Salem Sue and Second Floor Magic
My best friend recently traveled through North Dakota and kept me updated with his progress. It was a great trip for him as he not only got to see one of his sons and spend time with his granddaughters, but he also had the opportunity to experience good “windshield time” too. Listening to his journey of driving through that state with its rich dark soil, green fields, and miles of flat, open stretches brought back lots of good memories for me. Dave and I used to take a week every late July and with the girls, we would spend a week in Minnesota, his home state. Like many travelers, we peered into the distance and made a contest of who was the first to spot Salem Sue, the nearly 40-foot fiberglass Holstein cow who keeps a watchful eye over local residents and weary travelers. Bismarck served as another frequent stop, as it served as the halfway point for our trip. It was always a relief to reach the border and enter Minnesota, then march on as it meant another three hours until our destination. Dave was never one to dawdle while traveling. I think he had the expectation that two small girls and one grown woman could use the restroom and pick out snacks and drinks with the efficiency and speed of a NASCAR pit crew! As many readers can relate, we had to occasionally referee the squabbles that arose from the back seat and contend with the announcements of “she’s touching me!” and the questions of “how much longer?” that accompany 13-hour road trips.
Thoughts of traveling through North Dakota bring back a favorite childhood memory. When I was a young girl, we didn’t get off the farm very much. Trips to Great Falls, aka, the Big City, which is about 80 miles away, were limited to twice per year--once in August for back-to-school shopping and then once in December for Christmas shopping. Going to Wisconsin, my mom’s home state, was truly a big deal.
We didn’t make this journey very often, maybe three times. I was about eight years on this particular trip. My dad drove, and occasionally my mom would spell him off, and my brother Randall and I rode in the back seat. My dad’s strict rules forbid having any food in the car and drinks were limited to one water jug and a couple plastic drinking glasses. My dad wasn’t a big fan of the radio, either, so other than some occasional chatter, there was lots of quiet time to look out the window and play with the stuffed animals and dolls I brought along.
On this trip, we stayed overnight in Valley City at the Flickertail Inn. I had spent my life in a one-level farmhouse. I can still remember the excitement of learning our room was on the second floor!!! We had to go up a flight of stairs to our room! Surely we were traveling like royalty! I still smile remembering my mom’s joy in seeing the room had a Mr. Coffee machine. She didn’t have one at home…her coffee was made on the stove. She was absolutely thrilled that in the morning she didn’t have to wait for her first cup at the restaurant; she could make it right in the room!!! I didn’t discover the delightfulness of coffee until later in life and couldn’t quite understand her excitement for this simple pleasure…but now as an iced Americano fiend, I truly get it.
Seeing the hotel pool TRULY confirmed to me that we were staying at an exclusive resort, though swimming (or even owning swimsuits) were not even within the realm of our reality, so onward we charged.
I review this memory with mixed feelings. Part of me cringes and thinks “oh my gosh, what a hayseed” and the other part looks back at that young girl with a sense of admiration and delight for her marveling at such a simple pleasure and small things that were out of her ordinary.
Maybe the lesson in this memory is to get ourselves off the farm more often, literally, and figuratively. We all benefit from new experiences. They keep us fresh. They help us grow. They are good for us mentally. They don’t have to be 13-hour car rides. Maybe it’s ordering something new the next time we go to a restaurant. Maybe it’s watching a movie or documentary that is not in our normal selections. Maybe it’s time we give ourselves permission to go watch the baseball game or enjoy the concert that’s happening in the closest city.
I hope that little farm girl who thought a second-floor hotel room was magical never completely disappears. She reminds me that life doesn’t have to be extravagant to be extraordinary. Sometimes all we need is the willingness to leave what’s familiar, look around with fresh eyes, and let ourselves be delighted again.
For more information on the Ask In Earnest initiative, go to http://www.askinearnest.org. Darla Tyler-McSherry, Founder and Visionary of Ask In Earnest, can be reached at askinearnest@hotmail.com.