FWIS Goldilocks’ Traveling Adventures June12, 2014 Pat DeKok Spilseth
Tossing & turning in different beds every night while traveling is not my cup of tea. My pillow may be too soft; the bed too hard; the sheets scratchy; not enough blankets to keep me warm. Like Goldilocks, I ‘m fussy about my sleeping accommodations.
On our road trip out west to Montana, Dakota, Wyoming, New Mexico and Mexico this month, I missed my daily routine. My stomach wanted coffee, juice and cereal, muffins or an egg for breakfast before 8AM, a light lunch at noon and a hot meal around 6PM. I’m used to regularity. I prefer a scheduled life, humdrum though it may appear.
No longer am I the adventurer who, on the spur of the moment, hit the open road looking for adventure. I was part of that wacky twosome, Thelma & Louise, during college years in the 60‘s and into my thirties. Now I’m a senior citizen. I’ve traded traveling adventures for remaining at home with my books, music and family. I’m content sitting on the deck overlooking the lake with Buddy, my friendly Beagle, in my lap. I get my thrills reading the daily newspaper or a good mystery.
For me, traveling is hard work. I hate early morning alarms rushing me to get on a 6AM flight, cramped airplane seats, no food on flights and no leg room. Though I enjoy Dave’s traveling privileges flying, being on standby is no longer fun. We used to plan our destination, but it was OK if we landed in a different place. Didn’t matter: Disneyland or Philadelphia, Oslo or Amsterdam, Florida beaches or NYC, Paris or Milano...life was full of unexpected adventures. I could handle that in my 20‘s, 30‘s and 40‘s.
No longer. I don’t want to end up in Florida with bulky sweaters and boots or in San Francisco with only swimsuits and shorts. I prefer some routine: a slightly modified schedule is OK, but not a total change of plans. Last week we rose at 3AM to fly on a 6AM international flight from Mexico City to Dallas, got through customs, but got “bumped” three times trying to fly from Dallas to Mpls. Flights were full! Finally we arrived home in Mpls at 10PM. That trip was too long and stressful. I’m still tired.
Driving through our vast country, from MN to Dakota to Montana took us through lush lands of newly planted green crops, endless blue skies with puffy clouds, past bobbing oil rigs, towering silos, grazing cows and bison. We drove Grandma Agnes’ Olds packed with suitcases and boxes toward towering mountains with wildflowers gracing the land. Driving from Minnesota to Montana is a long haul, through Dakota’s Black Hills to Wyoming into Colorado and finally New Mexico.
Though I don’t remember being there, photos tell me that my folks took me to Mount Rushmore when I was a little girl. Seeing the stoney faces of Washington Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln carved on the mountain filled Dave & me with patriotism, pride in my country.
In Montana we stopped at the Little Big Horn National Park where General George Armstrong Custer’s Company met an overwhelming force of Lakota and Chayene. Mesmirized with a park ranger’s 40 minute talk, we learned about the Battle of Little Bighorn and Sitting Bull, who lived in present day South Dakota. An accomplished hunter and warrior, Sitting Bull was a political and spiritual leader of traditional Lakota culture. He resisted the encroaching westward expansion as he tried to preserve their traditional way of life as nomadic buffalo hunters.
President Grant’s administration had instructed 25 year old General Custer, who had military success in the Civil War, to remove the Lakota Sioux and Cheyenne to the Sioux Reservation in Dakota Territory. In 1876 war broke out between Federal military forces and combined Lakota and Cheyenne tribes. Riding white horses and wearing wool uniforms in the 92 degree heat, Custer and his 7th Cavalry of 262 men lacked water and were vastly outnumbered. They met total defeat at the Battle of the Little Bighorn, June 25, 1876. Although they won the battle, the Indians lost the war against military efforts to end their independent nomadic way of life.
Red granite markers identify fallen Indian warriors at the battle. In contrast, 265 white marble miliary headstones identify Custer and his men’s graves. Monuments to both the cavalery and the Indians have been erected on the grounds. The words of Black Elk “Know the power that is peace” echo at this disquieting scene for those who pause to consider our government’s treatment of native people.
In 1868 the US government believed it “cheaper to feed than to fight the Indians.” Government representatives signed a treaty at Fort Laramie, Wyoming, with the Lakota, Cheyenne and other tribes of the Great Plains making a large area in eastern Wyoming into a permanent Indian reservation. A promise was made to “protect the Indians against all depredations by people of the United States.”
Peace did not last. In 1874 gold was discovered in the Black Hills, the heart of the new Indian reservation. News spread quickly. Gold seekers swarmed into the region in violation of the treaty. Though the army tried to keep the gold seekers out, they kept coming. The Indians left the reservation and resumed raids on settlements and travelers.
Coming home is the best part of a trip for me. Traveling is always an adventure, providing new knowledge of history and interesting people to meet. But like Goldilocks, I’ve found that my big bed at home, sleeping next to Dave & Buddy our Beagle, is just right. Nothing beats home sweet home. 951
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