Before we left Minnesota, we gave my sister her box of treasures. There were some framed barn photos that used to hang on the wall of Momma’s cozy little apartment. Most of them were taken by either Momma or me. Phyllis loved and admired them and asked if she could have them when Momma was done with them.
“Not that one,” Momma said when a pretty barn came off the wall and was headed for the box.
I was puzzled. “Why not?”
“You took that one. Don’t you want it back?”
“No. Let Phyllis have them.” Secretly I was pleased that my photos were loved and wanted.
There were some old report cards from Phyllis’s school days in the box too and a few little cookbooks.
Early Wednesday morning we kissed and hugged Phyllis and her daughter Rachel goodbye and headed for our next stop of Presho, South Dakota. We collected our hugs and said our goodbye’s to Phyllis’s husband Jim the night before because he leaves for work really early!
I was a busy girl on this day of our travels. I took over 800 pictures! Not all of them good though.
I love the cows and spring calves...
...and I love when the cows are in the water.
Picking rocks out of the field. That’s a back-breaking job!
You just never know what I’m going to take pictures of, do you?
A pirate ship maybe?
Buffalo! I love the buffalo too.
We started to see signs for Wall Drug hundreds of miles before we got there.
“Let’s stop,” Lori said.
I didn’t know much about Wall Drug at the time but we read the billboards as we drove down the highway. Free ice water! was on a lot of them and so was five cent coffee.
“I guess free ice water was a big thing back in the day,” Lori mused.
Shortly after we passed from Minnesota into South Dakota I see this thing coming at us. “Momma! Look at that!” I exclaimed and started snapping photos.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, a gazelle maybe?” The horns looked like gazelle to me.
I have since found out that this is a sixty-foot tall bull’s head and it’s located near Montrose, South Dakota. There are all kinds of sculptures there and they were created by a man named Wayne Porter.
Wayne’s never taken an art class; he’s self taught. His father taught him the basics of blacksmithing and he’s been making art since he was a little boy.
The name of this place is Porter Sculpture Park and it’s open to the public. There are a lot more there to see then what you can see from the highway. They have golf carts to ride around if you are walking impaired, they are dog friendly, and they encourage you to touch and even climb on the sculptures if you want to. The entry fees are very reasonable but it doesn’t open until after Memorial Day. Even had we known about this place, we were too early in the year to visit it.
There were lots of barns along the way!
We got into Presho late in the afternoon.
The RV park looked pretty deserted but we could see there was a note taped on the glass of the office door.
“I’ll go see what it says,” I volunteered and jumped out before Lori could object.
I read the note and went back to where Lori waited behind the wheel of the RV. “It says if you need a spot to call the phone number,” I reported.
Lori pulled her phone out. “Okay. What’s the number?”
“Oh.” I felt like an idiot as I turned to go back and get it.
Lori turned off the RV. “It’s okay,” she said slightly amused at my lack of foresight. “I’ll go,” and she got out.
I stayed with Momma while Lori made the call. After she was through she came back to tell us what’s going on. “They’re not really open for the season yet and that’s why there isn’t anyone here but she’s just ten minutes up the road and’ll be here in a few minutes.”
We didn’t have long to wait before she showed up and as we were registering, another couple pulled in for the night.
“That’ll be thirty-nine ninty-five,” Beth said.
Lori pulled out a credit card and handed it to her.
“I’m sorry,” she said not taking it. “We don’t have the credit card machine up yet. It’ll have to be cash or check.”
Lori put the card back and went digging in her purse looking for our cash envelope. When you need something it’s always in the bottom of your purse, don’t ya know‽
I turned my attention to the other couple as they put their heads together. “I think I’ve got some cash,” the lady says in a low voice. She pulled her purse from her shoulder, opened it, and started rummaging around in it.
Lori got her change and Beth gave us a verbal thirty second tour. “The restrooms and laundry are on the other end of this building,” she said pointing. “Checkout time is noon. There’s water, sewer and electric on all the sites, take any one you want.”
We thanked her and went back to the RV. Lori started the engine, put it in gear and we idled down the drive. All the sites looked about the same. “How about this one?” Lori asked.
“Fine by me,” I replied.
Lori pulled in and I hopped out to check our levels. “You need to be pretty level for the slide to work right,” the RV rental place told us.
Our RV did not have an automatic leveling system so you had two options to level. You could maneuver around on the site until you were in just the right spot that the gauges mounted on the outside of two sides of the RV said you were level, or you got the leveling blocks out of the cargo bay and drove up on them until you were level. Either way, it was a lot of backing up and going forward and a real pain in the butt!
On this site, we were not having any luck getting the bubble close to level. “Want me to get the blocks?” I offered.
“Let me look first,” Lori said and climbed out from behind the wheel. By now Lori had developed an eye for finding the best spot on our sites but after looking at the lay of the land, she decided to check the next couple of sites. “I think that one over there is more level,” she said when she came back. Then she climbed back in the RV and moved two sites over. She found the sweet spot almost right off and we were set for the night.
After we had set up, Lori settled in to work on her computer and Momma needed to do her meds. “I’m going to do my laundry,” I told them as I gathered my dirty things and headed out.
In the laundry room there were only four washers and four driers. The washers were empty and I took two of them, but someone else had clothes tumbling in two of the driers. As I checked out the other two driers, I see one of them is out of order; I would need another one.
Maybe they’ll be back before I need it, I thought and went back to the RV for my camera.
The bugs were hungry for spring and eagerly sipping nectar from this yet to bloom peony. I saw at least three different species; flies, ants and a ladybug.
The campground was decorated with a western theme. There were cowboy boots with plants in them...
... and all kinds of critter heads hanging on the walls.
I went back to my laundry and saw the owner of the clothes currently occupying the driers had not returned and the driers had stopped.
Well, I guess I’ll start one and maybe they’ll be back soon, I thought. In the very least I can dry my second load after the first one is done.
I put my first load of clothes in the drier and shut the door. I fished a quarter from my pocket and as I went to insert it in the coin slot, I see there’s already a quarter in there. Cool! A free dry. I tried to turn the knob but it wouldn’t turn. This one was out of order too! Now what? I wondered and hung around watching for the owner of the clothes to return and I waited and I waited. This is ridiculous! I thought. They might not come back till midnight! And I decided to take the clothes out of the driers.
I opened the door to the first drier and it was full of jeans. I folded them and made a neat stack on the table. The second drier had hoodies (a hooded sweatshirt) and a jacket in it, a Carhartt. I folded those too.
“Why did you fold them?” you ask. “They were inconsiderate to leave their clothes unattended.”
I know, right! But I can’t do that. Two wrongs don’t make a right and I think it’s the least I can do for being so rude as to handle their belongings.
I finished my laundry and never did see the owner of the work clothes return.
I get back to the RV and climb in the passenger side door. Momma was sitting at the table, an open window beside her and a gentle breeze ruffling her beautiful salt and pepper hair. “Peggy, I think I’d like to go out for a while,” she said.
“Really‽” I was surprised because Momma hadn’t wanted to go out all that much — even though I offered at every campground.
I dropped my laundry on the couch and hurried to help her get changed over from concentrator to portable oxygen tank. Then I left her to make her own way to the front as I went ahead and got the wheelchair from the cargo bay. Momma was waiting in the passenger seat when I got there with her ride.
The day was beautiful and we were enjoying it as I pushed her around and eventually we made our way up onto the patio area that was just off the office. There were chairs and benches made from old wagon wheels and we found a spot to sit and enjoy the breeze. There were flowers blooming...
and birds chattering. Sometimes the sounds of nature are all the conversation two people need, you know what I mean‽
After a while, Momma broke the silence. “I’ve had enough now,” she said and I pushed her back to the RV.
After a light dinner and the dishes were cleaned up, Momma and I settled into our nightly games of Skip-Bo.
I love that game — and Momma does too!
The next morning, Thursday, we were up and on the road by seven. We hadn’t gone more than thirty miles when I see these old farm buildings come into view and I start snapping away.
Then I see a skeleton man walking a skeleton dinosaur on a leash!
“What is that all about?” you wonder.
This, my dears, is called South Dakota’s Original 1880’s Town. It’s near Murdo and even though they were open in May, we didn’t know about it. The man is carrying an axe in his hand but I couldn’t really tell that from my photo. If you get in the area, there are lots of things to do here. You can rent period clothes and walk around all day dressed like a cowboy, Indian or even a saloon girl. You can have breakfast or lunch in a 1950’s Santa Fe dinning car. There’s a museum as well as a lot of the props that were used in the movie Dances With Wolves. Buck, one of the horses ridden in the movie, lived there until he died in 2008 at the age of 33. They have longhorn steers and live entertainment during the season, which officially starts in June! Best of all you can get all of this for a very reasonable rate and wheel chair patrons are free! How cool is that‽
An hour later finds us in Wall, South Dakota, gateway to the Badlands and home of the ultimate tourist attraction known around the globe for it’s FREE ice water, the Wall Drug Store.
We found a big dirt lot to park in and since Momma didn’t want to go in with us, Lori and I left her in the RV and went in by ourselves.
The morning was still cool and I pulled my sweater around me as we made our way a block or so to the store.
This place was HUGE! It just went on and on and on with shop after shop after shop. Lori tried on hats for a while. “A friend of mine has about 65 hats,” she told me, but she didn’t buy one.
We looked around for about 45 minutes, picking up trinkets for our loved ones back home, then we headed to the restaurant.
“The restaurant isn’t open,” we were told, “but the café is.”
The café was at the back of the restaurant and we headed for the cafeteria style line. “Should we get a roll or a breakfast sandwich?” Lori asked.
“I don’t know but let’s get it to go.”
“That’s what I was thinking too,” Lori said and we stood in line to wait our turn.
All around on the walls were these fabulous western paintings. “Can I look around while you get this?” I asked Lori.
“Sure. Go ahead. What do you want?”
“Just get two of whatever you’re getting,” I said. I have such a hard time making up my mind sometimes and everything looked good — I wouldn’t complain no matter what she got for us to eat — and I walked around looking at the art.
I wanted Lori to be able to see me when she came out of the café so I didn’t get too far away, eventually just sitting at one of the empty tables at the back of the restaurant. Then I waited and waited and waited. I was getting tired of waiting. Would it be wrong to leave her and go back to the RV? I wondered. I was thinking about calling Lori and telling her I’d meet her back at the RV when I saw her coming, carrying a white paper food bag.
“I decided on pecan rolls because it was taking too long to get a breakfast sandwich,” she told me.
We made our way to the door and as we pushed through we found the morning was warming nicely. We had gotten too warm and taken our sweaters off while walking around inside and now outside, we found we didn’t need to put them back on for the short walk to the RV.
We get to the door and as I open it I hear a great cry of desperation. “PEGGY!”
The tone of Momma’s voice immediately dropped a lead ball into the pit of my stomach and sent me into a panic. I climbed in and got around the passenger seat like my ass was on fire. “What Momma, what’s wrong?”
She looked okay, sitting there at her station at the table. The window open beside her.
“I’m too hot!” she exclaimed.
Lori was in the driver’s seat by now, got the engine running and the air on.
Without wasting another second, I went to the thermostat, turned it on and got the air blasting to cool the coach down as fast as I could.
I went back to where Momma was sitting, a little red in the face, the sleeves of her heavy button down rolled high above her elbows. She had dressed for the coolness of the morning.
“Momma, why didn’t you call me!” Boy. There’s nothing like feeling bad about something you did and trying to blame someone else for it, is there‽
“My phone was dead,” she said.
“Why didn’t you put it on the charger?” When I set Momma’s things up for this trip, I had her phone charger within an easy arms reach.
“I did!” She was getting exasperated at my thick headedness, but I wasn’t understanding.
“Then why didn’t you call me‽”
“I can’t use my phone when it’s on the charger!”
“Yes you can,” I said. But sometimes I see things as black or white and miss all the shades in between.
“My phone won’t work.”
Momma had indicated to me that she had tried to use her phone before, at least once, when it was on the charger and it didn’t work. But I let it go and took my seat. Maybe her phone wouldn’t work.
Lori, in a conspiring tone of voice, leaned a little my way and said, “From now on one of us always stays with your mother.”
We both felt absolutely horrible about what happened.
On the road again, farms and abandoned buildings go past my window.
And 75 miles later, we see it.
“See what?” you ask.
We see the next stop on this great RV adventure.
“Look Momma!” I excitedly exclaimed.
Above the trees I got my first look at Mt. Rushmore.
We drove through a stone tunnel as we climbed the mountain, winding our way back and forth, and every time I got a glimpse of the presidents, I took their picture.
I hadn’t been all that excited about seeing Mt. Rushmore — until I was seeing it, that is!
When you go through the ticket booth, they sell you a pass that is good for a year. How cool is that‽ There’s only one catch. The passes are issued to a vehicle; they register it to your license plate. Although Lori thought she may bring her grandsons to see Mt. Rushmore in the fall, she wouldn’t be bringing this rented RV and would have to buy a new pass.
We fell in line with the other tourists making their way through the ticket booth gates and we all followed the directional signs to the parking areas. Cars go one way, RV’s and buses go another. We got to the top of the hill and there sat a parking attendant on his golf cart. He saw us and motioned for us to follow him, then he took off down the hill.
“Let’s see if we can park in the handicap area,” Lori said. “It’ll be too hard to push your mother back up this hill.”
Once the attendant pointed out the spot he wanted us to park in, he took off back up the hill before we could talk to him. We got out and stood there for a moment, wondering how to get Momma up the hill when we hear the parking attendant coming back, leading another RV. This time we got to talk to him.
“We have a handicapped person with us,” Lori explained. “Can we park in the handicap area?”
“You sure can,” he said. “But you’ll have to go around again. I’ll call the booth and tell them what’s going on and I’ll wait for you at the top.”
So back in the RV we go and drive around and through the ticket booth again and at the top the attendant met us and directed us to a spot close to the entrance of the national monument.
“Are you ready Momma?” I asked.
“Do I need my jacket?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s cooler here,” I told her. Although she had been too warm when Lori and I were in the tourist trap of Wall Drug, we had gained another 3,000 feet of elevation as we climbed the Black Hills.
Mt. Rushmore is awesome. The photos don’t do it justice at all.
The marble walkway to the viewing platform is called the Avenue of Flags. There are 56 flags to represent the 50 states, one district, three territories, and two commonwealths of the United States. I took a photo at the entryway with Lori and Momma.
We made our way down to the viewing platform and “Wow,” was all I could seem to say as we got closer and closer.
I parked Momma against the wall and took her photo. With the zoom on my camera I could get a pretty decent shot of each of the four presidents.
“Why these four presidents?” you may wonder.
The sculptor, Gutzon Borglum, selected these four because they represented the most important events in the history of the United States. Had it been someone else, we may have had four different presidents there, who knows.
George Washington, our first president, led the Revolutionary War.
Thomas Jefferson, the third president, was the primary author of the Declaration Of Independence.
Theodore Roosevelt, the 26th president was instrumental in negotiating the construction of the Panama Canal — linking the east and the west — as well as for his work in ending large corporate monopolies, ensuring the rights of the common working man.
Abraham Lincoln was the 16th president of the United States. He held us together during the Civil War and signed the Emancipation Proclamation thereby ending slavery.
Lori took a picture with her phone. “Dang,” she cursed. “I don’t have any service. I wanted to send a picture to my son.”
“I can do it,” I volunteered pulling my phone from the waistband of my slacks, (I didn’t have any pockets). “I have service here.” Texting is not new and has been around for years, but I had only recently bought a service plan that included it. “Okay,” she said and posed in front of the presidents as I took her picture. Then she gave me the number and I sent it to her son.
Lori wandered away looking for a spot where her phone would work.
“Momma, let’s go down here and get a picture,” I told her. “I want a picture without the wall behind you.”
I pushed Momma to where the wall gave way to the stairs and I backed her up to where I thought I wanted her.
“Don’t get me too close to the edge,” Momma said, worry evident in her voice.
“I won’t,” and I wasn’t even offended that Momma thought I’d let her roll down the steps. “There’s at least two feet behind you and the top of the steps.”
I set the brakes, took my picture and I think I heard my mother utter a sigh of relief as I rolled her away from the top of the stairs.
Oh. By the way. Momma has one of those faces too.
“What face is that?” you ask.
A take-that-camera-and-shove-it face, that’s what.
Below the viewing platform is a museum and an amphitheater. We didn’t go see them but we could have, had we wanted to. They had an elevator to the lower levels. Other people descended the stairs and sat on the marble benches and there were others still who dared to climb part way up the mountain side.
“He said if you stand in just the right spot, you can see a thumb in Washington’s lapel,” I overheard a woman tell her friend.
“Momma! Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“That you can see a thumb in Washington’s lapel if you stand in just the right spot,” I repeated what I heard.
Momma and I ranged back and forth, going as far as we could in both directions. “I don’t see it,” Momma said.
“Yeah, I don’t either.”
Having seen all there was to see, we head back to the Avenue of Flags and there, sitting on one of the marble benches edging the viewing platform, sat Lori, chatting and laughing on her phone. She obviously found a spot where her phone would work.
We didn’t want to interrupt Lori so we hovered nearby and now that I had eyes for something other than our four handsome presidents, I notice that there was still some snow! A few of the larger mounds survived the warming temps by sheltering under the evergreen trees.
Snow in mid May!
Momma and I decided to use the restrooms so we went on ahead of Lori and made our way back down the Avenue of Flags to the entrance of the memorial where the public restrooms are located. When we came out we didn’t see Lori anywhere.
“Let’s find a place where I can sit in the sun,” I said to Momma and don’t you know, the seat I found was just outside the combination information and gift shop. Momma sat there and eyed the items displayed in the window while I sent a text message to my husband, Michael. I may have been a late bloomer where texting is concerned, but now that I’ve started, I fully embraced it, updating Michael every chance I got.
“Peggy?”
“Yeah Momma?”
“Let’s go in here,” she said indicating the gift shop.
“Let me finish this, then we’ll go.” I finished my text, hit send, closed my archaic flip-phone and stashed it back in my waistband.
I got up from where I was sitting and pushed Momma inside. We were looking at all the storyboards on the walls and we see one for Crazy Horse. “I wonder how far it is to Crazy Horse?” Momma asked.
“I don’t know, let’s ask.”
Momma perused the videos in the gift shop while I stood at the information counter, waiting my turn. The attendant was finishing up with the couple she had been talking to when my phone vibrated against my tummy. I ignored it, thinking it was probably just Mike answering my text.
“How far is it to Crazy Horse?” I asked when she turned her attention to me.
She uncapped a highlighter, pulled an area map from the stack in front of her so it was right-side-up for me, and said, “It’s about 16 miles. You’re here,” and she made a mark at Mt. Rushmore. “Go out the exit and turn right.” She was marking the route for me as she talked. “That’s 244,” she paused and looked up at me to see if I was following.
“Okay,” I said totally feeling like a response was required.
“As you’re leaving the park there’s a spot called Profile Rock and you can see the profile of George Washington from there, so look for that. Then when the road T’s take a left onto US 16 W/385 S.” She continued to mark the route. “You’ll go right past Crazy Horse on the left.” She made another mark, this time at the Crazy Horse Memorial site, then she capped her highlighter and looked up at me, looking pleased with herself. “Can I help you with anything else?”
“Nope, that’s it. Thank you very much!” I exclaimed and smiled and picked up the map she made for me.
I joined Momma in front of the documentaries dedicated to Mt. Rushmore and other national parks. “It’s less than twenty miles,” I told her.
Momma perked up. “Really!”
“Yup.”
“Do you think we could go see it?”
“I don’t know why not. We’ll ask Lori.”
Momma picked out and purchased one of the videos, then we went back outside to wait for Lori. We were doing a little people watching when I see Lori coming. “Here she comes,” I said getting Momma’s attention and standing up.
“Do you need to use the restroom before we go?” Lori asked as she approached.
“We already did.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in a sec,” and she walked away.
Once Lori rejoined us, we headed for the RV. “Can we go see Crazy Horse?” I asked. “It’s less than twenty miles from here.”
“Sure. Where is it?” And I showed her the map. “Just tell me which way to go.”
“Okay.”
We get out of the parking lot and a little way down the road I remember about Profile Rock. “The lady at the information booth told me that there’s a place up here that you can see a profile of George Washington,” I told Momma and Lori and I got my camera ready. “There it is!” I exclaimed when it came into view. I clicked off five or six shots and then it was gone. Lori saw it but Momma, sitting in the coach, sat too high to see it. Across the road was a pull off so you could park but on these windy, twisty roads, we hadn’t seen it in time.
I settled back into my seat and took a few road pictures...
...when I thought, I’m going to tell Mike that we are going to see Crazy Horse. I reached for my phone to text him and it wasn’t in my waistband. I checked my seat; not there. I checked the floor in front of my seat; not there.
“What are you looking for?” Lori asked.“My phone. I can’t find my phone,” I said with an edge of panic in my voice.
“Is it in your sweater pocket?”
I quickly checked. “Uh-uh. It’s not there.”
“Maybe it’s in your bed.”
I got up and checked my bed-couch; not there. I pulled all the blankets and pillows off and shook everything out; not there.
“Is it in your pants?” Momma asked thinking it slipped from my waistband.
“No, I already checked,” but that didn’t stop me from checking all over again.
“Under your seat?” she asked.
“I’ll check again,” and this time I got down and did a visual inspection of the floor under my seat; not there.
“Want me to call it?” Lori asked.
“You can try, but I have my phone on vibrate.” I hate being with people and having a phone ring, and since I carried it next to my belly, I could feel it when it vibrated; I didn’t need it to ring. I could ignore it if I wanted to and no one would even know it rang. That’s the way I liked it.
Lori called my phone and we listened to see if we could hear it vibrating, but with the road noise, we couldn’t.
“When was the last time you used it?” Lori asked.
By now I was really starting to panic and I couldn’t think straight. “I don’t know!” then I took a minute and tried to remember the last time that I did use it. “I took your picture and sent it to your son,” I said.
“Do you think you lost it at Mt. Rushmore?” Lori asked. “Do you want me to turn around and go back?”
“I don’t know what to do,” I replied feeling miserable.
“Help me find a place to turn around,” Lori decided. “We’ll go back.”
Silently I was relieved. We found a wide spot in the road with a pull off on the other side and good visibility in both directions and Lori turned the RV around.
“Did you lose it in the restroom?” Momma asked.
“I don’t know, maybe.” I honestly couldn’t remember what I did with my phone when I used the restroom. Typically I’ll set it on top of the tissue holder or a shelf — if there is one in the stall. Did I forget to pick it back up? “Maybe someone’ll turn it in.”
We hadn’t gone but about seven or eight miles but it still meant going back seven or eight miles and then retracing our route all over again. That’s sixteen miles out of our way because I lost my phone and I felt guilty.
Luckily we had a pass and wouldn’t have to beg our way in, explaining we were just there and I lost my phone. We showed our pass and followed the signs to the RV parking area. At the top of the hill sat the same parking attendant on his golf cart. He motioned us to follow and he took off.
“I’ll let you out here and I’ll go park,” Lori said and I jumped out.
The guy on the golf cart saw and came back. “I lost my phone. Where do I go to see if anyone turned it in?” I asked.
“The ranger station,” he told me. “Go into the information center.”
“Thank you,” I said and took off.
When I went into the information center there was a ranger in there talking with a group of kids. I went up to the counter.
“Can I help you?” the lady asked.
“Did anyone turn a phone in?” I asked.
“You’ll have to speak with the ranger,” she said.
She got the ranger’s attention and he came over to the counter for just a second. “Did anyone turn in a phone? I lost mine.”
“What did it look like?” he asked.
I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t even know what brand of phone I had. “I don’t know, it’s black, and it’s a flip-phone,” was all I could think to say.
“Just a minute,” he said and he left me stand there while he went back to the group of kids.
The ranger resumed his talk with the kids and I zoned out, not listening.
Why is he making me wait? I wondered. Couldn’t he just say yes or no? I stood there feeling guilty yet again. This was taking too long and I was keeping Lori and Momma waiting. Doesn’t he know that people are waiting for me‽ I’m more important than they are! And as soon as I thought the thought, I realized how silly I was being. Of course I’m not more important. I would just have to wait my turn. Patience…patience, was my mantra as I tried to calm all of these weird feelings swirling around inside of me. I had nothing to do but wait and reflect. I felt totally cut off from everyone. I couldn’t just pick up my phone and call or text anyone I wanted to any time I wanted to. Without my phone, I didn’t even have any phone numbers! It was as I was reflecting on all of this that I realized I was on the verge of an anxiety attack.
Acck!
I hated that feeling!
“Now everyone raise your right hand,” Mr. Ranger said. The kids all raised their right hands. “As a Junior Ranger I — and say your name,” then he waited for them to comply, “promise to teach others about what I learned here today,” he paused for them to repeat this part of the oath, then he continued, “explore other parks and historic sites,” another pause, “and help preserve and protect these places,” pause, “so future generations can enjoy them for the next 100 years and beyond.” When all of the kids finished reciting the oath, the ranger proclaimed, “I now pronounce you Junior Rangers!” and the kids cheered. With the help of an assistant, the ranger passed out badges and packets to each of the kids and answered any last minute questions.
When he was done he came back over to the counter where I waited. “Now, what kind of phone was it?”
“Just an old flip-phone,” I said.
“What was the last number you called?” Mr. Ranger asked opening a drawer and getting a piece of scratch paper, then he pulled a pen from his shirt pocket.
“I don’t remember,” I said.
“Well, what’s the first number in your phone book?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I don’t do well under pressure.
“Give me any number in your phone book.”
I gave him the area code and first three digits of Mike’s phone number and he had enough scribbled on his paper that I could see he had it wrong. “No, it’s 5-7-3 area code.” He crossed it out and started again and this time we got down to the last two digits which he transposed. “No, it’s 1-3.”
I had reached the end of his patience as he made a half hearted attempt to correct it. How’s he going to know if it’s my phone if he writes the number wrong? I’m thinking. There was no way anyone was going to decipher his scribbles. The ranger walked to the end of the counter and opened a drawer. He reached in and pulled out a wad of rolled up papers with a rubber band keeping them together. Great! Now the paperwork! I envisioned being there for an hour filling out all of those papers, sending them to some office somewhere and maybe I could get them to mail me my phone, if anyone even turns it in, that is. The parks certainly do have a lot of red tape for a lost phone! Then the ranger took off the rubber band and there was my phone wrapped up in the middle of it!
Oh my goodness! Relief coursed through every vein in my body!
“My phone!” I exclaimed.
Mr. Ranger handed me the phone. “Show me this phone number,” he commanded.
I took my phone, flipped it opened, scrolled through sent calls, and found Mike’s number. “Here it is,” I said turning the phone around so he could see it. The ranger only took a perfunctory glance at the number, he didn’t really check it against what he had written, but he was satisfied it was my phone. Had it been one of those more expensive iPhones he may have been a little more careful.
“Okay, there you go,” he said and made a few notes on the paper my phone had been wrapped in.
“Thank you so much!” I said and I felt like I was walking on air as I went out to the parking lot.
I didn’t have far to walk as the RV was once again parked in the handicapped area. I opened the door and climbed in.
“Did you find your phone?” Lori asked.
“Yep!” I said and showed it to her.
We exit out of the park for a third time and as we head for Crazy Horse I realize I was going to get another crack at Profile Rock.
“Dorothy do you want me to pull over so you can see it?” Lori asked.
“No, I guess not,” Momma replied.
We got back on track and are winding our way down out of the Black Hills when Momma calls me. “Peggy?”
“Yeah Momma?”
“Do you see how much snow is left?” she asked.
“I do!” and I took a few photos.
Once we were down out of the hills, the snow was gone.
It didn’t seem like anytime at all we see the Crazy Horse Memorial come into view. I took pictures from the road and continued to take pictures as we approached the entryway.
We stopped at the booth and an obviously American Indian came up to the RV.
“How many?” he asked.
“There’s three of us,” Lori replied.
“Twenty-eight dollars.”
The admission charge seemed a little salty but we have to remember that this is a private project; they receive no government funding.
We followed the road and as we get to the parking area, I see buses lined up along a curb and people were boarding. Nearby there’s a ticket booth with people lined up to buy tickets. I took everything in at a glance and it appears you need a ticket to go any farther.
“Do you want to go?” Lori asked after we parked.
“No. I don’t think so,” Momma said.
“Do you want to go to the Visitor’s Center and look around?” Lori asked but Momma wasn’t up to that either.
“I’ll stay with Momma if you want to go,” I told Lori.
Lori went on down to the Visitor’s Center and Momma and I …
Guess what we did?
“Played Skip-Bo?” you guess.
You got it. We played Skip-Bo. The time passed quickly and we didn’t mind waiting at all. Did I ever tell you that I love that game?
When Lori came back she was carrying a small bag of souvenirs.
“Peg, if you want to go, I’ll stay with your mom,” Lori offered.
“No, I’m good.”
We all took our seats and buckled up for the next part of our Great RV Adventure.
And with that, we will call this one done!
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