I've little to say except to divest myself of two bits that struck me as funny/curious yesterday.
First, while out running a few errands, I found myself at a light behind a Chrysler 300. A nice car, I guess. It looks luxury model-y. The curious thing, to me, was that the car had a license plate border that read "BMW of Lincoln." Really? That doesn't jibe, does it? I mean, if you are going to sport a "BMW of Lincoln" border on your plates, shouldn't you be driving something other than a Chrysler? You know, like, what, a BMW or something? I decided to take a cue from the dude in this vehicle and went right out and put a "Lamborghini of Ceresco" border on my Honda!
In the same span of ten minutes, I was listening to the sports radio talk shows. The comedian/actor/whatever Jay Mohr was sitting in for professional grumbler Jim Rome. In one of his rambly bits, Mohr was discussing the late M Jackson's memorial service. He pondered (I paraphrase): "Why did the casket look like a chafing dish?" I found this amusing and somewhat true. Did you see this monstrosity of gold and general opulence? Honestly, Jacko's casket outdid the sepulchre of many a Renaissance pope. And those dude's knew how to spend some church money on ornament. A chafing dish! And, a very expensive, ornate, gaudy chafing dish, at that. You are NOT going to keep a trough of instant potatoes warm in that chafing dish, let me tell you.
Showing posts with label Ceresco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ceresco. Show all posts
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
The End of A Very Long Western Story: Lodge of the Bear, Old Muddy, and A Palace of Corn
We spent most of our last day in western SD visiting what is 
known officially in the US as Devils Tower. The igneous monolith, made famous as Richard Dreyfuss' obsession in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, is actually known by many other names in the various languages of American Indians. Lakota call it Bear's Lodge Butte. Most of the Indian names have something to do with a bear. The Indian story of the butte's origins involves a bear, a flat rock, and some sisters, if I am not completely mistaken. The bear (which was some kin to the girls turned into a bear, I think), chased the girls. They fled and asked a flat rock to help them. The rock asked the girls to circle the rock several times, and, as they did, the rock rose up to the heavens, forming the butte. As it rose, the bear's claws scratched the characteristic ridges around its perimeter. The girls wound up becoming stars, or something. I don't recall what happened to the bear. At any rate, it's an awesome story (not retold very well...my apologies).
Geologist tell several different stories, but all of them involve magma and cooling and erosion and fractals (or hexagons or something) and millions of years. That story is awesome, too, but, it's a different kind of awesome.
Whatever story you adhere to, Devils Tower is a magnificent site. It towers up out of the gentle hills of eastern Wyoming, creating a spiritual magnet for many. It
has been a sacred site to American Indians (understandably) from time untold. Climbers are drawn to the tower, too. The National Park Service is caught in the middle, trying to respect American Indian spiritual beliefs, yet allowing rock climbers to scamper up and down the ridged face of the formation. Honestly, I don't know if that really is a balance, at all, but I do know that the view into the Belle Fourche Valley from the base of the Tower is a glimpse into paradise itself.
We made it back to Hill City, after taking about a hundred pictures of Devils Tower (we circled the entire thing on foot), in time to see the lighting of Mount Rushmore. My inadequate photography skills left us with little in the way of quality proof of the sight, so I'll spare you. Suffice it to say that it gets chilly in the Black Hills in October when the sun goes down, and you haven't eaten since breakfast.
The next morning we made our way back east. Traveling through southern South Dakota this
time, we crossed the Missouri River at Oacoma and Chamberlain, where they have an extensive Lewis and Clark exhibit at the I90 rest stop. Needless to say, I have had my fill of L & C, after the last couple of years in Missouri, but this was impressive. They even had a full-size replica keel boat inside the rest stop. That's worth a stop (that and having to go to the bathroom, anyway).
Our last destination in SD was Mitchell. Home of the disappointing Corn Palace. We snapped a few pics, but, while admiring the artistry of the corn murals, we found ourselves underwhelmed by the little corny building next to city hall. The fact that within they were staging some extreme fight club event didn't help to increase my "Wow" meter reading.
The sun set as we passed south down US77, through the Winnebago and Omaha Indian Reservations, through the towns of Oakland (the award-winning Swedish capital of Nebraska), Wahoo, Fremont, and Ceresco, and, finally pulled into the drive of our house. A cursory unpacking, and we were off to bed, looking forward to Saturday and Sunday, so we could rest up from our relaxing 2000 mile drive around the wilds of the old Wild West.
known officially in the US as Devils Tower. The igneous monolith, made famous as Richard Dreyfuss' obsession in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, is actually known by many other names in the various languages of American Indians. Lakota call it Bear's Lodge Butte. Most of the Indian names have something to do with a bear. The Indian story of the butte's origins involves a bear, a flat rock, and some sisters, if I am not completely mistaken. The bear (which was some kin to the girls turned into a bear, I think), chased the girls. They fled and asked a flat rock to help them. The rock asked the girls to circle the rock several times, and, as they did, the rock rose up to the heavens, forming the butte. As it rose, the bear's claws scratched the characteristic ridges around its perimeter. The girls wound up becoming stars, or something. I don't recall what happened to the bear. At any rate, it's an awesome story (not retold very well...my apologies).Geologist tell several different stories, but all of them involve magma and cooling and erosion and fractals (or hexagons or something) and millions of years. That story is awesome, too, but, it's a different kind of awesome.
Whatever story you adhere to, Devils Tower is a magnificent site. It towers up out of the gentle hills of eastern Wyoming, creating a spiritual magnet for many. It
has been a sacred site to American Indians (understandably) from time untold. Climbers are drawn to the tower, too. The National Park Service is caught in the middle, trying to respect American Indian spiritual beliefs, yet allowing rock climbers to scamper up and down the ridged face of the formation. Honestly, I don't know if that really is a balance, at all, but I do know that the view into the Belle Fourche Valley from the base of the Tower is a glimpse into paradise itself.We made it back to Hill City, after taking about a hundred pictures of Devils Tower (we circled the entire thing on foot), in time to see the lighting of Mount Rushmore. My inadequate photography skills left us with little in the way of quality proof of the sight, so I'll spare you. Suffice it to say that it gets chilly in the Black Hills in October when the sun goes down, and you haven't eaten since breakfast.
The next morning we made our way back east. Traveling through southern South Dakota this
time, we crossed the Missouri River at Oacoma and Chamberlain, where they have an extensive Lewis and Clark exhibit at the I90 rest stop. Needless to say, I have had my fill of L & C, after the last couple of years in Missouri, but this was impressive. They even had a full-size replica keel boat inside the rest stop. That's worth a stop (that and having to go to the bathroom, anyway).Our last destination in SD was Mitchell. Home of the disappointing Corn Palace. We snapped a few pics, but, while admiring the artistry of the corn murals, we found ourselves underwhelmed by the little corny building next to city hall. The fact that within they were staging some extreme fight club event didn't help to increase my "Wow" meter reading.
The sun set as we passed south down US77, through the Winnebago and Omaha Indian Reservations, through the towns of Oakland (the award-winning Swedish capital of Nebraska), Wahoo, Fremont, and Ceresco, and, finally pulled into the drive of our house. A cursory unpacking, and we were off to bed, looking forward to Saturday and Sunday, so we could rest up from our relaxing 2000 mile drive around the wilds of the old Wild West.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
North to Ceresco!
After two straight days of working on school-related things, I decided to take a morning off and do one of the things I love to do. I tossed the binocs and a map and guide book in the Penguin, along with a power bar and some Gatorade, and off I went to Jack Sinn Wildlife Management Area, twelve miles north of Lincoln and just south of the town of Ceresco. I missed the turn off for the WMA, since the sign is buried in saltgrass, so I got the opportunity to whip through Ceresco. It consists of a Mobil station, Jack's Automotive Shop, and a grain silo (how cliche).
I spun the Penguin around and made the turn on Little Salt Road (The guide book told me to turn east on "the gravel road one mile south of Ceresco." First, how hard would it be to change "the gravel road" to something more definitive, like Little Salt Road? There was a big ass road sign, so it's not like no one would know Little Salt Road when they got there. Second, how would one know they were one mile south of Ceresco if they were headed NORTH?! Let's just say that the guide book MUST be accompanied by a Delorme Atlas at all times.).
Anyway, the trip was okay, even if the gate on the "parking lot" (a patch of grass with a fence around it) was locked. The not-often traveled gravel roads afforded plenty of time for me to sit and scope the land. Plus, I found a different parking lot along the same road--but WEST of the highway--stupid guide book. It was nice to get out and see some more of this flat, flat country. And, I got to see a few new birds for Nebraska, and one new bird for the year--a yellow-billed cuckoo.
In other news, our CD player just broke. I'm thinking a docking station to replace it. We'll see what Monkey has to say about that. At any rate, What I am listening to right now is KZUM.
I spun the Penguin around and made the turn on Little Salt Road (The guide book told me to turn east on "the gravel road one mile south of Ceresco." First, how hard would it be to change "the gravel road" to something more definitive, like Little Salt Road? There was a big ass road sign, so it's not like no one would know Little Salt Road when they got there. Second, how would one know they were one mile south of Ceresco if they were headed NORTH?! Let's just say that the guide book MUST be accompanied by a Delorme Atlas at all times.).
Anyway, the trip was okay, even if the gate on the "parking lot" (a patch of grass with a fence around it) was locked. The not-often traveled gravel roads afforded plenty of time for me to sit and scope the land. Plus, I found a different parking lot along the same road--but WEST of the highway--stupid guide book. It was nice to get out and see some more of this flat, flat country. And, I got to see a few new birds for Nebraska, and one new bird for the year--a yellow-billed cuckoo.
In other news, our CD player just broke. I'm thinking a docking station to replace it. We'll see what Monkey has to say about that. At any rate, What I am listening to right now is KZUM.
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