Prairie Museum – McCook, NE

Bison statue outside the museum.  Serves as a reminder that when we celebrate something – it is often dead. Look at how much York is celebrating MANUFACTURING with all the industrial artwork downtown and Manufacturing Day. Manufacturing Day was everyday, except maybe Sunday.

 

 

Near by

Kool-Aid was invented near McCook. The gents tried to ship by rail their 6 fruit flavored drinks that they concocted in their pharmacy. The bottles leaked and much like any parent who has allowed their small children to eat or drink in the car, the railroad was quite put out by the sticky mess the heat expanding, leaky, corked bottles, made all over the cargo area of the freight cars. The brothers converted their liquid gold into crystals. Magic crystals. An empire was born!

The original pharmacy has been moved inside the museum – yes – it’s not much larger than a generous shed or small garage outbuilding compared to todays standards. 

 

 

 

 

 

Jesus

Many items in the museum I remember from an earlier time in my life. This image looks a lot like the one I remember hanging in the front of the Paddletown United Methodist Church. 

Tools and discarded farm implements that we played with and lost in the 500 acre wood are here on display. 

Once again begging the question with which we started our journey – when does trash become history?

 

On that note: 

I ain’t trash. I’m HISTORY! Walking history!

 

 

 

 

By Train, By BUs

Rows and rows of benches like this one were in many of the bus and train stations that crisscrossed the east. I remember sitting on them in places like Augusta, Philly, NY, Boston, Toronto. 

I wonder if they still exist, or have been replaced by the more utilitarian seats that populate our airports. 

My last train ride was in 1986. Pip – you were on it, with Rich and Russ and your mom and I. We slept in a sleeper car on our overnight ride from Harrisburg to Chicago. 

My last plane ride was in 2017? Can’t stand the ride or security theater that one must participate in to ride. I’d much rather hit the open road and drive like we are doing now.  So much is missed flying over drive thru country. 

 

 

Harr’s drive in

They had a movie projector like this. They still might. Remember the old guy smoking the fat stogie in the doorway to the projection room? He’s half-in to keep an eye on the projector, and half-out to watch the show. 

We’d go early to get a good up-front, right under the big screen, spot to watch the double headers.  Burgers, hotdogs, soda, popcorn, and BOCCE!!! were in order, becaauusse….. EVERYONE LOVES BOCCE!!!!

Kids would come over and ask, ‘Whatcha playin?’ 

‘Bocce,’ we’d say.

‘What’s Bocce?’

‘Come play with us – everyone looooves Bocce,’ we’d reply.

We would play, sometimes nearly a dozen kids with our 8 aluminum, made in England balls that PIP and I lugged all 50 pounds of which home from our trip to the United Kingdom in ’99, sharing, passing them back and forth so everyone could join in the novel, exciting fun.  

EVERYONE LOOOOVES BOCCE!! at least until the movie begins. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Harr’s Drive In

Often you got multiple shows for the price of one.  On special evenings it would be a dramatic show of full-moon-rising, dark clouds and lighting rolling along the jagged horizon of South Mountain, too far away to hear the thunder, too far to rain on us, but close and bright enough against the deep purple evening sky to hear Harry say – ‘they’re taking pictures up in heaven this evening’. 

Hope you’re in the pictures, old friend, along with the others we know who are now gone from this plane of existence. Miss you all.