Back to the CrowMac Creek Chronicle

     “Where the hell have you been?”
     I couldn’t help but notice the vein standing out from Howard Ray’s forehead. He motioned for me to close the door and sit down.
     “Let’s see. I sent you out on Tuesday, the 12th. Am I incorrect?
     “Yeah Boss.”
     “And what were my instructions to you?”
     “You asked me to fly to Kansas City, then to Osawatomie, a Midwest town with a population of a little more than 4,000 in the dead of winter to find entertainment? Instead, I sent you something real, a story with a message.
     “Yes, and it was a good story! A really good story” Howard’s scowl morphed into a partial smile. “We printed it in the Sunday edition. But the next time you write something like that, send a couple of boxes of  tissue. There were more tears in this office than there’s been since the election. And the comparison between the Kansas tax debacle causing a lack of funding for the hospital and what is happening nationally was a nice touch. However, I dumped that as so much rubbish. You are not writing about politics here. Our readers are largely liberals, but the conservatives are the most vocal. You understand?” Get out of here and close the door!
     I stood quietly then left the office. I guess I was lucky to have kept my position after spending an additional day to shoot birds with Linda. As I closed the door and turned away, I was met by Marsha, Howard’s administrative assistant.
     “Howard wanted me to give you this. I’ve made the arrangements for you. And by the way, here is the form I need from you before you go. You have an expense account, and I’ve no doubt you ate, and purchased a tank of gas? Well, complete this form and you will be reimbursed. You also have a $100 daily allotment for per diem expenses for your next trip. You may pick up a check for that when you turn in your paperwork. Oh, and one more thing, Howard is sending you back to Kansas to report on Spring birding and the Wings and Wetlands Birding Festival in late April in Great Bend.  That’s right up your alley, isn’t it Steven?”

The Osawatomie Insane Asylum (Kansas State Hospital)

     I woke up this morning at the Comfort Inn, showered, shaved and made ready for my trip to Osawatomie. The drive didn’t seem too long, perhaps because I enjoy the trip south from Kansas City. There’s not much traffic, and I can think and prepare a bit before I reach my destination. There is, however, one frustration. It seems that one raptor (hawk) sits atop every three or four telephone poles, just hoping that I will stop, jump from the car, prepare my camera for a shot, and just prior to my fine focusing, the damned bird will fly off to another telephone pole and wait. He’ll do it three or four times, then I give up, and move on. He’d do it more, but I have limited patience. If raptors can smile, I’d bet he’d have a big one for me.
     The sign says three miles to the exit for Osawatomie so I’m close. Osawatomie is a small mid-western town with a main street and two or three cross streets. The population in 2016 was 4,308, just 89 less than 2015. I suspect that as kids grow up here, they migrate to larger metropolises like Ottawa, but, at the surface it looks pretty good to an older guy like me. Yet I like the mountains and CrowMac Creek.
     I found the location of the Battle of Osawatomie, the old church, and..., and.... a movie theater. The gas station is in the suburbs.
     It turned out that I needed to go back to the highway to find the hospital, so after ten minutes or so, I found the road that guides me in. Along the way, I find a cemetery. It’s a dank and dreary place, and the headstones are all alike. They all stand about 25 inches tall, are rounded at the top, and have only a number on them. They are pitted by wind and weather and have black mold in the pitted areas. I tried to count them, but kept being distracted by an intense feeling of a deep dark sadness. And I just couldn’t shake it.
     There they were; the remains of lost and broken lives. They didn’t have families. If they did, their families just left them there to rot. These family members didn’t even bury these patients, leaving that to the hospital..
     If these patients dreamed, their dreams drifted away in the Kansas wind. And this was what was left. One hundred tombstones identified only by a number. Fathers, daughters, aunts sons, mothers? Just forgotten. I took a few shots, and drove off. I didn’t take the time to photograph any buildings or anything else. I couldn’t take any more, and I drove back to the hotel.

P.S. The Osawatomie hospital has been a fairly good place for those who cannot afford a private hospital. In the last two years, the hospital lost its accreditation in some areas. There were many changes, and it is fully accredited now. I’ve no doubt that funding has been an issue, and that is the story I will give Howard at the CrowMac Creek Chronicle.

Preparing for Osawatomie

     Howard had his secretary arrange my airline reservations and I needed to travel to Sky Harbor in Phoenix to make a 2:00 PM flight. At least I had enough time to make my flight without driving like a mad man. At my desk, I looked for events, if any in Osawatomie, about which I could report.
     “Damn!!! Mid winter, Mid Week? And I need to report on something happening in a no-where place like Osawatomie, Kansas. I lowered my head onto my hands, rubbed my temples and released a loud sigh. As I glanced up, I noticed everyone in the room watching me. Taking a deep breath, I opened Firefox, typed Osawatomie in Google Search, and began my research.
     I found the official Osawatomie website, and looked for anything of interest. First I checked to see what was happening this week, and there was nothing but a Legislative breakfast, and that was last Saturday. Then I looked for events in March.
     “Hmmm. Nothing,” I thought. “Well, I’m not going to say anything, and I’ll go anyway. It will just serve the old fart right.”

   Then I focused on Osawatomie History, and found a couple of items that interested me. August 30, 1856: When John Brown’s son was shot, he heard that Ruffian (Pro Slavery) forces numbering between 250 and 400 had planned to loot and burn Osawatomie to the ground, then move on to Topeka and Lawrence to do the same. John Browns 40 men held out for a volley or two, then were forced back.
    “Maybe there will be John Brown Days in August and citizens will burn the town to the ground.
     “Thats’ not even funny, I mused.” Then something else caught my eye.
     The Osawatomie State Hospital: I remember Dwayne Joe telling me something about that. Yes, it had been on the cutting edge of psychiatry early in the 20th century. I read on: It had first been called the Kansas Insane Asylum when it opened in 1859. Then my mind drifted to visions of men and women for whom families could no longer provide care, people who would be warehoused for the remainder of their lives. They were simply abandoned, left to rot. I looked away from the computer screen and felt a little sick. I had hardly moved for some time when Isaiah Renkin walked over and placed his hand on my shoulder.
     “You okay?”
      My eyes moved slowly toward his. “Yeah, Isaiah. I was just thinking about something.”
     I looked at my watch and saw that it was after 4:00. I packed my things, and moved slowly to the front door. I had images of men, women, and children in my mind, wearing white hospital garb, just walking in circles, over and over. As I opened the door, the fresh mountain air revived me somewhat, but I couldn’t shake those images.
     I swung into my car, started the engine, headed up Hardscrabble Mesa Road, turned right at Edna’s Café, and then left onto Ute Trail. It felt good to be home. The cabin was cool and smelled of sweet Ponderosa Pine and last night’s Chili. Cheyenne trotted out of the bedroom with her tail swinging lightly. She pushed her head against my leg. “It’s good to see you too girl.”
     I pulled some ice from the fridge, poured myself a double bourbon, opened the front door, and found a chair on the porch. I began to relax and felt the peace I had missed for so long in Kansas.
     I knew I needed to pack and ready myself for my trip, but not right now. No, not right now.
                         
                                                          ....................To be continued.

My First Assignment

     Howard Ray, the owner of the CrowMac Creek Crier, called me into his office and told me to take a chair. Perplexed, I took a seat as he rattled through a stack of paperwork. As he did, I noticed that he towered over me. I felt as if someone had cut the legs off my chair, and realized that someone had. I scooted my chair closer to the desk and Howard scowled as if I had broken a cardinal rule. His gaze became more relaxed and I thought I saw the remnants of a smile that had all but dissolved.

    “What’s up boss?

    “First, I made a changed the name of the paper yesterday”

      A bit perplexed, I thought it best to stay silent. Howard had purchased the paper in 1999, and the last owner had begun publishing the CrowMac Creek Crier, an advertizing rag, in 1968. It had been a free publication, totally funded by advertising sales, and his wife’s father. And it  hadn’t grown much since then. Howard had told me that we would begin publishing online, which was one of the reasons I took the position. Well, that and I needed the cash.

     “So, what’s the new name?”

     “The CrowMac Creek Chronicle!” 

     Howard looked pleased, and I thought it sounded a bit more newspapish, even if the name was still a tongue twister.

     “Okay, Steven.” Howard looked at me as if he was measuring my level of excitement, a demeanor my genes had only sparingly provided me.

     “You will fly to Kansas, and travel to Osawatomie.”

     I jumped to my feet. “Osawatomie? What for? What is in Osawatomie? It’s the dead of a very cold winter, and, as far as I know, there are no festivals or entertainment.

     “Close the door, and sit down. First of all, You will do what I ask of you as long as you work here. If you don’t understand, read your contract.”

                                                                                                                      ...To be continued.

Sister Alyson Visits CrowMac Creek

     Last Thursday may sister, Alyson drove to from Prescott to CrowMac Creek for a visit, and it was like a breath of fresh alpine air. We hadn't talked since I told her that I wouldn't be able to make it to my father's funeral. I had been in Kansas, and my financial condition had gone to hell. Further, I was angry with myself for not being able to drive out to AZ to see him before he passed away. Anyway, we lost contact and didn't work to fix whatever had happened between us.

     A few days ago we made contact on Facebook and used Messenger to begin reuniting. I decided to move to CrowMac Creek the next day. 

     I was surprised when Alyson arrived. I hadn't seen her since my hip surgery when she flew to Kansas City to help me put my socks on. We had spent a day sightseeing and discussing life as we saw it.
     It was surprisingly relaxing to share time in the cabin where our family had spent many occasions enjoying being with each other. Our conversation was refreshing and enjoyable. I cooked a couple of burgers on the Weber, steamed some corn and Alyson found enough lettuce, carrots and tomatoes for a fresh salad. We had a nice evening and Laura enjoyed the visit because she didn't want to make dinner anyway. The sun was sinking into the mountains to the west as we all hugged and said our goodbyes. Then Alyson followed the sun toward Prescott.

     Laura and I both felt the warmth of family as we prepared for bed. Moving to CrowMac Creek was one of the best changes I had ever made, maybe the best ever. And I knew there would be more days like this.

A Dreamy Reality

      It had been a beautiful day at CrowMac Creek, peaceful and seventy-five degrees as Laura arrived at the cabin. Her 20 mile drive through the pines from Payson painted her with a peaceful demeanor.       
     She discussed her day, telling me that Pastor Sands had told her that I was the new Entertainment and Events writer for the CrowMac Creek Crier as he purchased gas for his Toyota.   
     I smiled and nodded. "I am also the newest photographer for the paper." It is good news. I finally will be where I want to be and do what I love. Tomorrow I begin my new life.

Somerset Ridge Vineyard & Winery

     Dwayne and I took one of our many driving tours, Sunday, January 28th and, as my friends know, I like to take off in any direction and end up where I end up. Dwayne doesn't so we headed south anyway, looking for landscape photography possibilities. In short, we ended up at the Somerset Vineyard and Winery.
     Now, I became a wine enthusiast after I graduated from Arizona State University and was transferred to Los Angeles. I became interested in wines while in Arizona and I made a trip or two to the Brookside Winery (now deceased) just south of Phoenix. In the 80s I began to explore Santa Barbara County for it's wines. I was a frequent visitor to the Firestone winery and Zaca Mesa, both presenting rich red wines. It was there I learned that great wines come from regions where there is sandy soil, and cool Fall seasons. The soil here in Kansas is composed of clay with a little dirt on top, and the temperatures are extreme: I thought not a good area for growing wine grapes.
     Driving South, we barely noticed a sign instructing us to take the next exit to Somerset Winery. As we headed toward the winery, I noticed vines looking out of place with the snow that had fallen around them. In the past, I would have dismissed this winery as a factory where Ripple might have been produced, but the reality is that Somerset Ridge Winery has selected the grapes that grow successfully in this state of extremes.
     Somewhat dubious about wines grown here in Kansas, I didn't expect much, but Somerset Ridge exceeded my expectations. They have 12 varieties of grapes and 8,000 vines, and I found that wine enthusiasts will certainly find wines they enjoy.
     The winery is located in an agricultural area outside of Kansas City Metro. The grounds are attractive and the tasting building is easily accessible from the parking lot. We bellied up to the wine tasting bar and our guide began the tasting by asking us what kinds of wines we enjoy. Both Dwayne and I enjoy dry wines, so we were presented several wines to taste. The first wine presented was their Chardonel, a wine similar to Chardonnay. Chardonel has a crisp finish of pears and green apples and Somerset suggests it be served with salads and fish.
     My favorite wine is their Norton. Somerset Ridge describes this wine as "a classic Norton dry red wine- with a wild fruit aroma (I think it has the aroma of strawberries.) and a firm acidity. It is fermented in small lots and aged in American oak barrels." Another favorite is their Citron, a desert wine consisting of one of their white wines with lemon. This after dinner drink is truly a desert wine reminding me of late harvest Gewurztraminer.
     Somerset has an attractive, indoor tasting area, as well side dishes consisting of crackers, cheese and fruits. They have tables where visitors can sip wines, while enjoying friendly conversations with friends. Somerset Ridge is open Wednesdays through Saturdays from 11:00 AM to 5:00 PM during the winter. When the weather becomes nice, there are more areas where visitors can sit and enjoy their wine and snacks. The winery has entertainment as well. If you are in the area off Highway 169, south of Kansas City, this is a place to visit. See more at: https://somersetridge.com/