The Beatles, Ranked! My Top Five

We're #1!

1
Here, There, and Everywhere (17) I can play it on guitar, I've skated to it, and I danced with many people at my wedding to it. It's everything.

2

While My Guitar Gently Weeps (8) It could have easily been my number one. First song I ever played for Will, holding an earbud up to his ear while cradling him in the NICU. I know everyone gets so excited about Eric Clapton's guitar solo in it, but to be honest, the magic is in George's composition, Paul's piano, and how well Ringo services the song with his percussion. 

3

Abbey Road side two medley (3) It is NOT cheating, as The Beatles Channel, WLAV, and almost every station that touches side two plays it to full duration. Most start with You Never Give Me Your Money, some start all the way back to Because, but everyone plays it all the way through until The End. It is a Fab Symphony. A musical journey. Another match with Sirius/XM!

4

A Day in the Life (6) I feel like I'm copying almost everyone with my top picks, but these are up here for a reason. It starts quietly with a piano intro, tells tales from a newspaper, switches to a guy getting out of bed to grab a bus and fall into a dream, and ends with a symphony and the whole band bashing the same chord on the piano until it dies out, 46 seconds later. EPIC short programs from Michelle Kwan and Jeremy Abbott. 

5

Tomorrow Never Knows (43) If a song like Norweigan Wood wasn't enough of a clue that the boy band was going in a new direction, TNK really hammers that home. 

Sirius/XM did their annual Top 100 countdown over Memorial Day Weekend. A number in parenthesis is that song's position on that countdown. It's not that I don't like Hey Jude (1), I just don't like it as much as the rest of y'all. 

Happy Christmas everyone, play these instead of "Christmas Time is Here Again."

December 2024: Rethinking Jewel Tones

Life's rich palette

Jewel tones are very Christmasy! Example...

Taste: ribbon candy

Touch: hand-blown Christmas ornaments with a mirror finish

Smell: cranberry candles

Hear: Christmas carols

December: That's It, Just One Line - Sympathy for the Devil

I shouted out "Who killed the Kennedys?" when after all, it was you and me. 

This song deserves a deeper dive, but this line is what devastates me. It's easy to blame someone or something else when we act upon on worst instincts... 

Still feeling the anger of the elections. Four more years. 

Across the Prairie: Negro League Baseball and Touched by a Blackbird

My trip around the midwest started its trajectory back home through Kansas City, where I waited for The Negro Leagues Baseball Museum to open at noon on Sunday. We had received invitations to visit time and again throughout the years, but this was my first time on historic 18th and Vine.  The link: www.nlbm.com.

I have an interesting connection to the Negro Leagues as retired player/owner/entrepreneur Ted Rasberry was one of my clients at the Walgreens at Boston and Kalamazoo. He and I talked baseball here and there while he waited for his prescriptions to be filled and he slyly let me know one day that he was a former player. I fan girled on him in that moment, appropriately feeding his ego. Props to him for all he did for youth sports in Grand Rapids, and I'm glad to say there is a field and a youth league named after him. Whitecaps have honored him during Negro League games with replica jerseys. I thought of all the autographs on those clipboards we filed and then threw away. Oh, I found an excellent bio here. Godspeed, Mr. Rasberry. 

I was glad to see the museum was thriving. While empty when I first arrived at 11:30, there was soon a crowd waiting to get in. The site is a combination of Negro League and Jazz museums, along with a special exhibit in the lobby celebrating the voice of Kansas City by way of the black press. More on that later.

Buck O'Neil statue to greet visitors when they first arrive. He is honored as the league's best manager. 

Panoramic of the indoor field with bronze statues to celebrate the best players at each position. 

Negro Leagues honored the ladies who played, including Mamie Johnson, Toni Stone, and Connie Morgan. 

Hats and jerseys honoring each of the teams recognized in the league. This is tricky with rogue offshoots, exhibition teams, and more that laid claim to history. 

The Geddy Lee autographed baseball collection was donated by the bassist several years ago. An ardent fan of baseball (and a Detroit Tigers fan growing up as the Blue Jays did not yet exist), Lee secured many signatures from former players throughout the years and donated the collection to the museum for prosperity. Wikipedia states the initial donation was 200 baseballs; I tried to count all the balls on display, easy to say the collection has grown, and there are at least 350 on display now. 

Surprising champions for the players in the Negro Leagues were the reporters for the communist/socialist newspapers. Short documentaries were on display throughout the museum, chronicling the power of the press on MLB to integrate back in the 1940s. 

Freedom, on display

Speaking of the press... in the lobby is an exhibit on the history of 18th and Vine, which includes the history of the civil rights movement and the power of the black newspapers in Kansas City. After watching the documentary, a man and woman got up to make an announcement: their mother, who was present, was an activist in the 60s, and had gone to jail in Birmingham with Dr. Martin Luther King in the 60s! They were all in town to celebrate her birthday and stopped in to celebrate what she had accomplished, and for some in the family, it was their first time seeing the documentary. 

I was awestruck at her bravery. How hard it must have been to stand up for what is right when those in power say you are wrong. I shook her hand, and words failed me. What do you say to someone that powerful, that graceful, that majestic? I merely said, "Bless you," and she replied, "Thank you, honey" with a squeeze. I met greatness that day and one of my flaws when awestruck, I completely forgot her name. 

It cannot be a coincidence that when I returned to my car to continue my journey home, the first song on the Beatles Channel was Blackbird. To think, I encountered one of the muses that inspired Paul McCartney. 

I add that I am probably mourning the election with you ma'am. You deserved better than this. 

December 2024: Best Meal I Ever Ate, Steak

Yum

I have experienced a lot of tasty steaks in my life. What meal stands out? 

The sit-down dinner on my first night in Daytona Beach, spring break '87, comes to mind. After a 24-hour bus ride of prepackaged snacks, wine coolers, and fast food, the girls and I wanted a nice meal. We walked the strip and found a sit-down restaurant. 

I don't remember the name of the place, and being a group of teenage girls fresh off a bus, it couldn't have been high-end. Being underaged, it could very well have been just a diner or at best, a family restaurant. All I can really remember was getting a steak, potato, salad, and garlic mushrooms. Possibly a Coke. I ate every last bite.

Tired and hungry are usually recipes for a meal hitting the spot. But also, at 17, there was the power of choice. In Daytona Beach, away on my own for the first time, I got a say in where we were going, deciding what to order, and knowing I was picking up the check. 

A taste of independence in more ways than one. 

I haven't lost my preference for steak, either. It is my go-to order when dining out. I'll get a ribeye, a strip, prime rib, pot roast, medallions, or even a porterhouse if I wear my eatin' pants. 

Then again, I've been known to order the fish.

November: That's It, Just One Line - La Isla Bonita

"It all seems like yesterday not far away"

Across the Prairie: Modern Day Laura Musings

If Laura were a teacup...?

This entry originated as a Facebook post on August 8, the beginning of my trip as I loaded up on the Hampton Inn complimentary buffet breakfast. Suppose I should have posted this first instead of last, but glad to take the time after my trip to muse this thought, once again: 

I wonder who Laura would be in the modern era, had she been born in 1967 instead of 1867. It’s an interesting contemplation of the roots of her brilliance: was she a product of her circumstances or was it in her regardless? She loved books, music, storytelling, and her handsome hero Farmer Boy. In between teaching in rural red schoolhouses, she wrote essays and poetry. Raising chickens, she wrote newspaper columns. Sewing buttonholes and scraping together a dollar to move to Missouri, she kept a diary. And after Ma and sister Mary died, she began taking notes.

I imagine modern-day Laura would be living a life similar to one of my other favorite Wisconsin writers, Michael Perry, a guitar-playing, firefighting, farmer who built a shed in the woods in order to drink terrible coffee and write.

I’m sitting here wondering what I get out of these excursions across the plains to stare at replica cabins, musty quilts, handwritten school tablets, and broken china. She told historical fiction about the founding of our country and some of that history is problematic in our modern era; she really painted Ma with a broad, racist brush and asked Pa some hard questions about who the land really belonged to. In her version of the events in which she created the stories that became Little House on the Prairie, I am conflicted with her point of view of Indigenous People; was she othering them when she wanted the baby in the papoose, or was she, in her child-like point of view, connecting with the plight of the Osage through the baby's eyes?

I feel like these books are an important stepping stone towards dialogue as opposed to dismissiveness. After all, I do believe she was quoted as saying if she were a part of the Osage tribe, she would have scalped the first man who tried to claim the beautiful prairie from her. 

I think she leaned into compassion for the plight of the Indians during that time in history but she missed the mark; I'm also judging her 90+ years later. 

Back to her as a more spirited writer, when she wrote, she invited you to delight in a delicious drink of lemonade, find magic playing in a creek, and find a connection to her humanity from long ago.

Will never got into the books but loved the chapter when Laura got a time out for being naughty, he knew exactly how she felt. She hooked me when I picked up On the Banks of Plum Creek, where she noted upon seeing the swimming hole for the first time that suddenly, her whole skin was thirsty; I too knew exactly how that felt.

It’s remarkable that her homesteads still exist, thank goodness for land records from 1870 and 1880. Seeing her living spaces—and not some soundstage—demonstrates how the magic she saw in her surroundings was real.

Good lord, this is a ramble. Best hitch up the Bronco and hit the road.

November 2024: Rethinking Purple

Oh yeaaaaaaah!

Purple is...

Taste: grape Kool-Aid, which kids often request as purple

Touch: chenille sweater that has been worn in

Smell: lavender flowers with a hint of summer 

Hear: Clair de Lune, Debussy 

WTF

It appears we didn't understand the assignment. And a mediocre man takes it from an accomplished woman. We are ok with doing all the heavy lifting but leadership? Aw, that's just going too far...

Americans failed on November 5. 

Why Art Matters: The Lighthouse

Girls, you know what you have to do today...

The Lighthouse, Stevie Nicks
I have my scars, you have yours
Don't let them take your power
Don't leave it alone in the final hours
They'll take your soul, they'll take your power
Don't close your eyes and hope for the best
The dark is out there, the light is going fast
Until the final hours, your life's forever changed
And all the rights that you had yesterday

Are taken away
And now you're afraid
You should be afraid
Should be afraid

Because everything I fought for
Long ago in a dream is gone
Someone said the dream is not over
The dream has just begun, or
Is it a nightmare? Is it a lasting scar?
It is unless you save it and that's that
Unless you stand up and take it back
And take it back

I have my scars, you have yours
Don't let them take your power
Don't leave it alone in the final hours
They'll take your soul, they'll take your power
Unless you stand up and take it back
Try to see the future and get mad
It's slipping through your fingers, you don't have what you had
You don't have much time to get it back

I wanna be the lighthouse
Bring all of you together
Bring it out in a song
Bring it out in stormy weather
Tell them the story

I wanna teach 'em to fight
I wanna tell 'em this has happened before
Don't let it happen again

I have my scars, you have yours
Don't let them take your power
Don't leave it alone in the final hours
They'll take your soul, they'll take your power
Unless you save it and that's that
Unless you stand up and take it back
Try to see the future and get mad
It's slipping through your fingers, you don't have what you had

You don't have much time
You gotta get in the game
You gotta learn how to play
You gotta make a change
You gotta do it today

In the midnight hour, they'll slam the door
Make you forget what you were fighting for
Put you back in your place, they'll shut you down
You better learn how to fight, you better say it out loud

Typing Out Loud: Seeing the Human in the Human

She looks so much like our host daughter Abby in this pic.

At the time of this writing, we are looming in on the eventual end to the election. I know how I'm going to vote, but I am exhausted. 

What is startling to me is the immature rhetoric behind, well, EVERYTHING. One social media post, while praising Taylor Swift for her generous donation to a Louisiana-based food bank on her stop there for the Eras tour, felt the need to drag Kid Rock, assuming Bob Ritchie hasn't done much for his fellow American. 

Oh my no: see blog post from 2012. I may not agree with his politics, but there's no doubt to his charitable works. Ted Nugent as well. 

I sobbed. Plus, fringe.

Also random, the next post was the top 20 countdown from 1980, and at #8 was Stephanie Mill's "Never Knew Love Like This Before." This made me think of the villain, Candy in the show POSE. She was the victim of a hate crime, and the subsequent fantasy montage was of her dancing and lip-syncing to her own funeral, attended by the members of her community in mourning. 

I don't see myself as religious, so this may seem hypocritical, but I beg of you all to see people through the eyes of God. Maybe it will help tame the hateful mud-slinging that is happening now and, I'm guessing, for the next few months. It possibly depends on who wins and who exhibits grace. 

All things on short supply. 

November 2024: Best Meal I Ever Ate: Salad

Yeah, I said it, a SALAD.

I was traveling to Minnesota on a girl's vacation with Lanette and Denise to attend an adult skate camp. It was pretty dash-dash-dash as we were all wrapping up a day at work to take an evening flight up to the Twin Cities. 

No time for dinner and it was a full flight for a short trip, so no free pretzels or peanuts. 

The moment we landed we saw that we were in a minority in our hotel, as it was packed with teenage hockey boys who had the nerve to be afraid of us. Since this trip was an athletic endeavor, we wanted something healthier and a bit more sophisticated than fighting for a table at the burger restaurant in the shared parking lot. 

A quick search for the best restaurants in the area yielded Cooper's Pub. I saw the niçoise salad and had to try it. Spinach, tuna tartare, hard-boiled egg, tomatoes, capers, olives, and chilled French green beans with a simple lemon vinaigrette. I was satisfied, full but not stuffed. 

We had drinks and enjoyed our night out watching the Tigers play the Twins before training diligently for the next three days. In a case of missed opportunity, we resisted the gourmet donuts at the local grocery store, which I suspect would have resulted in the Best Donut I Ever Ate. 

Such is the sacrifice of an adult athlete. 

The Beatles, Ranked! 6-10

Laugh a minute with Lennon

6
Long Long Long The push and pull, the whisper/shout, the rattling bottles, and the genius of Ringo on drums. I was obsessed with this song for about three months straight back in 2015, then again in 2018, and finally, it was the last song I chose for my stint as a DJ on Sirius/XM's My Fab Four. You missed out on contributing to something great, John.

7
Something (10) I mean…! *sigh* It's one of the most romantic songs, ever. George trumps all the over Beatles love songs by creating a MOOD. But props to the rest of the band, this rock song was orchestrated to perfection. 

8-TIE
If I Fell (28) and And I Love Her (44) More Lennon-McCartney ying-yang examples of brilliance from A Hard Days Night. I don't want to separate them. 

9
All My Loving (39) One of the first Beatles songs I was able to play on guitar. Makes a cameo in A Hard Days Night in the nightclub scene. I'm kind of surprised so much of the early work is right here in the top 10.

10
I Feel Fine (65) Feedback giving way to joy. Lennon is up there with Aretha in the fact his humming is better than 99% of the world’s singing. It's honeyed joy. John could be a cynical ass when he wanted, but his pop sensibilities betray him; he had to believe in it, there's no way this could exist without Johnny being the poppermost of the toppermost. And the three-part harmonies of those three singing "I'm in love with her and I feeeeeel fiiiiiine." If I make it to heaven, that's what I want to hear when I get there. 

Sirius/XM did their annual Top 100 countdown over Memorial Day Weekend. A number in parenthesis is that song's position on that countdown. I may have to stuff the ballot box for L3 next year... 

October: That's It, Just One Line - While My Guitar Gently Weeps

"With every mistake we must surely be learning, still my guitar gently weeps"

Across the Prairie: Will the Real Mr. Edwards Please Stand Up?

It's me by the wagon, on an adventure. 

I'm here!

 

A replica cabin built on the approximate site of the actual cabin based on the discovery of foundations. Much research went in to this site, yet it is still sparse. I don't think they knew the actual location until the 1970s, over a hundred years later. 

Here are my diary notes from 8/10/24:

I was going to skate in the morning but the reality is I had to do the Air B'n'B tidy-up, pack, and get to Springfield, which is 45 minutes away. Besides, I had to take a shower in the wash tub!

Must locate coffee or tea at Panera. It's a three-hour drive to Independence, left shortly after 9 a.m.

The well that gave Pa and Mr. Scott fits.

In my husband's words: "Ooo, a placard!"

Noon - arrived in Independence at the site! It's cute, but there's not much here that is authentic outside of Pa's well. Given how much time lapsed between the time they lived there and when they actually found the site, this is not surprising. Blame it on Pa's trouble with distance, saying Independence was 40 miles away when it was only 14. 

They did their best. 

Dr. Tann, Medicine Man

Early days of modern medicine

What is here is the cabin, barn, and garden in the approximate site, an old post office and schoolhouse from the former Wayside village, and a farmhouse that serves as the gift shop. The schoolhouse is not that interesting to me, as none of the Ingalls girls went there; however, there was a nice display honoring Dr. Tann and information on the early days of modern medicine.

Had my LHOTP lunch of a chicken leg left over from Lamberts, bread, and molasses. 

I'm reading a bit of the Tennessee Wildcat, going shopping in the store, attempting to find the graves (edit: I did not), heading to the Oklahoma border, and checking into my hotel. If nothing is going on in town, I'm going to catch up on sleep so I can head to KC in the morning. 

Another example of a frankenwagon as described last year from my Walnut Grove visit. 

Kind of excited to be here. 

How tiny for a family of five. 

The cabin was built faithfully to the descriptions in LHOTP. 

It seems every site has its version of a china shepherdess, another great unknown in the series. 

Barn quilt, a faithful rendering of Laura's dove in the window wedding quilt.

Diagnosis: suspicious.

Laura has inspired legions of superfan authors over the years, and as such, they uncover surprising truths. I took not one, but two online Laura Ingalls classes from Missouri State University to do a deeper dive - yes, I have college credits in Laura Lore! A University of Michigan internist spoke up during rotations regarding the symptoms of scarlet fever and was told she was wrong did retroactive research into Mary's diagnosis to discover she was actually infected with viral meningoencephalitis. There's even a meteorologist who researched The Long Winter to see if Laura was exaggerating or if the weather was really that bad - turns out, it was.

The kind of deep dive only a LauraFan can do.

Our love for Little House means finding out who was the real Mr. Edwards.

Except there is no real Mr. Edwards. 

So who was the Tennessee Wildcat? No one really knows. Author Robynne Miller took a deep dive into Laura's notes, census data, and land records to see if she could sift through the archives and find him. This is a fascinating read, and it was awesome to read the book, next to Pa's well, as Miller combed Montgomery County to find him. 

Answer? Given Laura's young age - she was only three at the time - and the family stories she was remembering, the most likely answer is Mr. Edwards is a composite of kind, fiery, friendly neighbors from nearby homesteads, including Edmund Mason, Charles Thompson, Fred Brown, and possibly more. 

In loving memory of Mr. Edwards, whoever you are, and your Christmas kindness.

Run for the OK border!

I didn't put 2 + 2 together and add Oklahoma City to the trip to see Andre play. Added to missed opportunities, my old pen pal Nancy lives in OKC, and she saw I was nearby and told me next time I'm in OK to look her up. Aw! 

One last look at the Ingalls' Independence homestead.

Pa's fields 154 years later.

I did wonder, with a lingering look at the fields, what could have been had he been allowed to stay. Would the farm have flourished? Did the mid-70s grasshopper swarm that affected them in Minnesota reach as far south as Kansas? 

And if they had stayed and the farm thrived, would the Ingalls children have been healthier? Pa would have had more money to provide food and nutrition for his family, in a climate with mild winters, and access to Dr. Tann. Would Mary have contracted the spinal sickness that robbed her of her sight? What of young Freddie - would he have survived? And what about Carrie, who was approaching puberty during the long winter, and Laura noted in her books that she had suffered from malnutrition the worst during that time? Would all the girls have been able to have children, or more children? Laura had two, one of which died in infancy; Carrie, Mary, and Grace all had none. 

It's notable several times during the books that the family wondered this what if themselves. 

October 2024: Rethinking Gray

When the rain comes...

Gray is conflicting. It's drab but often comforting, such as...

Taste:  cup of cream of mushroom soup, dots of butter and lots of mushrooms, with crusty bread on a rainy day

Touch:  a soft, oversized chunky sweater with silver threads

Smell: an afternoon of rain

Hear:  Rain, The Beatles, although this song is also dark blue to me

Across the Prairie: An Old Friend and Throwed Rolls

LC Class of '87 in the Ozarks!

Before telling tales about Independence, we have to head over to the Ozarks; I spent my last night in Missouri having a lovely dinner at Lambert's - home of the throwed rolls! - with my old friend from high school Carrie. The last time we saw each other was maybe early 1991. 

We have become very different people, so I was nervous about meeting with an old friend. Would we run out of things to say? 

I got there around 3:45 and was startled at the number of people waiting for a table. Lamberts is loud, large, and of course, there is food being thrown around, literally. I looked for Carrie, put our names in, and browsed the menu hanging outside. 

Carrie showed up a few minutes before four and it was as if 30 years melted away. While good people evolve and change, at their core, they are still good people. 

As if by magic, our table was ready and we were seated at a very comfortable booth inside their large dining hall, next to a party of about 20! Staff was hustling to cater to everyone's needs, including our own where we were given swim cups of iced tea and Pepsi. A waiter caught my eye and the next thing I knew, I was tossed a roll, then two, which I plopped in front of Carrie. 

From their menu: this is conservative compared to the serving of chicken I actually received.

I don't know where we started in our conversation but we revisited old loves, new stories, and future plans while ordering dinner. I had fried chicken and she ordered the pork tenderloin. 

In between reminiscing about biology class, we were tossed a napkin full of fried okra. 

We were served cucumbers and onions while talking about prom. 

We laughed over long-ago crushes and the kid who kept coming to our table with a very large pot of black-eyed peas. 

And between stories and laughing, we kept getting pelted with rolls and served what they call the pass around - macaroni, black eyed peas, potatoes. A gal came by and plopped some molasses on a plate. I think I ate two rolls and kept one for my to-go box. 

We talked about our kids, husbands, jobs, hobbies, adventures, reminisced about our school days, and the aches and pains of growing older. Slipping readers out of my purse to read the menu, she laughed and pulled hers out as well. 

Conscious of taking up a table long after we were done eating, we paid our bills - I bought dinner while she surprised me with a cinnamon roll for morning breakfast - we went out onto the porch and people-watching while talking well into the night, finally saying goodbye around 9pm. 

It was a lovely night. 

A rundown of our Lambert's dinner:

• Throwed rolls and molasses
• fried okra
• macaroni and tomatoes
• pickled beets
• cucumbers and onions
• potato salad
• macaroni salad
• fried potatoes
• fried chicken
• pork tenderloin

October 2024: Best Meal I Ever Ate, Candy

Going for broke

One treat that stands out from my childhood was from a day's shopping at the Briarwood Mall in Ann Arbor. We always parked at a certain entrance by Hudsons (now Macy's), which was right by the candy counter. We were promised that if we behaved, we would get a treat on the way out. 

With the promise of sugar, we were angels. I also remember getting the hardcover edition of The First Four Years on this trip. Books and sugar are a siren's call still, some 46 years later. 

When presented with a Willy Wonka array of choices, my mind boggled. Chocolate bar? Bag of cotton candy? Roasted nut goodies? Fistful of penny treats? 

One treat only, my father reminded us. 

I wanted big. I wanted color. I wanted to savor this treat as long as possible. 

I chose a day-long sucker the size of my head that required a wooden dowel instead of an ordinary paper stick. I had it so long, I think my mother insisted on throwing it away after leisurely licking away for weeks. I think I finally got it down to a crescent moon shape before tiring of it and letting it go. 

Across the Prairie: Mansfield, Revisited - Almanzo's Garage, Stone House, and Downtown

 

I was expecting more in Manly's garage.

I hoped to discover and celebrate more about Almanzo, knowing that they created a new exhibit on the site where his garage used to be. The man used to make canes, shoes, oxen yokes, sewing kits, lap desks, lamps, and tables from nothing. He was an expert craftsman in his own right. 

The problem is they are just getting around to curating it, and all they have are hay rakes, work benches, and photographs. The wagon is down the hill in the museum, where I'm sure it has to be in a controlled environment. It will be interesting to see what more they do with this, it was pretty bare. 

The retirement Rock House. 

So I made my way to the Rock House, about a half-mile walk through the mosquito-y woods. It was a pleasant day, but I was told the docet takes her hour lunch at 12:30 and it was just after noon. I didn't want to wait, so I hopped in the car for the longer drive around. I didn't remember it taking that long to get there last time. 

What's so significant about the Rock House? It's where the series started. 

Laura wrote the first four books there. 

Won't you enter the charming English cottage?

So, it's a bed.

More Frank Lloyd Wright inspiration in the closet. 

Modern plumbing. I was interested in the build-ins throughout the house.

Charming sconces in the hall. 

The front parlor, with amazing views of the Ozarks. 

Unspoiled views. 

I knew there used to be a dirt parking lot RIGHT THERE. The docet, a girl in her 20s was unsure.

Once I was done at the farm, I rode into town. There I spotted her bank where all the sweet, sweet LH cash was deposited. 

Town square, where her bust appears. I walked around the base, which is made up of eight triangular slabs to commemorate each of the original books in the series. 

I made it over to the cemetery to pay my respects. My memory failed me; I thought the stones faced north, but these are definitely facing west. I thought there were more trees, but that was 20 years ago.

Hi guys.

People left behind coins as a show of respect. I left something too, a little cowboy hat.

Clever - of course you leave a writer a pen. 

I thought I saw all there was to see, including a trip to the local grocery store for those ginger snaps. I looked for the library that had her name on it but couldn't find it. Too bad, I missed out on seeing more artifacts that had been bequeathed to the library by her, before Roger and his family took over. I've seen the Trundlebed Tales YouTuber video, so while I didn't see it in person, I still got to tour. 

So on the Mansfield trip, I toured the farmhouse, the rock house, the garage, the town, and the cemetery. The magic is in her farmhouse, which she reclaimed in the 30s and where she chose to settle for the remainder of her days. You can feel her spirit and the warmth. The cottage is beautiful and the views spectacular, but I don't know... was it the lack of staging? It just doesn't feature the warmth of the farmhouse, with the bright yellow walls and old lady furnishings. 

Onto Independence, Kansas!