Day 60, Saturday April 27, 2024: Deadwood, South Dakota to Chadron, Nebraska

Carnegie libraries visited: Chadron, Nebraska

I shunned the straight path again today and took a winding route from Deadwood through Hisega, Rapid City, Custer, and Hot Springs before ending in Cadron. I chose this route so I could spend most of the day in the Black Hills. The Black Hills are considered a sacred area by American Indians. I bypassed Mount Rushmore, which I had seen previously, and stopped instead at the Crazy Horse Memorial.

Crazy Horse Memorial

I had traveled through the Black Hills while in grad school, on one of the weirdest trips in my life. Andy, one of my buddies, was going to drive from Madison to Seattle to drop Jennifer off so that she could fly to South Korea. Here’s the back story. Jennifer was engaged to be married to a guy from Korea. Everybody in my program knew that Jennifer and Andy were a thing. If you have seen the amazing Korean drama Crash Landing On You you might know where this is going. Even though Andy and Jennifer were in love, Andy would fulfill his self-chosen responsibility of delivering Jennifer to the Seattle airport so she could fly to her betrothed. I had volunteered to go along because, hey! I love to travel and so that I could give Andy company and solace on the way back to Madison.

So the three of us drove the 2000 miles to Seattle without mentioning the heartache I assumed both Jennifer and Andy would face when she departed. I can’t remember the sleeping arrangements yet I’m pretty sure that we all tacitly agreed to pretend that they were not sleeping together. They dropped me off in Pullman, Washington, where my brother Curt was on the faculty at Washington State University, so I could spend some time with him and his wife Melissa.

Actually, I spent most of my time with Melissa, as Curt was at a conference. On the afternoon he was returning, Mel and I headed to their favorite local pub to get a beer before going to the airport to pick him up. Ok, maybe it was two beers, in the same way that when the officer who has pulled you over asks “Have you been drinking?” the stock answer is “Yeah, but I only had two beers” which every officer knows is a lie. We were having such a good time, we entirely forgot about Curt. Pre-smart phone, Curt had no way of contacting us. When he did finally get in touch with us – some hours later – he was definitely, definitely, not amused. 

Several days later, Andy’s car pulled into Curt/Mel’s driveway and I went out to meet him. Them, actually. Andy had not dropped Jennifer off; she was going to ride back with him. They never said anything about this fact, and the 2000 mile trip took a long, long, time.  

While driving through the Black Hills I was listening to the Arkansas baseball game on my Razorback app (Go Hogs!), as I do whenever I have the chance. Cell/Satellite coverage was spotty along the route, so when I lost the stream I put in a CD of the Rifters Live at the Sagebrush, which my son Chris had loaned me. The Rifters lead singer is Rod Taylor, one of the many Philmont legends, and many of the songs are located in northern New Mexico. When I hear the lyrics

Laredo up north to Cimarron

If I'm lost, you know I've gone

To where the spurs that jingle, are the working kind

It's the way of life in the real West

And if I had my way, I guess

I'd ride and rope and wrangle 'till the day I die

I have to pull over for a few minutes. Something must have gotten into my eyes, as they are full of tears.

The Y in Rapid City was large and winding enough for me to get lost a couple of times before I found the cardio room. I hopped on the Echelon stationary bike and rode it long enough to listen to the first two sides of the two-record Beatles’ White Album, just over 45 minutes. (The album begins with “Back in the USSR” and ends with the plaintive “Julia,” written by John Lennon as a tribute to his mother, who was killed by a car while walking across the street. The driver was not drunk; I checked.) The silver-haired man on the elliptical in front of me was watching a Reverend Billy Graham sermon, but he left before Graham finished. The young woman in the ponytail pulled through the back of the baseball cap who replaced him turned Graham off. Some might conclude this is a a comment on life in modern America.

In the locker room mirror, I was a little grossed out to see that my stomach is large enough that droops down. This made me sad, so I stopped by the Silver Lining Creamery to get a double scoop cup (sage and caramel macchiato) before heading down the road.

Alcohol and alcoholism are deeply embedded in American culture and history, and they can appear anywhere and everywhere. One of the founders of Chadron was Charles Henry and Martha King. Their son, Leslie, was born there. Leslie had one claim to fame, and one to infamy. His son, Leslie Lynch King, Jr., would grow up to be president…under a different name: Gerald R. Ford, Jr.. Shortly after Leslie/Gerald was born, Leslie Sr. – by all accounts an abusive alcoholic – “gestured at his wife (Dorothy) and son with a butcher knife and threatened to kill them.” Sixteen days after Leslie/Gerald’s birth, Dorothy packed up their bags and moved to Oak Park, Illinois to live with her sister. There is only one documented instance of Ford meeting his biological father, for a superficial conversation, when Ford was a sophomore in high school. As Gerald put it, Leslie was "a carefree, well-to-do man who didn't really give a damn about the hopes and dreams of his firstborn son".

King’s life was not a happy one. He refused to pay child support, as he had no money and no job; his father had fired him “for mismanaging a warehouse, overdrawing his bank account, and poor personal conduct.” Seventeen years after his divorce, he was arrested for failing to pay alimony. He died in 1941 at the age of 59. If Gerald attended his father's funeral, which is doubtful, he would not have been remembering a happy childhood with him.