all off in two days.

The day wasn’t over, yet. Kip and I were treated to some first class entertainment. Fran played the electric keyboard…her foot going a mile a minute on the pedal while her nimble fingers flew over the keys. Rick played a mean guitar and Kip and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to old favorites such as, “Has Anybody Seen My Girl,” and “Sweet Georgia Brown.”

Kip and I brought one of those good old Walmart cakes and after listening to the wonderful music, we had dessert. Much too soon, it was time to say goodbye. When we got in the car to leave, we could see Fran waving to us from her kitchen window. I told Kip I thought I was going to cry. I looked at him and saw a tear in his eye.

It was a wonderful day. Oh, did I mention that Fran and Merrill are the same age. They are a true testament to the fact that 98 is just a number.

I think Baba tried to interview a football and the football said, “I would rather be kicked down a non-grassy field than be interviewed by Baba Wawa.”

After spending several days in Springfield. Illinois, where we visited the home of Abraham Lincoln, we drove on to Rockville, Indiana.

While we were in Springfield, our little kitty, Dollie, got sick. After she spent 2 days in an emergency animal hospital and 2 more days with us, we had to make the decision to let her go to animal heaven.

Dollie had a good life. She was 15 years old and we loved her dearly. She went to sleep peacefully. I looked into her eyes before she left us and had the feeling that Dollie had an old soul. My cousin, Paul said he didn’t know about humans, but he felt that pets were reincarnated and came back again to give another family joy.

The next day we drove on to Rockville, Indiana where we met Molly and Cary Cline. They are 2 of Kip’s college friends. Kip had not seen them in years until we bought our first RV (SeeYa), and stopped to see them when we passed through Indiana. Reuniting with old friends is another benefit of traveling in an RV. Molly and Cary have since retired and bought an RV, themselves. They spend a few months each year, during the winter, in Rockport, TX and we have gone to see them for several days, twice.

Rockville, Indiana is having their annual Covered Bridge Festival now and we are enjoying all of the festivities. While driving here, Kip said he thought he would see at least one covered bridge. After spending a couple of days here, we still had not seen one. In fact, a guy at the Parke County Fair Grounds, where hundreds of people in RVs are parked, a guy stopped us while we were walking the dogs and asked Kip if he could direct him to a covered bridge. Kip told him we had been looking for two days and had still not seen one. He didn’t tell him the only scenic place we had gone to was Walmart. Molly told him to get a map that showed where all of the covered bridges are or be patient until she got here. He wasn’t able to do either, but they got here last night so he has new hope.

Some of the following pictures were taken on the way to Rockville or on the road to the Walmart in Clinton which is about 10 miles from Rockville.

I’ll take a picture of the first covered bridge we see. We can also watch The Bridges of Madison County. I think they have covered bridges in the movie.

They used to say a saylor had a girl in every port. They would love them and then leave them. Breaking hearts became a sport.

When looking for a soulmate every girl should be aware. Not every handsome charmer is suave and debonair.

While on a recent road trip I enjoyed the scenes of fall. Times that were forgotten, I started to recall.

I grew up in a place with farms and ranches all around. When harvest time arrived all the combines came to town.

As they rolled along the highway, their arrival long awaited, the farmers waved them in and the young hearts palpitated.

Along with all those combines came all those cute combiners. The girls were heavy handed with lipstick and eyeliners.

As the days turned into weeks things got complicated. The girls fell in love and the guys got twitterpated.

Combiners go from farm to farm and leave out just in time. The girls thought on their fingers, a diamond ring would shine.

The combiners said, honey, there’s nothing here to fear. We’ll talk about it more when I come back next year.

The girls didn’t know that combiners play a game. They never call the girls they meet by their given name.

The combines soon move on and the combiners say honey, I have to go for now and I’ll make us lots of money.

As they rolled on into Murdo, their arrival long awaited, the farmers waived them in and the young hearts palpitated.

We arrived at the emergency animal clinic in Spingfield, IL at 2:00 pm yesterday. It was the only place open on Sunday that we could take our little kitty, Dollie. She had quit eating and drinking, and even though she did not seem to be in any pain, we knew she needed a doctor. They kept her over night to give her IV fluids and do blood work.

The tests showed she did not have an infection and all of her body functions were good. The final diagnosis was pancreatitis. We were to pick her up by 7 am this morning as they are an overnight only clinic.

At 5 am I took each of the dogs for a potty run. I took Nellie first. When I got back, and got Nellie and I inside the motor home, I noticed the lights were all off. I yelled. “OUR ELECTRICITY IS OFF!!!” It was then I realized I was in the wrong RV. I had my 65 lb dog inside someone else’s RV. Since no one came to greet us, we left. I had trouble getting the door shut so finally slammed it shut. When we got to our RV, I told Kip that if those people weren’t up and about when we got back, we needed to check on them because they might be dead. If not, it wasn’t very smart of them to leave their door unlocked, right?

Kip was not too happy with me, anyway because on the way to the RV park after dropping the kitty at the vet, I missed a turn while giving directions and we wound up at a large sports complex where about 200 kid’s football games were going on. Kip had to maneuver in and out of about 100 cars with only inches to spare. When we got out of there, I commented that those kinds of things are what makes RV life fun, right? He didn’t answer me.

We had to take Dollie to a day clinic today so they could give her more IV fluids and an appetite stimulant. She is going to be okay.

On the way back to pick her up, we’re going to stop at McDonalds. Not to eat. We can’t afford that. They are paying $15 an hour and we have about a $1500 vet bill to pay. We’re really having fun, though!

PS: When we got back, the people in the RV Nellie and I broke into were pulling out. Some people can’t take a joke.

Baba Wawa is back with another interview. She thinks she’s a star. Wait until you see her getup. She doesn’t even know she’s past her prime time. If she mentions Rose Bush again I’m going to sigh because it makes me sad.

BTW this isn’t Yram…

Eddie J must have been in the produce section buying corny. BTW, Baba looks like a cross between a biker babe and old time under cover reporter, Nellie Bly.

This still isn’t Yram…

W.W.W.Wouser!! We thought Baba couldn’t talk above a whisper, but she’s got a set of lungs on her. Better luck next time, Baba. I heard Eddie J was spotted at the car w.w.w.wash.

I SAID, this isn’t Yram…

By Valerie Leckey Halla, daughter of Ella Sanderson Leckey and husband, Al Leckey

We all love our small hometown…my Mom’s family were all brought up in Murdo, SD. I was partly raised in Pennsylvania but visited our small hometown most summers and loved moving back for 7-8 th grades. Then, boom, my parents moved us to California and I was devastated as a 13 year old to leave, thinking I could never go home to the place I loved and all my aunts, uncles and cousins again. But you can go home again…

I was chatting with my cousin Mark one time on the phone. We were looking back at good times, good people and good stories we had known and experienced. We talked about how my dear Mom was pretty frugal. When I was about 9 years old, she bought a new throw rug for the house. She kept it hidden away in the coat closet and didn’t use it except when some special South Dakota friends were visiting. It was considered an extravagance.

My Mom, Mark’s Aunt Ella and his Dad, my Uncle Jeff, had grown up with six kids in their family in a small log cabin. It was in a beautiful place about 8 miles east of Murdo called Horse Creek. It was a tough life growing up in the early 1900’s and 1920’s on the prairie and money was only used for necessities.

Mark and I kept telling stories. Fast Forward to the 1950’s- my Mom would put this throw rug out only on special occasions. It was not a necessity but it made us look like we could afford to buy a small fluffy foo foo rug. After the visit with old friends was over and dishes were cleared, we stood at the entry saying goodbye to our old friends. Standing there and as a kid I got bored, so I reached down and pulled up the new throw rug and put it back in the coat closet. The friends looked shocked. I had literally pulled the rug out from under them. Like my Mom, I knew the rug was just for special occasions. When company left, the rug was whisked away. My folks told that story for years after and Mark and I chuckled at that old story once again. He even knew where it fit in our wonderful family past. It clicked with him.

“Yeah, your Mom was really frugal and did some strange things. And our Aunt Elna fit in with our family of characters also. She would go into Mack’s Cafe whistling a tune and just barely step inside looking around. If no one of interest was there, she turned around and left!”

We both chuckled together on the phone still discussing our crazy yet lovable aunts and uncles. I offered another story a friend had told me recently since I lived in California and missed out on a lot of Murdo stories.
I got excited and yelled out, “Oh – and Mark, Cynthia told me about how during tourist season Aunt Elna drove Aunt Loretta uptown to check out the motel situation! It’s so funny. Aunt Loretta filled up her Chalet Motel then parked at Aunt Elna’s house so people didn’t recognize her car and then Loretta rode in Aunt Elna’s car with her. She would see which motels still showed vacancy signs!” I told him the route Cynthia said they took down the highway, up the hill, down Main Street, and they would do the route circling around a few times all this at about 5-10 mph, seeing all the Murdo motels in town and on the two highways several times. He knew all this anyway. “ So Aunt Loretta smoked her cigarettes and they went back and forth at about a snail’s pace, really stretching the ride out, lording it over on the businesses that weren’t filled with tourists chatting away until Aunt Elna drove Aunt Loretta back to the house to pick up her own car!” He laughed. (Ironically, years after this story occurred, Aunt Elna’s son – our cousin – now owns a big impressive motel in town and Mark has a lovely country inn also.)

Our conversation continued. Mark told another good one about his Dad promising to give him his treasured jeep when he, Mark, turned 24, but no, he didn’t. Uncle Jeff didn’t give it to him. There are many jeep stories, but suffice it to say many years later, friends took the old jeep out by the cemetery when Uncle Jeff passed away and the jeep watched as Jeff was buried there. The jeep now lives in the Murdo Auto Museum. If that old vehicle could talk…what a lot of stories it holds.

Mark and I ended our hours long conversation by joking and bragging that we certainly weren’t as silly and weird like our parents and aunts and uncles! No, we were different, more educated, more modern, and young! We both paused and thinking it over, knew we had also done some weird things, but we felt the joy going back in time, recalling how we laughed at the good times, good people and funny stories. How lucky that we were able to go back home even if just in our memories.

There are more stories about Uncle Wayne and Aunt Helen and our grandparents and cousins, but that’s for another day when we’re back home. Thank Heaven, we can go back again. Back home.

(Yram: I apologize that the pictures aren’t in the correct order. I am working from my Executive trailer.)