Rural Wisconsin – Trees, trains, and stories in-between

There is something about a quiet car ride that brings about storytelling mode.  When I drive by myself, I miss having someone to chat with, and I see many things I wish I had my camera along to take pictures of.

So, when Mr. is driving, of course, both the Chatty Cathy and the speed photographer in me pop into action.

Yesterday, Mr. and I hit Highway 53 North for a road trip.  On the way, we discussed the books I’m reading.  When Mr. is a captive audience, I kick into asking things like, “What do you think about this?  Or I’m wondering if this is true?  Or don’t you agree that we could do this better if…?”

This week’s reads consist of books on preventing Alzheimer’s.  We’re in our 50s so it’s a common topic.

I’m feeling sensitive about it this week – we were after all on our way to see my dad who was recently diagnosed with early-stage Alzheimer’s at the age of 80.

Lucky for me, Mr. is a good sport.  He challenges my brain with his comebacks.  And we both commiserate when we can’t remember the same thing.

Me:  “After brunch, I’d like to go shopping at that store that we went to the last time we met Dad for lunch.  What’s it called?”

Mr:  “Yeah, I know the place, I don’t remember the name, do you?”

Me:  “It’ll come to me…just not yet?  Do you remember yet, does it have something to do with Big?”

Mr:  “That’s what keeps coming to my mind, but that’s not it.  We’ll think of it eventually.”

Me:  “Yeah, I just need to think of something else.  Did you remember to try to brush your teeth with the opposite hand like I told you it said to do to try to help build your memory – you know from this book here?”

Mr:  “Nope, forgot to try that.”

Me:  “This book describes how to remember things…(long paragraphs read…and a sigh…).

Mr:  “That seems like a lot of work to remember one thing.”

Me:  “I know…that’s what I thought, too.  This book has a list of what you shouldn’t eat…(another long list read…and a sigh…).

Mr:  “That’s a lot to remember, no wonder your brain is foggy.”

Me:  “I REMEMBERED!  It’s Bargain Bills…that’s the name of the store!”

Mr:  “Yep, you’re right, see I told you you’re being too sensitive and hard on yourself about this memory loss thing. You remembered the name of the store!”

Click, click, click

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Me:  “That is called fracking, right?”

Mr:  “Yep.  They’ve been ramping up production in recent years.”

Me:  “I’m fascinated with the graffiti on the trains.  And, wow, that’s a lot of sand.”

Click, Click

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Mr:  “Yep.”

Me:  “That’s a turkey farm, right?”

Click, Click

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Mr:  “Yep, turkey farms and Barron.”

Me:  “Barron – Dammit…I missed the sign showing support of Chris Kroeze.”

Mr:  “You know you should just keep your camera ready, right?”

Me:  “The city of Barron must be in such an emotional state.  The joy of Chris Kroeze’s success and the horror of the Jayme Closs family.  I sure hope they find her soon.”

Mr:  “Yes, I can’t imagine how hard that is.”

Me:  “We take this next exit, right?”

Mr:  “Yep.”

Our destination, Rice Lake, Wisconsin.

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Me:  “I didn’t know they had a sister city in Japan?  Or that they are a tree and a bird city?”

Mr:  “Me either.”

Me:  “And they have the famous Norske Nook – a place to stop for great pie – not today though, I think we’ll have plenty of calories to burn off and sugar is bad for the brain!”

Mr:  “I wonder if he really is a Mail Man?”

Me:  Click – “You can’t make that kind of stuff up…”

Mr:  “Here we are, our destination to a good ol’ Wisconsin too much food on your plate kinda place.”

Me:  “Yeah, I don’t think there’s anything on the menu that fits the can-eat list in the book.”

After an enjoyable brunch with dad – we piled leftovers, of what we couldn’t eat in one sitting, into handy-dandy take-home boxes, shared goodbye hugs, and see you again soon kisses, and we headed off to wear off the food coma on our way back home.

The geese were happily flying from spot to spot in the sky.

Me:  “There it is…Bargain Bills.”  (Too anxious to shop I had already put away the camera.)

Mr:  “Hmm…I didn’t remember hearing it was closed, or for sale?”

Me:  “Me either.  Well, dagnabit…guess we’ll just head home and listen to the Packer Game on the radio.”

Mr:  “Dang, I was kind of looking forward to walking off the meal before hitting the car seat.”

Me:  “Me too.”

Me:  Breaking the silence – “New Auburn…that’s another famous thing about our area.  Michael Perry lives there.”

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“Somewhere between Garrison Keillor’s idyllic, sweet Lake Wobegon Days and the narrow-mindedness of Sinclair Lewis’s Main Street lies the reality of small-town life.  This is where Michael Perry lives.”  – St. Paul Pioneer Press

Mr:  “Yeah, I couldn’t get into that book, but you did say you liked it.”

Me:  “Looking at the farms and the side roads remind me of his book.”

The rest of the ride we didn’t talk much.  We just listened to the game while I looked out the window and admired the scenery go by.   Thinking about all the rescue stories shared in Michael’s book, I couldn’t help but feel surreal about the sirens that no doubt sounded the night of the murders of Jayme’s parents that night in Barron.

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Small town Bloomer showing off our patriotic state and respect for President Bush.

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And a Christmas tree farm.

I said a silent prayer hoping that Chris does well at the Voice and that Jayme is found and the family can enjoy their Christmas together.

Trees, trains, and stories of the miles in-between, yessiree, we, the folks in rural towns of Wisconsin – “We’re meeting neighbors one siren at a time.”

Post Inspiration:  Ryan Photography Photo for the Week – Trees