So maybe I have an over active imagination or possibly I have read far too many of the Laura Ingalls Wilder stories. It might have been the numerous historical signs scattered every few miles down the most barren parts of I-70 heading west from St. Louis.In my mind, my horseless covered wagon was carrying me out west, to Kansas City. I could imagine countless women and girls sitting in their wagons fingers moving much like mine were. I was knitting a pair of wristers, using the busy activity to keep myself from going crazy during the almost 250 mile drive. As we passed the various historical markers, I found myself wondering about the people that had headed west, settling those little towns that still remain today. After you crossed the Mississippi and started heading west, Kansas City was the next stop.
I had lived in Kansas City over 32 years ago. I had been a fourth grader when we lived at Richards Gebaur AFB. I don't really remember it, I do remember our huge yard where my sister and I played for hours. I remember discovering a rather strong allergy to bees. And I vaguely remember our neighbor, it seems she was the one that made those yummy Popsicle cubes that were made in ice cube trays with tooth pick holders.
When we lived in Colorado Springs, several decades ago, I had driven through numerous times while driving back and forth to St. Louis. But this was to be the first time I have spent the night there in over three decades.
As I was thinking backwards in time driving down the highway, I was remembering and imagining the past. Some of it was my own memories, some was the history buff in me remembering what I have read over the years.
The names of the little towns had me smiling, some of those little towns are so small that if you blinked you missed them. Completely. I had hubby's hat on, blocking the sun from my eyes so I could finish the last wrister despite the setting sun and our forward journey west. I was thinking about the Kansas City Star and all the quilt patterns that they had printed for those homemakers of old. Wondering if those industrious women had been knitting mittens and socks to keep their families warm during the coming winter.
Just outside of Independence I-70 becomes known as the Truman/Eisenhower Highway. Missouri has given us a few presidents after all. Kansas City was glistening on the horizon. I got distracted for a bit. What a difference Kansas City is from St. Louis. The only part that looked familiar was the highways, I guess those haven't really changed in over 20 years. I started snapping pictures and stopped day dreaming...
When it happened, just as my brain was starting to move back to those beautiful quilt patterns, those busy ladies working to keep their families warm, but adding sheer beauty at the same time... there right before me was the Kansas City Star. Now I am not sure it's in the original location, but the connection with where my brain was was jolting!
Our hotel is great! I am going to really enjoy the next two days! Hubby will be working, me... well I brought my spinning wheel, lots of fiber and a bag of yarns. I have a lot of creating that I want to do, and I am looking forward to taking my time and getting it done.
There is some true beauty here in Kansas City, and Hubby and I got to go enjoy a short drive tonight. The Power & Light District was spectacular! Although the little bitty greasy spoon we found in the Art District had my complete attention. I promise we weren't cheating on our favorite greasy spoon in St. Louis... but we just completely love those little places that have survived despite the modern world trying to squeeze them out.
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