Middle America Muses

Today, with the sky looking like rain and the weatherman reporting more of the same, we broke camp in Terre Haute and headed west on Highway 40, the National Road, first proposed to the U.S. Congress by President Thomas Jefferson. Our destination for the day was East St. Louis, somewhere near the town of Cahokia. Our goal was to visit the ancient Indian mound site of Cahokia wherein lie the ruins of the largest prehistoric city north of the Aztec city of Mexico. The area is also a United Nations World Heritage site.

For now, we’re sitting in an absolutely “sold out” camp site where we only got a space because a particular camper’s reservation has them showing up tomorrow after we’ve left and no one else before us wanted a single night’s stay. After so many nearly empty camps as we head into fall, finding one this popular was a surprise – well it was until my next door neighbor mentioned that he’s here for the ball game. Not sure which ball game since I don’t follow such things, but we feel very lucky that we got here at 3:00 p.m. and decided not to visit the Indian site this afternoon. Had we come later, well, we’d have been in a tough spot.


Anyway, the drive here this afternoon was just a joy. Highway 40 is a 1950s, pre-Interstate sort of road with one lane in each direction. You run with your lights on to avoid collisions and, most importantly, you take it easy. I drive between fifty or fifty-five and keep my eyes peeled for interesting photo opportunities, though most of what you see is gently rolling hillocks full of dried corn stalks and yellowing soy bean plants. The whole landscape is like a soft watercolor painting with only the occasional bright red or green tractor or dazzlingly white farmhouse to break the sweep of the fall colors that flow uninterrupted toward the cornflower blue of the sky on the distant horizon.

The gentle pace is far easier on the engine, probably gets us a mile or two extra in fuel consumption, and serves to lower my blood pressure immeasurably since we’re out on the Interstate not being blown around by 18-wheelers flying past.

Our journey didn’t involve much stopping today. Oh, we passed a myriad of antiques stores in which I would have loved to spend an hour. But I don’t really have much room to haul any extra “cargo” so I have thus far avoided the temptation to stop and explore. Perhaps our favorite stop was for the Cumberland County covered bridge, which, though it was a reconstruction of the original bridge, was a fully working replica that serves to carry traffic, though not for the main road. Probably all of you have explored a covered bridge in your life and know that few things are as quaint and wonderful as these timber-framed gems.

We chanced upon the perfect lunch spot today nestled at the edge of a farmer’s field full of soy beans, bordered by a white rail fence. The sun was behind us and the view across the golden yellow field filled us with awe that we could be privy to so much beauty.

The most entertaining stop today was for groceries. Some of the grocery stores we’ve chanced upon on this trip rival, and sometimes surpass, the finest stores we’ve visited anywhere. However today the store was right out of Mayberry, RFD. Concetta and I had been pretty successful in finding all the items on our list until we got to the last two which we decided to split. I took the vitamins and Concetta took the dried dates. Since I had no firm layout of the store memorized even though we had already wandered throughout much of it, I began at the first aisle and began to walk up and down each one. Finally, when I had found no vitamins, I headed for the nearest check stand to verify that I had just been unobservant and would need to retrace my steps. When I presented my question to the tall, slender woman behind the register she looked at me for a long moment. Figuring that she was just trying to decipher my accent, I repeated, “Do you happen to know on what aisle I might find the vitamins?”

With that she said, “If we have any, they’ll be on aisle seven.”

I turned and looked back down the long aisle that I had so recently thoroughly explored. No sense going back there. What kind of grocery store doesn’t have vitamins I wondered? I looked back at her. “Okay, thanks,” I said, and headed off to see how Concetta had done on her quest for dates. Good thing I wasn’t looking for Tai food or Greek yogurt or something like that, I thought.

When I reached Concetta, I said, “Well, did you find the dates?”

She shook her head. “When I asked one of the clerks where the dates were located the woman just looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. I told her, you know, DATES.”

“And she didn’t understand?” I asked.

“Nope. Told me she didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“You should have described the palm trees they grow on. She might have seen pictures somewhere.”

Concetta just shrugged. “I think the woman thought I was crazy.”

We did try a little date sleuthing on our own since, on sudden inspiration, I figured they’d be kept wherever the raisins and dried fruit were kept. But alas, when we located the raisins they didn’t prove to be keeping company with the dates. Personally, I love dates in my oatmeal so, if asked, I’ll have to inform the good citizens of Vandalia, Illinois, that I won’t be moving there anytime soon.

Tomorrow? Well, after our communion with the ghosts of all those long-dead native Americans, we're headed northwest toward yet another of our bucket list destinations: Hannibal, Missouri. There's talk of exploring "Injun Joe's" cave or maybe taking a stern-wheeler ride on the Mississippi. Mark Twain is calling and we can't wait to answer!!!

Until then, we wish you good food, good wine, and, above all, exciting travel!

Ciao.