unplannedtravels’ blog

Frontier Restaurant  - Albuquerque, NM:

The little guide book I almost bought but managed to read enough of in the bookstore so that I didn't have to said that Scenic Point at Glacier National Park had some of the best views in the park, and possibly in North America. I have not been all over North America, I have no idea what's going on in Mexico and most of Canada, but I will say that I am not feeling the need to call the book a liar right now.

Which is good because, though they called the hike to Scenic Point “moderate” in difficulty, I call the hike “really challenging for someone who is not in particularly good shape.”

Zappos made it up with me. But I say the bag did significantly less work than I did.

All right, going home.

Speaking of being slighted, according to my tour guide, the townspeople of Mitchell, SD originally decided to build a corn palace just to prove Lewis and Clark wrong. Upon reaching the area that would eventually become South Dakota, the explorers had written that it was a great desert, and would never be fit for anything other than buffalo.

I'm not entirely sure why the residents of Mitchell would still be offended by this pronouncement some 80 years after the fact, particularly since they had already proven the place was habitable by, you know, living there. But I guess what they wanted to do was prove that Lewis and Clark were so wrong, that there was so much abundance, that they could actually take the excess stuff and nail it to the walls of a big giant building. Apparently, they thought this would convince new people to move to town.

So every year (since 1892) they do this, pick a new theme, make new designs and the cover the outside of this building in corn and grass and grain. Then they leave it up all year until they start again the next summer. This building is not small, by the way. They have college basketball games inside.

Obviously, I think this is awesome. Because, again, why not completely over-do something just to prove you can? Just to prove that when someone thought you couldn't, they were very, very wrong.

I almost didn't go to the House on the Rock in Spring Green, WI. But it turned out it was on my way (in so far as I have any actual “way” to speak of on this trip) so I figured I would stay an extra night in Wisconsin and check it out, as it came highly recommended by Aaron Brown.

I asked a woman at the hotel how long it took to tour the house. She estimated 4-6 hours. I obviously found this absurd. It's a house. On a rock. Not exactly in the middle of nowhere, but within shouting distance of nowhere. How interesting could it be?

Oh, how foolish I was. The House on the Rock just goes on and on. It overwhelms. It's not just a house. Yes, there is the house and it is cool, a dim maze of weird little rooms and giant bookcases and music machines. But then there is more after you leave the house. What more? Just more. A room full of huge organs. A massive collection of guns. A 200 foot whale swallowing a boat. A giant Goldberg machine that I am pretty sure doesn't actually do anything. The world's largest carousel. My senses were literally overwhelmed.

Why is this here? Well, Alex Jordan, Jr. built the house, but it is said that the actual decision to do it was made by his father. He vowed to put a “Japanese” house (the house has something of an “Oriental” theme, but, uh, not really) on top of a giant rock outcrop. He did this because Frank Lloyd Wright said he was a bad architect who would never successfully build anything and that he wouldn't hire him to design a cheese crate. Alex didn't like Frank saying that. Alex Jr. didn't like it either. One reason for having children that I had not considered is that they will carry on your grudges for you. I may have to re-evaluate motherhood.

Anyway, Alex took his father's vow and just ran with it. Ran and ran. Built the house, and then built more buildings for housing whatever random crap he could make or buy or make a fake version of. Until it now takes someone like myself 4 hours to inspect the place (and this doesn't involve any reading of explanations of the artifacts as you would have at a normal museum; the items largely go un-described). It takes me so long that I don't have time later in the day to stop at a Frank Lloyd Wright house that I pass (not that Frank's fame is diminished by my bypassing him, of course).

Being slighted is a great motivator. It'll help you do the most remarkable things. Even if there is no actual point to those things, you'll still get them done. And then some.

I wrapped up my baseball weekend with a visit to the site where Field of Dreams was filmed, a spot that is meticulously preserved in the middle of a corn farm in Iowa.

Actually, in the middle of two corn farms. Somehow, when the producers built this field, they did so partially on the Lansing farm, and partially on the land of their neighbor. This seems to have led to a very awkward situation, where there are two separate entrances and two separate gift shops to this one field. The infield and right field and the house that appears in the movie are operated by the Lansings, who have lived on this property for over 100 years. I know this because there are numerous signs describing their work on the movie, and their personal involvement in the running of their half of the Field of Dreams. These signs then kinda go out of their way to point out that the gift shop next to left field may not be as authentic as their first base gift shop.

I get the feeling the Lansings wish there was no competition to their gift shop.

I'm a big fan of baseball, but I am always hesitant to use it as a metaphor for life, or as way of explaining the American psyche. It's beautiful, and it has many flaws, and I guess that does mean it begs to be made into a metaphor for life, but no more so than a lot of things. But though I was not moved to tears by the field (as some reportedly are), I certainly could not deny the impact the place had on people.

Because possible subtle bitterness between neighbors aside, the field itself is one continuous space, just as seen in the film. And if you just look at it, and the people on it, everything is harmony. People just wander onto the diamond and start to play. Sons actually ask their fathers if they want to “have a catch” (I witnessed this, I was half amazed something so cliched could occur in real life). A grown man told his wife, who was informing him that they really needed to leave in 15 minutes, “I'm not leaving, I'm staying here all day." Why is this? I'm not entirely sure. Keep in mind that this spot is not actually important to the history of baseball, but rather only important to the cinematic effort to explain baseball. It's not like playing on the field at Fenway Park. But for whatever reason, it impacts some people who love the game in a very profound way, so I shall choose not to be too cynical about it.

Since Barry Bonds refused to chase history at Miller Park on Sunday, I was forced to chase my own personal record regarding number of sausages eaten during a baseball game. This of course was in honor of the sausage race that is held during each game at Miller Park. People dress up in giant sausage costumes and run around (I want that job, really). One Polish sausage, one bratwurst, one Italian sausage, one hot dog and one chorizo trying to waddle around the diamond as fast as possible. Fun for all.

The presence of the chorizo was a surprise to me, as I was under the impression that there were only four sausages. Apparently the chorizo was added recently. Presumably in an effort to innovate, or promote diversity, or, most likely, increase sausage sales. I bet this strategy is working.

Anyway, I pronounce the Italian the best of all the Miller Park sausages. Followed closely by the chorizo (strong showing for a rookie). I liked the brat least of all. Unfortunately, my displeasure with its taste did not stop it from winning the race. No Bonds and an unworthy sausage won. Fortunately, Miller Park is beautiful and Wisconsin was weather was as nice as can be. Oh, and there was a baseball game, all gimmicks and personal accomplishments aside. The Giants lost and I was happy. Go Dodgers.

Hope springs eternal.

Is it delusional? Or should we all be eternally optimistic like Cubs fans?

Ohio redeemed itself vis a vis halls of fame by delivering a stellar Pro Football Hall of Fame. I admit that it is somewhat unfair for me to say this, since the major reason I liked the Hall was that it had a major display on my favorite team. In reality, yeah, some might say that it was a bit disorganized and random. But at least there was a clear sense of where to look for various players and teams. And an entire wing was dedicated to the Steelers. How could I not love a place like that?

Some very important shoes are to be found there as well.

Mean Joe Greene's shoes:

Jack Lambert's shoes:

And, perhaps most importantly, he shoes Franco Harris was wearing during the Immaculate Reception:

Another thing people do with their lives is sell shoes. It can be fun. I swear. Really.

Mahlon Haines sold shoes. Apparently he did it so well that he made a fortune for himself building a shoe empire in central Pennsylvania. If you build a shoe empire, the next obvious step is to build a shoe house. Clearly.

Haines used to give away weekend stays in this house to employees and elderly couples. Please note the shoe design in the shoe house windows:

I was very sorry to arrive here after they closed (I really need to work on my tendency to push the envelope on hotel checkout times), but I think I got the sense of it.

I wonder if I built a fence like this around my house if my Homeowners Association would complain:

One of the things they do is built vast miniature models of life in small town America. 6,000 square feet of miniature is a lot of miniature, you can get in a great deal of stuff. Several different towns, a coal mine, a power plant, an airport, a circus. And I'm just scratching the surface. There is a lot going on at Roadside America.

Laurence Gieringer was 10 years old when he started working on this with his brother. He worked on it his entire life, more than 50 years. He did some other things too, I suppose, got married, had kids, supported his family. But this was his passion, this was his thing. When there were spare moments, he worked on this. This highly romanticized version of a highly imperfect world.

Complete with churches:

and shoe makers:

and post offices:

Every half hour they turn off the lights and do a little pageant where they slowly light up the town to various patriotic songs, ending with a stirring rendition of God Bless America.

One is tempted to call this a pointless and silly tourist trap. But, it's Laurence's life's work. It may or may not have any relationship with historical reality, it may or may not be great art, it may or may not serve any grand purpose. But, he made a beautiful little world, which is something.