Lincoln's Funeral Train 2015

I flipped through my Midwest Living magazine this month and found something I had to mark on my calendar. This April will mark 150 years since our 16^th president was assassinated. In remembrance, a replica of Abe Lincoln’s funeral train will roll through Springfield, IL and ML says that a “replica horse-drawn hearse will carry a replica coffin to Oak Ridge Cemetery on May 3, where a memorial ceremony honors Lincoln’s life.”

I researched the details of the funeral train when I was writing a story for my Traveling through Illinois: Stories of I-55 Landmarks and Landscapes between Chicago & St. Louis book. The newspaper’s description was so eloquent I had to quote them directly. When the railroad tracks separate from their long journey along the highway and veer away toward the center of Springfield, near mile marker 108 southbound, I imagine that mournful train bringing Lincoln home. Here is our entry for southbound mile 108:

108 Funeral Train

During your journey, you may have seen a passenger or freight train traveling between Chicago and Springfield on these rails paralleling I-55. On May 3, 1865, the most memorable train in Illinois’ history passed along this same route. President Abraham Lincoln’s funeral train brought him home to Springfield. When Lincoln left Springfield on February 11, 1861, (the day before his 52^nd birthday) he stood at the train depot and bid his friends a sad farewell.

Friends, no one who has never been placed in a like position can understand my feelings at this hour, nor the oppressive sadness I feel at this parting. For more than a quarter of a century I have lived among you, and during all that time I have received nothing but kindness at your hands. Here I have lived from my youth until now I am an old man. Here the most cherished ties of earth were assumed. Here all my children were born and here one of them lies buried. To you, dear friends, I owe all that I have, all that I am… With these words I must leave you -- for how long I know not. Friends, one and all, I must now bid you an affectionate farewell.

Four years later, a train brought him back to the Springfield depot, once again among tearful friends. On April 21, 1865 the funeral train left Washington and began its 1700-mile journey to Springfield. Over 30 million mourners, with bowed heads and teary eyes, waited alongside the tracks for their moment to pay respects to him as the train passed. In the late evening of May 2, the train left Chicago and followed the future route of I-55. In Joliet, Bloomington, and Lincoln large silent crowds had gathered, and in the smaller towns hundreds more mourners lined the tracks, sometimes illuminating the route with torches held high and sometimes even paying tribute with funeral arches placed over the tracks. The town of Williamsville, which you’ve just passed, had an arch that said, “He has fulfilled his mission.”

On the morning of May 3, the train moved slowly into Springfield—taking two hours to go about a mile and a half. The New York Tribune reported that:

The pall-bearers, those old men, friends of his, lang syne, approach. The stillness among all the people is painful; but when the coffin is taken from the car, that stillness is broken, broken by sobs, and these are more painful than the stillness. The coffin is borne to the hearse; the hearse moves slowly, almost tenderly, away, followed by the mourners, and the pallbearers walk by the side. The cortege, more solemn than any that had gone before, reaches the States House, where he was wont to speak face to face with his neighbors – where at this hour those neighbors press to behold his face locked in death. All night they will pass by with eyes searching through tears for resemblances and recognition of the features they knew so well.

On this eve of President's Day, and in the month of his birth, I envision Abe through Springfield poet Vachel Lindsay in "Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight":

It is portentous, and a thing of state

That here at midnight, in our little town

A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,

Near the old court-house pacing up and down...

A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black,

A famous high top-hat and plain worn shawl

Make him the quaint great figure that men love,

The prairie-lawyer, master of us all.

Royals and Cards I-70 Series Repeat?

So, of course, I’m excited that the Kansas City Royals are in the play-offs. They’re the closest MLB team to our home- just an hour south down the interstate. We love Kauffman stadium and have enjoyed many games there. But, I’ve recently realized the other exciting possibility that the St. Louis Cardinals and the Kansas City Royals could meet up in an I-70 Series again. Hmm…dreamy vision bubble forms in my head…the Driving Across Missouri: A Guide to I-70 takes off in sales. Hmm…the marketing possibilities…

We wrote a story in our book on billboards. According to a group called “Save Our Scenery,” Missouri has 14,000 billboards—about 3x as many per mile as the 8 neighboring states. Many people find them an eyesore on the landscape. About 42,000 people a day view the billboards near mile exit 183 according to highway statistics.

Hm…I imagine two billboards: the first says something like, “Do you know what happened at Mile 97 in 1829?” the second shows a cheesy photo of Ted and I holding our book and it says, “Read our book and you’ll find out!”

I see myself at a little pop-up bookstand along the highway. No watermelons or pumpkins for sale, but bites of stories about the history, community and natural history along the road. Maybe I’ll add a few tomatoes and green beans from my backyard, too.

Hmm… any baseball-related stories between St. Louis and Kansas City? Well, at the beginning of the book we talk about the new Busch stadium and of a 6-mile stretch that honors homerun slugger Mark McGwire and later we mention Kauffman and the George Brett superhighway stretch of I-70.

We also talk about the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City’s 18^th and Vine District. I’ve visited it multiple times and it is interactive and interesting. A real gem of a museum in KC. We pass local baseball fields like the ones at Dyer Park just outside of KC and T.R. Hughes Field, home of the River City Rascals, in St. Charles county. We've seen road-trippers taking a break at I-70 rest stops with their leather gloves out playing some catch. 

Well, as I listen to Game 3 of the Royals against the Angels, I’m feeling optimistic! All right, Cards, let’s get our I-70 Series going. 

Exploring LaSalle

Over the years, when in Chicago I have logged many miles on Michigan Avenue’s “Magnificent Mile.” And I have spent countless days strolling “State Street that Great Street.” As a fourth generation Chicagoan, I have often played the role of tour guide when visiting the city with friends and family. My tour would include Michigan Ave and State St., a few of the East-West streets, and the adjacent parks, restaurants, ornate hotel lobbies, soaring skyscrapers and subtle historic landmarks.  However, on a recent visit to Chicago my sister-in-law suggested that we deviate from our normal route (which had become more rut, than route) and explore LaSalle – a street whose name honors an explorer and his explorations.

Our exploration began when we hopped off the Metra Train at the Van Buren St. station rather than the more popular end-of-the-line Millennium station.  Immediately I was transported into a scene from a 1940s black and white movie. Built in 1896, the Van Buren St. station is the oldest active building on the Metra Electric line. Ornate tile floors and pillars reeked with nostalgia. The graffiti-laden wood benches – looking like pews – seemed saturated with stories of generations of commuters who squeezed into them as they waited for their train home.

Heading up the stairs into the bright morning light, I was surprised to exit through a replica of an Art Nouveau-style Paris Metro entrance which the City of Paris gave Chicago in 2001. This would be just the first of many surprising discoveries.

We walked west on Adams past the venerable Bergoff’s Restaurant and then ducked into the two-story lobby of the Marquette Building to see the beautiful mosaics honoring two other Illinois explorers Pere Marquette and Louis Joliet. Four bronze relief sculptures depicting the pair launching their canoes, meeting Native Americans, arriving at the Chicago River, and interring Marquette’s body can be found above the entrance to this National Historic Landmark. Built in 1895, it was one of Chicago’s first skyscrapers. Even the revolving doors are noteworthy with tomahawks on the kick plates and panther heads on the push plates designed by Edward Kemeys of the Art Institute lions fame.

Continuing west we came to our destination. LaSalle Street is the heart of the financial district and this heart pumps money across the city and world. It is cliché to refer to canyons among skyscrapers in major cities, but LaSalle really feels like a canyon. The canyonesque feeling comes from the Board of Trade Building which closes off the south end of the street, thereby making pedestrians feel like they are walled in on three sides by rock canyon/skyscraper walls. Atop the copper roof of the art deco Board of Trade building a 6,500 pound, 3-story tall aluminum statue of Ceres, the Goddess of Grain, looks down on LaSalle Street. 

She holds a bag of corn in one hand and a sheaf of wheat in the other hand to represent the commodities traded in the building.  For many years this was the tallest skyscraper in Chicago and many folks still consider this to be its finest building.

It seems appropriate that in the shadow of the Board of Trade is the U.S. Federal Reserve’s Money Museum.  Ironically, it does not cost money to enter the Money Museum. Once you pass through airport-like security visitors learn how our economy works and why it sometimes doesn’t.  You will see a stack of one million dollar bills and you can put your arms around a million dollars’ worth of $20 bills. 

You also can learn how to identify counterfeit money. Free souvenirs include a bag of shredded currency and photo “ops” include having your face on a $2.00 bill.

Across the street from the Money Museum is another building on the National Register of Historic Places, the Rookery Building. My sister-in-law works in the building and so this was our primary destination on our exploration of LaSalle Street.

Designed by Daniel Burnham and John Root, the Rookery was completed in 1888. Frank Lloyd Wright redesigned the two-story, sky-lit lobby in 1905. At 11 stories tall, it is considered the oldest standing high-rise in Chicago.

Even an untrained eye like mine could see the innovative and intricate approaches applied to designing a building with light in mind. Chicago was a dark, smoky city in the 1880s and even on sunny days the coal smoke shaded the city.  Electric lamps were gradually replacing oil lamps and the Rookery light fixtures were designed to work with either. (A bank vault in the basement stores many original light fixtures, elevator buttons, and other artifacts.) But neither source was reliable and, even when working, these lamps only produced weak light. So the architects designed an open “light court” to allow natural light to permeate the building. 

The friendly security guard led us into the elevator to the 11th floor where we visited the Burnham Library. Burnham, Root and Wright all worked and studied in what now serves as a conference room for the building’s tenants. A photograph of Burnham and Root sitting in the room depicts the furniture and fireplace just as it is today.

The most stunning feature of the building is Root’s vertigo-inducing oriel staircase which goes between the 2^nd to the 12^th floor.  This staircase is one of the most photographed features in Chicago. It is commonly featured on art posters sold to all of those tourists back on Michigan Avenue. Here on LaSalle you see the real thing!

Before leaving, I asked my sister-in-law how the building got its strange name. She said there were several versions, but most point toward mocking noisy Chicago politicians.  City Hall occupied the site before the Rookery was built. The “Rookery” may have referred to the City Hall’s rundown appearance or the crow-like politicians who roosted there. Others said it was because pigeons flocked to the adjacent fire station to eat the oats that were fed to horses that pulled the fire wagons. In any case, Burnham and Root were not happy that the name stuck to their beautiful building. But whether in jest or resignation, Root did design cawing crows (or rooks) on the building’s exterior.

Daniel Burnham is most famous for designing Chicago’s glorious iconic lakefront. His most notable quote states, “Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood …” The next time you visit Chicago I suggest that you “make no little plans” and include time to explore LaSalle Street. The architecture may stir your blood and your imagination. - Posted by Ted

Driving With a Mission

It’s Labor Day weekend and some families are feeling the urge to get in one more big road trip before the days of turkeys and Christmas trees. Our family? Well, a 40-minute drive to Kansas City down Interstate 29 was fine for us. It’s been an active summer and we’re ready to settle in for the winter.

 One trip I took this summer was one down very familiar highways to a very unfamiliar place. My daughter and I traveled to the south side of Chicago on a church mission trip to help serve the people in the roughest neighborhoods in Chicago. In the week we were there a young woman was killed by gunfire just a few blocks down from the church where we were staying.

From St. Joseph we traveled 2 of the 3 highways of which I’ve written about: Highway 36 and Interstate 55. Not much had changed on either highway since I’d written the audio tour for MO and Ted and I had written the book for Illinois except for a larger expanse of wind turbines through central Illinois. But on my way home from our mission trip the road looked different to me.

During our week on the south side of Chicago we met people who found pride in their community even though they knew that outsiders talked of their neighborhood differently. They knew their neighborhood had gangs and individuals that caused trouble in their homes and on the streets, but they didn’t want to pack up and leave the place they had always called home.

Some outstanding community members choose to encourage others in any way possible. Many in the community wanted to work but had lost their jobs as industries closed. Others felt they had no means to leave.

Roadways conjure emotions just like sidewalks through gardens or sidewalks through garbage. The roadways in these neighborhoods had signs that said “speed hump.” I was used to seeing “speed bump” not “hump.” You could tell the neighborhoods where speeding had been a serious problem. Speed humps are much wider than bumps and in some neighborhoods they were lined up and down the street in every block.

After sharing our time with the community, we hit the highway again and traveled south down I-55. As I drove a suburban full of teenagers back to their safe neighborhoods, clean homes and loving families I thought of those we had just left behind. Some wouldn’t have come with us if we had asked. They would say they were needed there. It was their home and no matter how dangerous their neighborhood would become, they would be there to keep guiding their young people in the right direction. I marveled at their strength and their optimism in the face of poverty and violence.

We weren’t leaving them behind. They were on a path and had chosen their road. They chose the road to recovery. 

Air Travel Guide Across Missouri

Last week my family and I flew out from Kansas City International Airport (KCI) to New York City. I love my road trips, but the view out an airplane window is mesmerizing. Cars move like little armies of ants in line on the highways. Multi-colored quadrilateral agricultural fields quilt the earth. Stormy clouds pass above you and below you. There's so much to see up there and you see it all in such a different way. It reminds me of that Proust quote we use in our I-70 book about "seeing with new eyes" the landscape we have taken for granted.

I watch downtown Kansas City scroll by my scratched up oval window. Arrowhead and Kauffman Stadium come into view and also scroll out to the right. We're traveling I-70 by air. Hmm... could I use our book thousands of feet above the interstate? It worked on Amtrak, maybe it will work on Southwest Airlines. As I was peering down trying to find landmarks I saw this one

and knew exactly where I was-- Mile 30,White Industries. I could see the huge 4,400-foot-long runway underneath us. At first I thought it was another airport, but then his inventory of 2,600 planes came into view. From the interstate you can see only the 1960s vintage Lear 23 jet in his front yard. It is impossible to see this view from anywhere but his backyard or the skies above.

White Industries is one of the largest suppliers of used airframe, engine, and avionics parts. Some planes are flown in while others have to roll down the highway within another transportation vehicle. Some of his planes have come from such remote places as a glacier in Greenland and an African forest.

As we traveled on further south I saw some of our other stories-- a glimpse of the Ozarks to the south (although, once again, more than a glimpse as we kept climbing towards our cruising altitude), small towns among the ag fields, cemeteries and schools.

It would be great to have interpreters on airplanes. Sure you can use the airline app to somewhat figure out where you are (but not really). The plane on the app I was using was the length of over 3 cities (that's one big plane!) and made it difficult to tell where we were. If interpretive sky travel guides could stroll the aisles and tell us what we were seeing how time would fly. Okay, bad pun, but it would be such a richly informative and entertaining trip. But they barely have room to push that little beverage cart down the aisle and not enough funding to give us more than a tea-bag size bag of peanuts (get out the EpiPen.)But I'd pay for an interpretive sky travel guide. "Can you see the...?" "Did you know that you're directly over....?" "See how the...?" I could put down my magazine and listen to the stories as I pass over like Peter Pan in Neverland.

Now I'm resisting the urge to write interpretive travel guides for airliners. We could put them in the little pouches just behind the safety instruction sheet. Safety first.  What a variety we could write-- and have alternative stories for when weather causes detours.Winter could throw a cold blanket on the land, but the worst part would be the plane ticket cost we'd have to endure flying back and forth to double-check all our stories and sites. Anyway, as you travel this summer, we hope you enjoy all the stories that you see from the road and the skies!

Labor Day Blues

It’s another Saturday night and in my household that means The Fish Fry is on the radio KCUR- Kansas City. It’s a great program that highlights blues, R&B, soul, jumpin’ jazz, and zydeco music and oftentimes, KC artists. The week of July 6 they were doing a “road songs” theme. Here are a handful of the road songs they played that evening. Listen to the whole show at http://www.kcur.org/fish-fry-archives

Key to the Highway- Muddy Waters

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EU4W5j78keE

Big Road Blues- Rory Block

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFwIfKSGK2I

T Model Blues- Lightnin’ Hopkins

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9AGSXiWWko

Long Time to Get There- Betse Ellis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Es6FCqgiIT0

A few more of some country blues for those who are laboring on the highway this Labor Day weekend:

Mobile Blues- Waylon Jennings

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mN0nMxCS2U0&list=PL3162E65BC119154A

Truck Driver’s Blues- Merle Haggard

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbsXkK93fUY&list=PL3162E65BC119154A

Long, Lonesome Highway- Dick Curless

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D_kV4efuN7Q&list=PL3162E65BC119154A

Gulf Coast Highway- Nanci Griffith

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DUqLleoZxtM

Get Your Kicks on Route 66 and Enjoy the Drive on I-55

I had a radio interview on WGLT in Bloomington, IL last weekend about our “Traveling Through Illinois” book. They played the Van Halen song, “I Can’t Drive 55” at the beginning of it. Clever. I liked it.

Ted and I started an I-55 song list years ago, actually. We pondered what songs we should have on the soundtrack if this book should ever make it on the big screen. Okay, well, we just thought about all the fun road songs there are out there. So, for the next few blogs we’ll play some road tunes.

Seems respectful to start with this one:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qjejXfZYp9Y

Here’s an encore from his daughter:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrNzqc1ZMRo

Here’s hoping that after you read our book, you won’t ever sing Sammy’s lyrics about I-55:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8FDKYGGvxAE

Kids Say the Darndest Things On Road Trips

The first week of July 2013 is gone. For some this means that summer vacation is half over. It’s the crest of the hill before rolling towards Christmas. Hopefully most are still enjoying some fun in the sun. For some, this may even be the eve of a family road trip. Some families are triple-checking that they packed their swimming trunks, cancelled the newspaper, and that their children have charged all of their electronic entertainment for the drive. Ah, the glare of hand-held electronic screens has dimmed the games of counting farm animals and playing license plate poker.

I have just come home from a youth mission trip to Benton Harbor, Michigan where none of the teens were allowed to take electronic devices. Poor kids were subjected to my I-55 mile marker stories from our “Traveling Through Illinois” book. It wasn’t through my devious plans that this all happened. The big boss of the youth leaders relayed that kids should take the 9.5 hours to talk and get to know one another.

I was lucky to get the vehicle full of boys. Little boys can be loud in their imaginary play which always includes sound effects of something blowing up, imploding, exploding, or blasting off, while little girls do quiet tea parties. But, age does something to the vocal chords of teens that has nothing to do with puberty. I could see the carload of girls ahead of me. Arms were waving, bodies were swaying, ( I think the entire van was shaking ) and the male youth leader who was driving their vehicle stumbled out at our first stop to gas up the car. Dazed, he mumbled something about a headache.

Long road trips usually offer a few funny comments uttered at just the right level of silence. Those are some of the most memorable moments of the drive. As the boys and I crossed over the Mississippi River from Missouri to Illinois on Highway 36 at Hannibal, I shared one of these funny comments uttered by my daughter who was in the chatty girl vehicle ahead of us.

My family traveled Highway 36 across Missouri about 3 times a year to see family in Illinois. Every time we crossed the bridge over the Mississippi River in Hannibal, we’d point it out to our daughter, Rose, and name it, hoping we could teach her some geography along the way. On one trip across the Mighty Missi-sip, when she was around 4 years old, I once again announced in my best Chevy Chase voice, “Here comes the bridge! We’re about to cross the Mississippi River!” Everything went quiet for a moment in the van as Rose’s unspoken thoughts hung in the air, and then she said, “Mom, why isn’t there a Mr. Issippi?” It took me a minute to get it and then she said that it wasn’t fair to have a Miss Issippi and not a Mr. Issippi. What an equal rights kind of girl!

This little tyke grew up to be a teenager. Just recently she said to me, “When I get a car someday I’m going to buy a (VW) Bug so I can drive by and watch people punch each other.” I am almost too embarrassed to share this story.

The whole “Are we there yet?” phrase springs from the fact that kids have a hard time gauging time. In fact, one story of travel and sense of time (not the same as time travel) is when my younger daughter had no concept of time (or she was just too giddy from finding out we were going on a trip.) On opening a fortune cookie that revealed we’d be going to Disney World just after New Year’s, she blurted out in happy excitement, “Are we gonna stay overnight??”

If you’re traveling with young kids this summer don’t forget to take the baby book, a journal, or a pen and paper. You might just capture some of those darndest things that your kids say as they first see the Grand Canyon, cruise past a wind farm, or find bizarre creatures in the clouds outside the window. Enjoy the ride!

Tree Silhouettes while Traveling Through Illinois

As in any book, there are stories to be cut, and we were sad to cut a few of our tree stories. Other landmarks fought for attention at the same spot or other stories ran beyond the boundaries of their mile. So, we thought we could “re-plant” this story on these cyber pages.

A chapter from “Reading the Landscape of America,” by May Theilgaard Watts and my love for sculpture inspired this story on tree silhouettes.

From the cutting room floor of the Illinois book:

Tree Silhouettes In the distance a row of trees punctuate the skyline with their branching silhouettes.  For half of the year these deciduous trees appear leafless, revealing the patterns of their weaving branches.  While some people may find winter and early spring trees “dead-looking”, others see beautiful black sculptures lining the hillsides on the highways. 

Different species of trees can be identified by their silhouettes.  For example, a weeping willow tree would be easy to identify by its drooping branches that cascade down like long hair. 

Massive Bur Oak trees left in open fields can sprawl horizontally with thick low limbs stretching wide over the plains. 

In contrast, Cottonwoods usually have a very tall straight trunk with few or no lower branches but with upper limbs that weave together vertically in lattice patterns.  These tall straight trunks were often used for canoes as trappers made their way down the Missouri River.

Honk if You Like Trees!

A shade tree is a blessing in the heat of the summer day. With a grassy cushion or soft chair to protect your backside from the bumpy roots, it’s a great place to enjoy a good read.  Shel Silverstein praised the tree in his book, “The Giving Tree” as have many other authors in poetry and essays over the years. 

We, too, felt the need to recognize these earthy friends in our traveling books. We cannot fail to mention the gifts that trees give to landowners, shoppers, sightseers, farmers, and children of all ages.

In our Illinois, Missouri, and Kansas books we talked about the Willows, Oaks, Hickories, Osage-Oranges, Red Cedars, and Cottonwoods.

Here are a few stories to share with you about the diversity and wonderment of those living creatures in which we are surrounded by but rarely acknowledge during our day.

From Traveling Through Illinois

Mile 137 Cottonwood Commerce-- If you are driving along this stretch of the highway in winter, snow may be flying past your windshield, but if you are passing through in June you may also see flurries. The trees in a row on your right are Eastern Cottonwood trees, whose tiny brown seeds are parachuted by cottony hairs that float across the highway like a summer snowstorm. Notice how the heart-shaped Cottonwood leaves seem to be continually moving. Cottonwood leaves constantly flutter because they have flat, rather than round, stems that make them twirl and twist wildly in the slightest breeze. Indian tribes shaped these tree trunks into sturdy canoes for their trips of commerce and companionship across the state. With hot coals, they would first burn the trunk and then scrape out they charred wood to sculpt their dugout canoes. Canadian explorers, Marquette & Joliet, traveled the Illinois and Mississippi River in birch bark canoes, but would have fared better on a Cottonwood craft if they would’ve ventured into turbulent waters. Plains and Prairie Indian tribes found Cottonwood canoes sturdier than the birch bark canoes of the northern woodlands.

Cottonwoods still contribute to commerce. If you stopped for an ice cream treat during your drive today, you may have held a cottonwood stick in your hand. The wood is used for such things as ice cream sticks, kites, veneer, baskets, pulpwood, and fuel. These lively trees are fast-growers, but short-lived. Years from now, this stand may be gone, but most likely, somewhere along I-55, you’ll still see these seed aviators planting products across the prairie.

from Driving Across Kansas

177 Water-loving Willows - Willows and water go together. Old Testament prophets, Shakespeare, and a multitude of writers and artists for centuries have linked willows and water. Unlike some literary linkages, this association is biologically accurate. Willows require an abundance of water and can survive long periods of flooding. These attributes make them the perfect shoreline tree. Willows serve an important function in preventing erosion of banks in ponds and streams. Willow roots form dense mats that hold the soil particles in place instead of being washed away by waves or flowing water.

Native Americans used willow wood and limber willow sprouts to make traps, tent poles and stakes, mats, baskets, drums, meat-drying racks, and many other things. Today willow wood is sometimes used for boxes, crates, and furniture parts. A specialty use of willow wood is for artificial limbs for amputees.

Willows were a living pharmacy for both Native Americans and European settlers. Virtually every potential health problem known was treated with teas or pastes made from parts of the willow tree by some group of people on the Plains. Even “chew-sticks,” the precursor to tooth brushes, often were willow twigs. These willow chew sticks may have provided other dental health benefits from the chemicals in the wood. Salicin, a painkiller used in modern pharmaceuticals, is found in willow bark and leaves. 

The familiar Weeping Willows are not a native species, but rather they originated in China. Weeping Willows were brought to Europe in the 1700s and eventually found their way to North America where now they are popular ornamental tree.

Written for, but not included in Driving Across Missouri

Sycamores - You can easily identify sycamores from the highway because they have white, tan, and greenish mottled bark. Sycamores grow where there is plenty of water so they are found along streams and rivers. Notice this tree is sitting in a damp low spot. Sycamores are the largest trees east of the Rockies. They can stand 150 feet tall and their crowns can be more than 100 feet across. Sycamore wood is hard, but it often rots from the inside so only the outer trunk supports the tree. Hollow trunks and branches become wildlife apartment complex for raccoons, opossums, bats, owls and other cavity-nesting birds. Settlers used huge trunk cavities, some as big as 125 square feet, as storage rooms and even homes. Sycamore wood has been used for dugout canoes, wagon wheels, barrels, and furniture.

 

How many trees do you think you pass on a day’s drive? Amazing how easily we overlook them, isn’t it?

Tornadoes on the Interstate

Our thoughts go out to all those who were affected by this past weekend's tornado outbreak in Oklahoma, Missouri, and Illinois. Ted and I have friends and relatives whose communities were affected by these storms, but luckily none of them were injured. In "Traveling Through Illinois" we have a story about a deadly F-3 tornado that crossed the interstate on June 1, 1999. The tornado hit the rest area at mile 65 and overturned six tractor-trailer trucks and killed one driver and injured four others before it traveled farther northeast for ten miles.

It's difficult to know what to do when you are on the road and then caught in the midst of a twister. Some have found refuge under an overpass while for others this has proved deadly. Some stay in their cars and others get out and hide in a ditch or low-lying area. Here's some information we got from the National Weather Service on what might help you survive is you face a twister on the road.

from "Traveling Through Illinois"

Meteorologists advise that when drivers on highways spot a tornado, they

shouldn’t attempt to outdrive the unpredictable twisting mass of debris.

Tornadoes can weave back and forth over a road and change directions

quickly. They suggest that if it is visible and far away, you should drive at

right angles to avoid it. Drivers shouldn’t park under bridges or overpasses

since the winds can actually be more severe as they rush under these spots.

Rather, you should look for a nearby business where you could take shelter.

If no businesses are nearby, park your car, move away from it so it doesn’t

roll over on you, lie facedown in any low-lying area like a ditch or culvert and

cross your arms over your head for protection from flying debris.

Accounts from Oklahoma http://newsok.com/fatalities-reported-after-massive-storm-system-moves-through-central-oklahoma/article/3840694 reported an array of different accidents on I-40 and other roads. Tornadoes can touch down in any season, but most especially the spring and summer. We wish you safe travels on the road this summer!

Traveling Through Illinois

This week, The History Press will release our latest book, “Traveling Through Illinois: Stories of I-55 Landmarks and Landscapes Between Chicago & St. Louis” (you can call it “ttisoilalbcasl” for short—okay, maybe that’s not much shorter really, but I do like that it has the word “soil” in it. You’ll see a lot of that on your drive through Illinois!) Ted and I hope to help travelers see more than soil out there, though. More than corn (did you know that over 4,200 supermarket products and by-products are made from corn?). More than sky (although it is vastly fascinating on the prairie). More than semi-trucks (I personally like the lowboys). More than flat (On trips to Normal I thought I wasn’t normal because I felt the front of my car tilting like I was climbing a hill, even though it looked as flat as a pancake out my window. I finally found out that I had been climbing a moraine and realized I wasn’t abnormal after-all. Well, not about that anyway.)

You have the drive all planned out. Take A highway to B highway and stop for lunch at that place with the great horseshoe sandwiches; but, when one of your stops is not at all what you planned, sometimes those are the best memories. Ted and I thought that one of our stories should be about what life is like in a small town (I have now invited the John Mellencamp song into my head for the rest of the night. “Had myself a ball in a small town…”) but it didn’t turn out at all like we thought it would—it was better.

We had to find an appropriate town in a spot where we didn’t already have a story. The little town of Waggoner seemed perfect. From the highway you can see this old gray wooden sign that looked like it could have been made at Lincoln’s New Salem village and says, “Welcome to Waggoner—Established 1886--  ‘From prairie to farm with pride’.” Well if that don’t beat all.

What’s interesting is that there is absolutely no sign of life anywhere near that sign. It is in front of a crop field next to a gravel road that just disappears far on the horizon. Where was the town? I wasn’t sure it even existed, but they seemed friendly enough to put that sign right next to the Interstate, welcoming all city slickers and other travelers into their little town. I couldn’t help but love this invisible non-existent town! So we chose Waggoner as our poster-child small town.

Ted gave a call to City Hall. They directed him to one woman who then directed him to another and after about 3 phone calls around the neighborhood, his small town story became a Hollywood set. Well, it involved Steven Spielberg, at least. One woman mentioned all the mandatory small town things that small town people do—have dinners at the American Legion Hall, play BINGO, and take afternoon walks on the country roads-- then she completely spins our tidy small town story out of control by mentioning that, “Oh, yes, and Steven Spielberg has visited here.”

“???”

She went on to tell the story of how he accompanied his wife, Kate Capshaw, to her grandfather’s 100^th birthday party right here in Waggoner. The story took a twist—a different route than we had programmed into our GPS (Game Plan Story)—but through the local citizens better stories poured forth than the ones we had planned. 

The best part of writing these books is talking with the people living along our interpretive route. They are the stories. An interview turns into friendly conversation, laughter, and an emotional connection.

As we were writing a book to help travelers see more than cornfields in Illinois on I-55, we were finding unexpected stories ourselves. Each interview humanized that journey a bit more. It wasn’t merely a highway for traveling, it was the front yard of many hardworking, funny, and interesting people who gave their time to tell a few ex-natives their stories. We’re passing them along.

The Hawk Highway

To most travelers, Texas State Highway 100 from Los Fresnos to South Padre Island is a rather nondescript stretch of road. The short 24-mile highway is straight and flat as it courses across the coastal grasslands of Deep South Texas. However, more observant travelers might notice that the fences and power poles paralleling the highway between Los Fresnos and Laguna Heights are adorned with an amazing number and variety of hawks.  In this 11- mile stretch it is not uncommon to see seven or eight different kinds of hawks as well as closely related Black and Turkey Vultures and the stunning Crested Caracara. Many of these birds will be close enough to the road to identify without binoculars as folks drive down the highway.

On a recent trip along this raptor-lined road, I observed several individuals of each of the following species perched on fence posts and power poles: Red-tailed Hawks, Red-shouldered Hawks, Ospreys, and the small but colorful American Kestrels.  Around these perched hawks, slender Northern Harriers fluttered like gigantic butterflies above the grasslands. At times they seemed to bounce along the top of the grass. Each of these species can be found throughout much of the United States.  However, this corridor is also home to some south Texas specialties.  

White-tailed Kite

White-tailed Hawk

I saw a half dozen White-tailed Kites hovering along the roadside; their wings beating fast, holding the bird in place while they searched the fields below for their dinner. The gorgeous White-tailed Hawk, found only in south Texas, was even more common.  Their gleaming white breasts and tails stood out from great distances. Upon closer inspection you could see their rusty shoulder patches.  At the other end of the color spectrum were the mostly black Harris’s Hawks. These social hawks are black with reddish shoulders, white rump and white-tipped tail. Unlike most hawks, they are often seen in small groups.  I could see four of five together on the electric wires or in small trees that dotted the landscape. It occurred to me that in light of the impressive number of hawks seen per mile, I would not want to be a mouse traveling along Highway 100!

Aplomado Falcon

The avian star of this highway is the rare and endangered Aplomado Falcon. This medium-sized falcon was extirpated from the U.S. -- another victim of the widespread use of DDT and excessive grazing by ranchers in the early and mid-20^th century. By the 1940s, Aplomado Falcons were wiped out in this area. They were added to the U.S. Endangered Species List in 1986. In 1993, a non-profit organization called The Peregrine Fund began large scale releases of these falcons back into the coastal prairies of south Texas. 

This falcon is a bird worth slowing down and even slamming on the brakes for.  Indeed, I did stop at the intersection of Old Port Isabel Road (Buena Vista Road on Google Maps) and Texas Highway 100. Old Port Isabel Road is famous among bird watchers as a place to see this elegant falcon but it was too muddy to drive, so I scanned the flat open landscape from the edge of the highway with a spotting scope focusing on the tops of poles, posts, and palms. Aplomados are readily recognized at a long distance because they have a dramatically marked plumage of gray backs (Aplomado means “lead colored” in Spanish.), black and white heads, and varying amounts buffy orange (young) or cinnamon (adults) on their undersides.  It was a rather tedious task to sort through the many raptors perched and soaring in all directions. After having scanned about 180 degrees, I happened to look up from the scope to see this zephyr of a bird flying fast towards me. Immediately I knew it was the Aplomado with its sleek missile shape and long pointed wings. It shot past and gracefully swooped up and landed on a fencepost across the highway. There it afforded beautiful views through the scope. While looking at this bird I could not help but consider that this individual was one of only about 80 living in south Texas. 

It is a wonderful thing that this species once again flies the bluebonnet south Texas skies. And it is a wonderful thing to be, like these roadside raptors, at the top end of the food chain!

 -- Posted by Birder Man, Ted

(photos courtesy of U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service)