Monthly Archives: June 2023

While riding in the car the other day, Hunter broke the quiet with a question from left field.

“Mom, next time we go on a trip, can you not tell us about it until we go?” I looked at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Why, buddy?” I asked, as I realized the answer.

“Because it’s too hard to wait. I just can’t wait.”

I explained that there are lots of parents who only tell their kids the day before a trip, mainly to dodge the weeks and weeks of “How many more days?” But I take a different approach.

“I’ll tell you why I don’t wait until the last day, Hunter. I don’t want to rob you of a bite of your Joy Apple.” My friend Heather coined this term.

“When you take a trip, you get three glorious bites of the Joy Apple: anticipation is the first bite. The experience is the second bite, and the third bite -“

Arden got it. “The memories,” she smiled.

I’m in the sweet spot of bites one and three. I’m practically shaking with anticipation of this year’s trip, while remembering and savoring last summer’s.

Last summer, my mama-in-love had a milestone birthday and invited us to her hometown of Bloomfield, Iowa to celebrate, and show the kids what the Midwest is all about.

We were the happiest little crew of eight.

We packed in farm visits, the county fair, Amish country stores, a lake resort day, and learning about farm life in the early settlement days.

The kids even entered the Tractor Pull competition, with all the unconscious hubris city kids carry about their athleticism. They eagerly awaited their turns to push the pedals and drag a massive weight behind their tractors.

This doesn’t look so bad, thought they!

I looked over at the 200 pound eleven year olds approaching the tractors and said, “Children, you are about to be owned.”

These Iowan farm boys were wearing jeans that had seen actual work, boots distressed by real labor, and gigantic belt buckles worn entirely unironically. When my kids pulled their tractors, they made it about six feet, stunned from the difficulty. When the Iowa boys pulled the tractors, they rode so hard, with such ease, the judge yelled “That’s a FULL PULL!” meaning the tractor had crossed the finish line, a feat no city child had even come close to.

We laughed and laughed. Culture shock is healthy and refreshing and deeply funny.

It was like earlier that day when I assessed the menu at the county fair and, thinking I was wrestling something healthy from the offerings, ordered the taco salad.

“But what’s this all over it?” I asked Mike’s cousin, Jessie.

“Doritos,” she said. “You’re lucky you didn’t get the trashy version, when they serve the salad IN the Dorito bag.”

Henry was undeterred.

It didn’t help that the “taco seasoning” was served in an udder.

The magical part about the trip was how much of it was exactly like we’d hoped and described to the children. It really was like a postcard from the heartland.

This is their Uncle Richard’s land. We cruised around checking on the horses and hay balers. They were enchanted by the openness of the land.

Speaking of land, this is just a portion of Aunt Ro’s backyard.

The kids couldn’t believe this much open grass could belong to one family. They took off out the door and ran hollering down the hill.

They also dropped and rolled with glee until Aunt Ro yelled, “Kids! Don’t roll in the grass! The chiggers!”

The WHAT? Aunt Ro provided a quick lesson on the local insects and their tendency to bite. That was the end of the rolling with glee.

When Uncle Alan said, “Want to play golf?” he meant swing with all your might. Get out the driver! Because you actually have the space.

I will never forget walking into an Amish market and seeing the kids’ faces as two things occurred:

1. Nana announced the ice cream at this store is free. Excuse me? What did she just say?
   
2. An Amish couple walked out with their purchases, unhooked their horse, got into their buggy, and rode down the highway. The kids stared, struck dumb, like they’d fallen through a time travel portal and landed in the world of their beloved Laura, Mary and Carrie Ingalls. It was priceless.

Soaking in that Ingalls’ spirit, we visited the Nelson Pioneer Farm and Museum, which is a preserved homestead from the 1800s. So much of it felt familiar to them because of the Little House books we’ve read (even though it obviously wasn’t tied to the Ingalls family).

Authentic schoolhouse? Check. We’re practically a full class.

I believe it increased their appreciation for modern day playground equipment.

I loved seeing the kids bond with their relatives, especially Uncle Richard and Aunt Ro. Uncle Richard reached mythical status for being an actual farmer.

While visiting his farm one day, Nana jumped on the back of the truck like she must have as a kid and the kids couldn’t get enough. You can take the girl out of Iowa, but you can’t take Iowa out of that girl!

Henry idolized Uncle Richard, and this was cemented when Richard invited Henry around in his truck to do chores, up front. Before I could get all hysterical about back seats, seat belts and booster seats, Mike told me to chill and let the boy be a farmer.

Henry reported back that Uncle Richard had cloth seats. What and why and how, he wanted to know. These are the unexpected cultural gems you can’t anticipate. I got to explain about the extreme Midwest summers and winters and why leather is frozen solid or hot enough to scald your thighs. Not that Uncle Richard would ever in his life wear shorts, of course.

Since we’d come all the way to Iowa, we decided to loop in several days with our friends from Wisconsin. They have four boys similar ages to our kids, and we’d visited them last summer on a lark, and had a fabulous time.

But knowing there was a road trip from Iowa to Wisconsin, I did a little digging for somewhere interesting to stop. And boy did I hit paydirt.

As great luck would have it, I discovered that the baseball field from Field of Dreams lay exactly between our two destinations.

I have loved this movie since I was a little girl. I remember so clearly my astonishment that the ending of a movie had the power to make my dad cry. At the time I thought, my dad! He doesn’t cry! And it laid a profound weight over the film that’s remained ever since. I’ve seen it countless times, and it made me sentimental about baseball long before any actual games would.

The kids had no such emotional backstory. So before we left Seattle, Mike and I did our due diligence, sat the kids down and showed them the movie. We were all verklempt and excited and they were like, what is this? Is God talking to him in the corn? It was 400 questions. We didn’t care. They were sucked in and watched it two times before our trip. It helped that it scandalized them with the occasional minor league swear word.

As we entered Dyerson, Iowa, I actually became nervous. It felt like the anticipation of meeting a beloved celebrity — it’s going to elate you or crush you with disappointment.

When we were sure we were on the road of the famous line of headlights at the end of the movie, I suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of those guitar notes from the soundtrack. I gasped and looked over at Mike who had turned the song on over Bluetooth, and already had misty eyes under his sunglasses. We laughed at ourselves and drank in the nostalgia and teared up as the farm came into view.

It was perfect.

We walked up to the field, and realizing we could enter it, broke into a run. The kids started racing the bases while people played catch in the outfield. Henry slid into home and got a dirt burn, but we told him his scrape was worth the pain because it came from the Field of Dreams.

Pretty much immediately I made Jameson play Karen just before she chokes on the hot dog.

Claire and I couldn’t tear ourselves off the field. Also, we wore matching gingham.

It wasn’t long before the irresistible disappearing into the corn. Except kids just keep running and we had to holler to get them to return from heaven.

Incredibly, the MLB was hosting a game a month later at the Field of Dreams. Except instead of using the movie field, they built a much larger one behind the corn. You can see the lights from that field in the photo above. The actual movie baseball field is about the size of a little league field, which surprised us. We were excited to learn, however, that Kevin Costner would walk through the corn and into the big field, leading the Yankees and White Sox to play.

Back home, the kids would screech and exclaim throughout the game every time the camera panned over to the movie house and field. Or maybe I was screeching. It was hard to tell.

We toured the house, which is largely unchanged, and I found it hard to leave. Just standing in Ray and Annie’s kitchen, or standing on the porch, it was too much. I wished and wished my dad could be there next to me. So I called him, bursting. He also received dozens of photos and responded with all the enthusiasm I was feeling. Talking to him while standing on that field was the next best thing to being there together.

I nearly made this our Christmas card.

See the floodlight switch where Annie turns them on for Ray and his dad? Of course I opened it, and there’s nothing inside. Love the little leftover props.

They have a very modest hot dog stand on the third base line, which took care of lunch before we got back on the road. But not before the jealousy-inducer of the day: we all stared as little seven year olds in uniforms lined up to play ball. Mike and I couldn’t believe the local teams get to compete at such a legendary place. And to top it off, before the game, the soundtrack plays over the speakers, and the parents get sort of still, and everyone pauses to listen and gaze at this epic baseball field.

Many months later I would be sitting at my kitchen table reading the most recent Peggy Noonan piece and she would share a story from her nephew about the magic, the charm, the Americana of baseball. “See?” He’d asked her after a particularly emotional ballgame. “How can you not love baseball?”

Exactly.

Onward to the next kid dreamland! The combined nine kiddos ran wild with tubing, kayaking, fishing, hammocks, firepits, and exploring the woods and wetlands in this genius mobile:

Jameson is relaxed.

It was lovely and we were grateful.

This summer we’re off to the Carolinas, for two weeks of overnight camp for the twins, and two weeks of Charleston, Kiawah Island, (and a day trip to Savannah!) for the three younger kids and us.

I’ve packed eyelet for me, seersucker sundresses for Claire, and enough plaid, madras and polos for the boys to pass for little southern gents. Boat shoes included.

Wish us luck, y’all.