Out of the country, going to college
So, I'm an hour outside of Jefferson City on Monday, when Velma's Dad, David gets me on my cell phone:
"When you come through Booneville, get off and stop in at the Walmart. It's easy to find," he says. He continues, "Go on in there and get yourself a deer tag and a hunting license, then go on down Hwy 87, stop in at the farm, Dad's waiting for you to go out," referring to Velma's granddad.
Following his instructions, I went on into the Walmart, feeling very out of place, and the nice fellow at the hunting rack didn't blink when I asked him for the tag and license in my best Missourian accent. We had all the information filled out ready to go when he asked to see my "Hunter Safety Card". Uhhhhh. No deer tag and hunting license for me. Alas.
I went down to the farm anyway, slightly nervous about seeing Velma's grandparents on my own. I had spent quite a bit of time with them years ago when Velma and I were together, but I wasn't sure how I would be received on this visit. Gratefully, they welcomed me warmly back into their home. After a quick chat, they outfitted me with the necessary hunting arrangement and Harold and I drove up to a hill out on their property line. Even though I couldn't hunt myself, I was still happy to go along with Harold and enjoy the experience.
The hunt turned out to be very interesting but far less dramatic than I had been romanticizing it on my way to Walmart. We got out of the truck and walked a minute to a blind that Harold had set up overlooking a small field and milo patch. The blind was a fancy tent-like structure in camo fabric with netting windows. Inside, we had a pair of seats, a portable propane heater and a pee-bottle. Very plush indeed. Harold generally prefers bow hunting and nature videotaping to rifles, but he brought the gun along anyway, just in case we saw something worth bagging, I could get the complete exposure.
We sat out there for about two hours as we kept an eye on the field and I listened to the sounds of nature and to Harold's incredible repertoire of stories and knowledge. By the time is was dark, we hadn't seen but a small doe way out in the milo patch that wasn't worth bothering. Still, I was both fascinated and relaxed by my time out there.
After heading back to the farm, I stayed and chatted a bit more with the Gentzsch Elders and then headed into Jeff City to see David for the first time in years-- again, I was needlessly nervous.
Incidentally, I had a bit of a revelation as I left the interstate and drove down through the rolling foothills and curvy roads that make up most of rural Missouri. In the past two and a half weeks, I'd driven across some spectacular country, from 11,000' mountain passes to red rock river gorges to autumn wooded desert canyons. None of it affected me more than the Missouri countryside. There's a simple and elegantly accessible beauty out there that compels me. I'll add that to the unofficial collection of stuff I'm learning about myself.
Dodging down the backroads, I made it to Jeff and David's house. I was greeted by warm smiles and a hot wood stove and felt immediately at home. David, his new wife, Terri, and I stayed up late chatting about everything as we all caught up on our various progresses over the past years.
The next morning, David and I got up for a run through the freezing rain out to the Capital Building and back. Returned, soaked in the hot tub, cleaned up and then went down the the wool shop. In the past year or so, David has resurrected an old trade of his in the form of Ozark Handspun. He's now in the business of dying and spinning high quality yarns to feed the insatiably popular knitting boom. He showed me his whole process and I even got to help out packaging skeins.
Time for lunch, we headed over to meet Terri at Central Dairy for ice cream, yaay! The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting with David about everything from philosophy to real estate investing. That evening, David and I went out to the farm together with a bucket of fried chicken in hand. Harold and I went out to another blind for an hour or so before dark and returned leaving behind a 35-point buck that was too beautiful to shoot.
Back at the house, we were joined by Velma's 18 year old cousin Jason, with whom I'd spent some fun times with in the past. Marie cooked some tasty accoutrement for the chicken and we sat and ate and talked along for several more hours before David and I took our leave and headed back into Jeff. That night, Terri, David and I enjoyed each other's company till nearly 2am.
David and I ran again this morning, after which I cleaned up and took my leave. My heart is still gladdened by the clan's generous welcome-- it was the first time I felt at home since I left Menlo.
The drive to St. Lou passed quickly as I spent most of the time on the phone with Velma giving her the complete low-down on my visit. After she hung up, I got of the highway in Clayton and rolled towards the Wash U campus, the giddy feeling of nostalgic homecoming bubbling in my chest.
I parked my car near Mallinkrodt Center and walked through the campus to the Engineering School. Lots of interesting thoughts here. For one, I felt old and out of touch when I was here a year and a half ago. This time, though, maybe because I'm a happier and carefree, the campus energy feels comfortable and refreshing.
Second and happily, the Engineering School was festooned with posters for student activities that saw big change during my tenure here, ten to six years ago. The Verigo party that we founded was the best ever this year and featured a lighted dance floor built by the IEEE. Humph, we never did actual engineering for Vertigo when I was in school. Back in those days, all you needed for an Engineering dance party was a few kegs and "You Don't Know Jack" on the projector.
I'm also glad to report that the advertising for Cheap Lunch seems to have continued its creative omnipresence.
Walking around campus, I'm amazed at how small the quads feel. I remember those distances to be a lot longer to walk. I haven't seen the Brookings quad yet, but I'm already recalibrating my memories.
I'm here in the rejuvenated Olin Library now (a place I never went into as a student), scamming a computer terminal. I have to jet and meet up Andrea Heugatter, one of my favourite professors. Then, it's off to a Wednesday night beer bash at the Sig Ep. Hah.
"When you come through Booneville, get off and stop in at the Walmart. It's easy to find," he says. He continues, "Go on in there and get yourself a deer tag and a hunting license, then go on down Hwy 87, stop in at the farm, Dad's waiting for you to go out," referring to Velma's granddad.
Following his instructions, I went on into the Walmart, feeling very out of place, and the nice fellow at the hunting rack didn't blink when I asked him for the tag and license in my best Missourian accent. We had all the information filled out ready to go when he asked to see my "Hunter Safety Card". Uhhhhh. No deer tag and hunting license for me. Alas.
I went down to the farm anyway, slightly nervous about seeing Velma's grandparents on my own. I had spent quite a bit of time with them years ago when Velma and I were together, but I wasn't sure how I would be received on this visit. Gratefully, they welcomed me warmly back into their home. After a quick chat, they outfitted me with the necessary hunting arrangement and Harold and I drove up to a hill out on their property line. Even though I couldn't hunt myself, I was still happy to go along with Harold and enjoy the experience.
The hunt turned out to be very interesting but far less dramatic than I had been romanticizing it on my way to Walmart. We got out of the truck and walked a minute to a blind that Harold had set up overlooking a small field and milo patch. The blind was a fancy tent-like structure in camo fabric with netting windows. Inside, we had a pair of seats, a portable propane heater and a pee-bottle. Very plush indeed. Harold generally prefers bow hunting and nature videotaping to rifles, but he brought the gun along anyway, just in case we saw something worth bagging, I could get the complete exposure.
We sat out there for about two hours as we kept an eye on the field and I listened to the sounds of nature and to Harold's incredible repertoire of stories and knowledge. By the time is was dark, we hadn't seen but a small doe way out in the milo patch that wasn't worth bothering. Still, I was both fascinated and relaxed by my time out there.
After heading back to the farm, I stayed and chatted a bit more with the Gentzsch Elders and then headed into Jeff City to see David for the first time in years-- again, I was needlessly nervous.
Incidentally, I had a bit of a revelation as I left the interstate and drove down through the rolling foothills and curvy roads that make up most of rural Missouri. In the past two and a half weeks, I'd driven across some spectacular country, from 11,000' mountain passes to red rock river gorges to autumn wooded desert canyons. None of it affected me more than the Missouri countryside. There's a simple and elegantly accessible beauty out there that compels me. I'll add that to the unofficial collection of stuff I'm learning about myself.
Dodging down the backroads, I made it to Jeff and David's house. I was greeted by warm smiles and a hot wood stove and felt immediately at home. David, his new wife, Terri, and I stayed up late chatting about everything as we all caught up on our various progresses over the past years.
The next morning, David and I got up for a run through the freezing rain out to the Capital Building and back. Returned, soaked in the hot tub, cleaned up and then went down the the wool shop. In the past year or so, David has resurrected an old trade of his in the form of Ozark Handspun. He's now in the business of dying and spinning high quality yarns to feed the insatiably popular knitting boom. He showed me his whole process and I even got to help out packaging skeins.
Time for lunch, we headed over to meet Terri at Central Dairy for ice cream, yaay! The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting with David about everything from philosophy to real estate investing. That evening, David and I went out to the farm together with a bucket of fried chicken in hand. Harold and I went out to another blind for an hour or so before dark and returned leaving behind a 35-point buck that was too beautiful to shoot.
Back at the house, we were joined by Velma's 18 year old cousin Jason, with whom I'd spent some fun times with in the past. Marie cooked some tasty accoutrement for the chicken and we sat and ate and talked along for several more hours before David and I took our leave and headed back into Jeff. That night, Terri, David and I enjoyed each other's company till nearly 2am.
David and I ran again this morning, after which I cleaned up and took my leave. My heart is still gladdened by the clan's generous welcome-- it was the first time I felt at home since I left Menlo.
The drive to St. Lou passed quickly as I spent most of the time on the phone with Velma giving her the complete low-down on my visit. After she hung up, I got of the highway in Clayton and rolled towards the Wash U campus, the giddy feeling of nostalgic homecoming bubbling in my chest.
I parked my car near Mallinkrodt Center and walked through the campus to the Engineering School. Lots of interesting thoughts here. For one, I felt old and out of touch when I was here a year and a half ago. This time, though, maybe because I'm a happier and carefree, the campus energy feels comfortable and refreshing.
Second and happily, the Engineering School was festooned with posters for student activities that saw big change during my tenure here, ten to six years ago. The Verigo party that we founded was the best ever this year and featured a lighted dance floor built by the IEEE. Humph, we never did actual engineering for Vertigo when I was in school. Back in those days, all you needed for an Engineering dance party was a few kegs and "You Don't Know Jack" on the projector.
I'm also glad to report that the advertising for Cheap Lunch seems to have continued its creative omnipresence.
Walking around campus, I'm amazed at how small the quads feel. I remember those distances to be a lot longer to walk. I haven't seen the Brookings quad yet, but I'm already recalibrating my memories.
I'm here in the rejuvenated Olin Library now (a place I never went into as a student), scamming a computer terminal. I have to jet and meet up Andrea Heugatter, one of my favourite professors. Then, it's off to a Wednesday night beer bash at the Sig Ep. Hah.
posted by Scottley at 1:37 PM
3 Comments:
Stop it, you're making me homesick :)
Say hi to Andrea for me!
Love reading about it scott.
My feelings on the beauty of places like missouri, or wherever, are that only some of them are. And only the ones that you experienced and lived in for some other reason.
There are parts of australia that aren't very pretty, but they are lovely to me as I drove around in them a lot, going elsewhere, coming home. Same for parts of the California.
ramblerambleramble
So, what has happened to Mr. Simon? Has he fallen off the map? Where is he now?
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