Country Gal/City Woman: 'Once in a Blue Moon, Part Two'

We Travelers Three did not expect, invite, or even suspect we had three extra passengers aboard Peggy's Little Red Saturn (henceforth to be known as L.R.S.) when we departed Des Moines to complete the second half of our most excellent Iowa Adventure that early Saturday morning in mid-August, 2010.  Now some would take umbrage at being ignored, overlooked and obviously oblivious to us.  Not these three!

"Hitting the road" for us meant traveling on an antiquated two-lane (coming/going) paved country road that cut through miles of bountiful fields of clover, hay, corn, soybeans and something new to our eyes for this Iowa countryside, virtually unchanged for hundreds of years.  Crops of several wind farms and the occasional one wind turbine reaching ever upward toward the hanging puffy white marshmallow clouds that seemed to be beckoning L.R.S. towards Atlantic....Home!  The landscape of Iowa has been "updated," too, it would seem.

Taking the scenic route towards Greenfield on the secondary No. 92 thoroughfare little used by tourists traveling at a more determined speed would bring us to "The Freedom Rock" located in Menlo, just off Highway No. 6., a "Bucket List" must.  "The Freedom Rock" which truly needs to be seen in the flesh to truly appreciate the dedication and physical labor given it by Greenfield artist, Raymond "Bubba" Sorenson II.  "The Freedom Rock" is a huge painstakingly hand-painted boulder, this young man's mural salute to all Veterans, conceived in 1999, repainted before every Memorial Day, "Bubba's" all-weather tribute to our Nation's warriors.  We left the site humming "It's a Grand Night (Day) for Singing!"  Words and music by Rodgers and Hammerstein from the movie, "State Fair."  Five down...

Sometimes one doesn't know one has one until one needs one!  I'm talking Guardian Angels, of course...

Personally, I'm a believer and more so after pondering later in our Super Eight motel room the adventure we Travelers Three experienced upon leaving the green acres surrounding Greenfield.

With veteran driver Peggy at the wheel of L.R.S., Mary riding "shotgun" and Moi safely buckled up in the back seat protected by several sacks of 11th hour nourishment, reading material and the makings of the Class of 1943 centerpiece later to be displayed at the A.H.S. All-Class Reunion, we headed west to the crossroads (where No. 92 and No. 71 meet) that would turn our path homeward bound.

I can see "them" now:  poised for action, ever alert, seeing that really huge white transportation rig barreling down the highway when we did or could not. 

"Them" being Three Guardian Angels (henceforth being known as G.A.) and for identification purposes and your edification, I see them as such:  Peggy's G.A. is modestly gowned in a Kohl's Croft and Barrow's latest fashion creation purchased with a Kohl's employee's discount coupon from the Des Moines store where she is currently taking leave to chaperon her charge around southwest Iowa, sips Raspberry Tea.  Mary's G.A.'s tasteful attire is of a generation-younger style, looks like a Vera Wang knock-off to me, and being a thoroughly modern Granny, has been known to place a wager on any gray horse out the gates on one Saturday in April at Santa Anita Park, sips Passion Fruit Tea and is, naturally,  Jesse's "favorite"...that's a sure bet. 

The third G.A. is far more complex to describe.  We know for certain she is in no way a potential "Hooter's" employee, prefers denim to silk, transcribes scribbled notes at 3 a.m. and harbors none-to-slim aspirations of becoming the Grandma Moses of the Blogging World (the slim chance occurring if Betty White, three years her senior, sticks to winning Oscars and Emmys in the movie-and-television world.), sips real Virgin Strawberry Margaritas at Peppers on Colorado Boulevard in Arcadia when accompanied by family members.

So, there we were, the six of us:  Coming up to the "T", Peggy eased the L.R.S. to a complete stop as per Driver's Education for Seniors.  Just as Peggy was ready to put foot to the pedal, and after the three of us looked in every direction as per instructors' directions, the sudden pinging sound of flying pebbles against metal and glass and the shaking of Mother Earth under L.R.S. virtually engulfed our every sense.  We blinked and sat with mouths soundlessly wide open until we realized what had just happened.   That really big rig had swooshed by within feet of tiny L.R.S. with not even one polite warning horn!  No way would that have happened in California!

"Where did that come from?" was our shaken response.  Scoff if you will, disparage if you must, but we three mortals agreed, in unison, that was some of the best work any Guardian Angel ever pulled off...times three!

...and were immediately assured that an amazing week was in store for the six of us if three of us remained poised for action and ever alert! 

"Friendship, friendship...what a perfect blendship!"

Each evening we followed, once more, a vacation pattern established many years ago upon returning home for short visits, that of driving around this small town, county seat of Cass County, stopping to chat with old friends in rocking chairs on the front porches, watching their grandkids play tag until dusk.  Nowadays these visits take us later into that firefly time, the balmiest part of the day...the town is spreading out, the plowed-under once productive cornfields becoming colorful "front yards" and "relaxing patios" for grilling of grain-fed pigs and cows, Iowa's best!

What hasn't changed is the joy of running into old Buck Town Neighborhood friends at the popular eateries, especially, at the popular Hy-Vee breakfast "nook" on East Seventh Street.  Any given morning, we Travelers Three mingled with guys and dolls we knew from Grant Elementary School to the old High School, sharing hugs and a lot of reminiscing. To be expected, the number of table-mates has slowly dwindled over the years, but not the "fish/tall/true" stories of days gone by which bring all to the close of another fine morning, each knowing not what "tomorrow" brings but for now, we are "restored."   Six down....

One balmy evening we were dinner guests of Alan and Molly Cranston along with Mary Cranston, my brother Ben's widow, all residing in Marne (population 149) about five miles, maybe less, from Atlantic and across the street from the ever-busy ballpark.

All was going well:  great Sloppy Joes made from a secret recipe in a crock pot of immense proportions, followed by a personal tour of the Masonic Lodge, one of the most active in the state and one in which Alan is a proud participant, following in his father's footsteps.  Nothing to require the services of the always poised for action, always alert G.A.'s...not yet anyway.

Taking leave of our Marne family (we would be escorting Mary to her Marne home one block away because of the hour), Peggy eased (being super cautious now) L.R.S. slowly down the slightly ascending driveway.  Noticing a car coming towards us on the narrow lane separating the ballpark from the Cranston home, Peggy stopped to let the vehicle pass without incident, then proceeded to back up while turning the wheel to get us headed for Atlantic.

With only porch lights to guide us and the dark of night upon us, somehow L.R.S. managed to find itself in a rather undesirable tilted position on the banks of a sloping ditch that was completely saturated from another one of those "buckets" of rain the night before, and slippery.  L.R.S. had "overshot" the edge of the pavement by all four wheels.  And if L.R.S. was "tilted, that meant we inside were, too, and it might be time to evacuate before L.R.S. became a real "tilt and roll" calamity, to my way of thinking. 

I can only surmise that those three G.A.'s were busily making haste of Molly's Sloppy Joes as this should not be happening, not at all.

Once Alan and Molly saw our plight, and stopped the repeated choruses of "Oh, my goodness!", Molly came up with Plan B in case Plan A as suggested by Alan, did not pan out.  Plan B was to have Alan bootscoot over a city block to the only bar in town to solicit the help of ten or more motorcyclists (we had counted them on the way to dinner).  Now, in their defense, I will note that, yes, they could have rather effortlessly righted L.R.S. with or without four occupants, but after a 5:30 to 10:30 p.m. happy hour? - Questionable.  OR, Molly added helpfully, "Call What's-his-name, the one with the John Deere tractor" - Plan C.

Being a thinker along the lines of Einstein and Newton, Alan put into play Plan A,  possibly with the help of the three tummy-filled G.A.'s who finally sensed there was trouble afoot.

Planting himself on the more-tilted side of L.R.S., our hero much like Superman of  comic books of old, held the car upright with sinewy 72-year-old arms outstretched as we slowly and carefully, one by one, slid off the two passenger seats onto the slippery slopes and safety.  Never have I wanted all of us to weigh less than at that moment!

With the deftness of a Grand Tyler of all 30,000 Iowa Masons in the year 2001-2002, Alan maneuvered L.R.S. from that predicament to the dry sidewalk amid applause and nervous Irishwomen-type giggling. 

Peggy turned the driving of L.R.S. to our Atlantic lodgings to Mary who has mastered the art of giggling while driving, probably not recommended by a reputable Driver's Education Class for Seniors. 

The last I "saw" of the G.A.'s they were running at a fast clip to catch up, which they did, because they knew more than we did what was going to happen down another road on just another ordinary day in this little piece of heaven called Iowa!

Next stop:  Lewis, Iowa

If you believe in spirits, ghosts and apparitions, the next blog is just for you!