And then there were two.....

This week, Quentin and I opened our home to a new addition, a tabby named Zeke. Zeke is a loving big grey tabby whose human needed to find a new home for him. It seemed that perhaps Quentin was getting lonely and perhaps needed a companion--to say nothing of the fact that Zeke was a great cat to begin with. The two have adapted to each other relatively well--for cats. Zeke is BIG and dwarfs Quentin. He is also 7 years old, being something akin to an older brother to Quentin. Quentin has followed Zeke around, literally like a doting if somewhat bratty younger sibling. Aside from the odd altercation when Quentin pushes Zeke's buttons a little too much, they do seem to be settling down, even enjoying "squirrelivision" together.



I am becoming "the dude with the cats."

Whither-or is it wither--Route 66?

This past week, I drove back through Tucumcari, New Mexico. This icon of Route 66 has been a familiar stop on many a trip. What struck me, however, is how much is shut down or in decline since I first started visiting a couple of years ago. Many of the shops that were fun to visit are closed and empty. Landmarks like the Blue Swallow motel seem to be closed. Old structures such as the "Frontier Museum" outside of Santa Rosa were once abandoned but amusing features on the landscape. Now it is all but gone, apparently the victim of a fire.

For a while, it seemed like Route 66 nostalgia was the holy grail for many of these communities, attempting to lure visitors off the main interstates. It was this nostalgia that emerged in large part to Michael Wallis' book Route 66: The Mother Road or the near spin-off film, Cars. I was able to be part of that wave, especially when I was part of the Route 66 group at the Southwest Texas Popular Culture Association.

Nowadays, I wonder if that nostalgia boom is starting to wane. It capitalized on baby boomers recalling childhood experiences travelling down the road back in the 1950s and 1960s, much as the past 2 decades' obsession with all things World War II corresponded with boomers' need to honor their parents' efforts as "the greatest generation." As living memory of Route 66 as an actual location ages and fades, I wonder more and more about whether younger generations will carry this interest. After all, when I was a child in the 1970s, Route 66 was already gone. I am old enough to be a grandfather of very young children, making two more generations that have even less connection to the road. In other words, Route 66 was someone else's experience.

The good news is that Route 66 is still a pop culture icon, mainly for its trademark logo. That said, the image is more and more detached from the physical highway. Route 66 is less a place that ties together the central and southwestern parts of the country as much as a marketing image used to sell shot glasses, ball caps, and hamburgers in 1950s-themed restaurants. When Route 66 highway shields decorate brew pubs in Detroit or Toronto, the separation of image from place is all but complete. Why bother patronizing a mom and pop motel in Tucumcari when you can buy a T-shirt at a truck stop in Florida that evokes much the same imagery?

A huge part of the issue is that Route 66 nostaligia is too rooted in the past, too rooted in one time and place. It is about celebrating the 1950s, which is great, but also limiting. Unless contemporary features along the route are part of the nostalgia, from the great cross at Groom, TX to the newly-opened platform for the "Railrunner" in Albuquerque, New Mexico, there is a real danger of Route 66 becoming a dinosaur with a one-way ticket to extinction.

I have long said that there is a difference between preserving the past and mummifying it. Preservation means finding those features that are significant because they still relate to our lives today and give meaning to current populations. Mummification (and those of you who know me know that mummies really creep me out) is about selecting one time and era and simply focusing on it, regardless of whether younger generations even relate to the topic at hand.

In other words, for Route 66 to remain a living entity, it has to be relevant to Generation X, Y, and Z, not just nostalgia fodder for baby boomers' quest to recall their childhoods.

Reflections from a feline traveler

Several individuals have wanted Quentin to do a post on the blog. Now that he has done some traveling, it seemed a good time to let him discuss his take on things:


Yesterday morning, my human loaded me into a carrier when it was still dark. As usual, I make sure he wakes up very early, although last night he tossed and turned and kept me awake a bit! It was sure cold when he loaded me into the big carrier in his jeep. He told me that we were going on "a trip." I didn't like being in the large carrier very much and made sure he knew that! He's a well trained human and figured out a new arrangement. A leash allowed me to roam around the car without the fear that I might leap out at stops.

This seemed to work out pretty well. I got to snooze in the back for a while. Sometimes, I ate and drank out of bowls on the top of the carrier, allowing me to snack while watching the scenery go by. Humans say this is like having something called a dining car. There was one really good stop where I got to watch birds eating seeds in the parking lot.

Many humans wondered how I, as a cat, did as a traveler. Have to say that I didn't mind it. It was fun to see new scenery such as when canyons race by out the window. Those winds out in what humans seem to call "the Panhandle" were a little scary but wow, those tumbleweeds were fun to watch. Sometimes I just wanted to snuggle up to my human and remind him of my presence. He's pretty good to me even if his choice of radio stations seems to hurt my ears sometimes.

All told, I think I might just start to like this travel thing.

"Mr. Q"

Varieties of local history

It's been a while since I had a chance to even update the blog. It also gave you all a chance to read up on "Mr. Q." October is conference season as well a the crunch time for local events. Given the climate of the Midwest, almost everything local that isn't holiday-related is crammed into 6-8 weeks in the spring and 6-8 weeks in the fall.

First there was the Kansas Humanities Council meeting in McPherson, KS. Although Belli Brothers is no longer a fixture with its joint model train and music store, McPherson is still a great place to visit.

Following that I attended the National Trust for Historic Preservation conference in Tulsa. Lots ot great sessions, especially about modern architecture. There was even a session about the preservation of the Tulsa neighorbood of Lortondale. Route 66, Art Deco Architecture, Jamil's Steakhouse, and other features make that city a great place to visit. A freeway system that makes absolutely no sense and confusing signage, but otherwise a good place to visit. Then the conference got to visit Greenwood, the African American neighborhood that was attacked in 1921 and the sight of one of the nation's worst race riots. My tour even got to listen to a survivor of the event, who was 4 at the time and remembered fleeing his home before the house got looted and burned. It is a story that Tulsa is just now starting to come to terms with. It even put a discordant note on the rest of the city: one wonders how many of those great Art Deco buildings along Route 66 had builders and occupants who took part in that race riot.

Then there was the Kansas Museums Association in Manhattan, KS. A good conference as well. They really pulled out all the stops for us there.

Then, last week, I was part of the centennial ceremony of the Harper County courthouse in Anthony, KS. It was sure brisk that morning but a good event. That afternoon, I got to be in the parade as one of the "dignitaries" at the morning's event. Sitting in the seat of a 1923 Ford model T, I got to participate in one of the ultimate of small town traditions: a main street parade. Talk about Americana.

The following day, I helped out at Temple Emanu-El's major community feed: deli days. Good as ever. This time, they made, in my opinion, the wise choice to have bagels and lox instead of chopped liver.

Now that the events are over, I "just" my my regular stuff to do such as teaching, work on the 1950s church article, and now a new project: a photo history of the Lebanese community of Wichita. Lots to do. Maybe I'll have Quentin update the blog from time to time.

Stay tuned!

The Arrival of Hurricane Quentin

At the surrender at the Battle of Yorktown, the band played "The World Turned Upside Down." That has been my theme this week with the arrival of a new kitten. Sunday morning, I was going to breakfast and met a woman who was taking a walk and found a kitten following her. The little one was, well, just too cute to say no. 15 years of catless existence ended Sunday night, when I got home from a local history event in Ivanpah, Kansas (more on that in a later post).

How can such a little thing transform a life so completely so fast? Old items (collected golf balls, promotional foam items, and empty film cannisters) that I didn't know what to do with now become cat toys. I am getting used to doing things one-handed, since the other one is usually holding a cat toy on a string. Let's just say grading is a challenge since moving pens are now VERY interesting items. I have made the transition: when I am out of the house, I no longer worry just about whether the kitten is okay. I now also worry about whether the apartment and its contents are okay.

I also found naming a challenge. Cats have, it seems, multiple names. Several nicknames are event specific such as "Velcro." Officially, he has a title: Lord Ivanpaw (after the little community I visited the day I got him). Then there are the actual names I have gone through. Just when I thought I had THE name, it didn't seem to fit the next day. Some are great cat names, like Hiram, Macintosh, or Murdock, but they just weren't HIS name. I had to come up with something for the vet records and selected "Winston," which I felt was close but not quite right. That evening, though, "Winston" morphed into "Quentin." Quentin has become his name and this is the name that has stuck and feels right. Hey, if it was good enough for Teddy Roosevelt's son, it's good enough for a ten-week old kitten. It even adapts nicely to the old Roman naming system: Felis Pretinus Quintus (the cat, of the Price family, called Quentin). Of course, for the next several months, he'll probably assume his name is "No!" or "Stop!"

Regardless, the road worrier has a new fellow traveler, who, in time, I suspect will be making his own observations on Kansas life.

Now Them's Good Eatin'

Being a road worrier requires nourishment along the way. Fortunately, this country is very lucky to have lots of good restaurants to select. While on my last road trip to NM, a couple of places became new favorites.

In Guymon, OK, Naifeh's is a steakhouse run by a Lebanese family. Turns out one member of the family has Wichita connections! Nothing like food to make ties across state boundaries. In Las Vegas, NM, there is the "Spic and Span." Good Mexican food with a little kick to the chile. Forget healthy. We're talking'big portions and eclairs the size of dinner plates. Reinforces my firm belief that gluttony is the best of the seven deadly sins--followed closely by sloth.

For something completely unique, in Santa Fe, there is a chocolate place called "Kakawa" that specializes in historic and even prehistoric chocolate recipes. It is a surprise to many that chocolate began, not as a food, but as a drink. The earliest reciples include a beverage called "Aztec Warrior," a bitter drink (pure chocolate has a very bitter flavor and is not sweet at all) laced with hot chile. I settled for the "atole" with cornmeal as an ingredient, a resulting concoction that tasted a little like malted milk. Check out http://www.kakawachocolates.com/ for more info.

In Ashland, Kansas, there is the Hardesty House, an old hotel that also offers steaks. The smothered steak is a good option here. Another great attraction to this location, by the way, is the building itself. It is one of the few of the old hotels that still has massive clerestory windows in the interior walls, a holdover from the days when buildings did not have lights in every room or air conditioning and clerestories were common features for lighting and ventilation. The Kansas to New Mexico run has other options, too, such as El Charro in Dodge City, the Eklund Hotel in Clayton, and the Brown Hotel and Cafe in Springer.

There are some distinct features that keep cropping up. Mexican food is one. Sadly, my goal of eating at a Mexican restaurant that openly proclaims serving "inauthentic" Mexican food remains unfulfulled. "Authentic" Mexican food is your only option, if you believe the signs and the menus. Beef is another feature. If you like steak, you can see and smell your future supper walking around as you drive by. Out here, chicken IS the vegetarian option. Dessert is important and the fruit pie has an important role in preventing scurvy since fruits and vegetables may be rather rare commodities on the dinner plate.

A lot of foodways on the western high plans still have traces of the 1950s in their preparation: a heavy reliance on pre-prepared things. The idea that there are other lettuces than iceberg and other dressings besides ranch and thousand island has yet to reach this part of the country. Still, if you want a blast from the past, you can't beat the high plains for heritage eating.

A dusty drive down memory lane

Things have been quiet here with the Road Worrier for the past few weeks but recently, some new adventures have cropped up. Last week, after visiting the Flint Hills with my friend and colleague Cheryl Unruh (check out her http://www.flyoverpeople.net/ for that story), I headed back to New Mexico. Today, my dad and I got a chance to visit some land, including an old ranch house, that the family once owned. The ranch was a vacation house where we spent a lot of weekends during my early years. I had not quite realized how much that little ranch had shaped me during my growing up. I sorta knew it then but now really can see how much my appreciation of the NM landscape came from those times out there. This was a place with electricity but no running water. We had to use an outhouse but at night we listened to the local Spanish stations from Las Vegas NM on the radio (no TV reception either). In these years of the late 1970s and early 1980s, there were no cell phones to annoy, no satellite TV with 300 channels and no wii game sticks to distract us. It was quiet and relaxing--the occasional chore notwithstanding.

Going back now decades later, it is amazing how much has changed and how little has changed.

The area was and is very remote. It is a place where, as my dad says, you want to drive on the upper half of the tank (your gas tank over half full) since there aren't a lot of facilities for the motorist out here. The roads are dirt out here. Little twists and turns that I had long forgotten. The earth is a lot more reddish than I remembered. The desert plants have a spicy smell. Some of the old adobes are now in ruins. Even took a picture in one old home of the remains of a chair in a room.

Other families have brought in mobile homes. Prefab to the rescue when maintaining adobe is too much, I guess. I am glad I made it back there.