Nevada, IA to Luverne, MN: 331.7 miles
Still mostly on Ohio time, I was up too early. Lynne had left a book of photos including several of our grandparents which I had never seen - or just didn't remember. Between looking at those and poking around online, the time was not wasted.
We talked a bit more over breakfast; it was great to see Lynne and Dan and they were most gracious to have me over when I know they are really busy. It was also time to hit the road again.
The morning temperatures were really nice in the 70's and mostly cloudy. It would have been a nice day to poke along on 2-land roads, but the interstate made more sense. I headed north toward Minnesota. Traffic was negligible and with the wind at my back my mileage was fantastic.
My first stop was at my Dad's cousin's house. I had never met her before, but Sylvia is also somewhat of the family historian. I found the house easily enough, but I had neglected to call when leaving in the morning - so much for making a good first impression.
Sylvia and Larry where really fun people. We talked about all the myriad of family members as well as the idiosyncrasies that are who we are. It was interesting how some of the mannerisms crossed generational boundaries. We probably could have talked for longer than the two hours I was there, but it was time to move on to head west to where my Dad's family originated in the US.
Heading west on I-90, I stopped at the rest area near Blue Earth. This was located near where the east and west crews building the interstate met, completing the longest interstate in the country.
Once near SW Minnesota, I got off the interstate and worked my way toward the first farm. This was the farm my Great-Grandparents rented lived on between 1904-1909. The last mile was on a scary loose gravel road which wasn't so great on a fairly heavy bike.
The farm bears little resemblance of what it looked like back then with many large barns and I think even some hog barns. But I could imagine my Great-Grandparents mix of nervousness and excitement at starting completely over in a foreign country.
As I was entering in the GPS coordinate for the farm they bought, a man in a side-by-side stopped by to ask if I needed help. The friendliness of the Midwest did not disappoint.
The drive to the farm took me through the town that used to have the railroad. The railroad is gone, but I can recall the description of my Great-Grandmother's reaction to seeing Minnesota in April. Cold, wet and no leaves.
Once again the road to the farm was a loose gravel road, this time with a fairly significant hill. Thankfully the Trophy handled it well.
I spent a bit of time looking around and taking some pictures before I saw someone on the 5-Acre property that my Dad's cousin had sold off. I stopped to ask him just to be sure I was at the right farm. He was a bit of a talker, with a West Virginian drawl that was hard to understand. He was very friendly, almost too friendly - offering me some stuff he had dug up on the property that he thought may have been my ancestors. Most of it was junk. But he did also show me some concrete impressions which I bet were from my second cousins.
The farm land itself was quite pretty. Rolling hills with a creek at the north end. Previously it was used for cattle and hogs, but now it was mostly row crops. Compared to the first rental farm, I could imagine how it must have felt, especially for my Great-Grandfather, to have succeeded in becoming a landowner in just a few years after making the leap to North America. I didn't expect lightning bolts to shoot out of the ground when I walked on the farm - and they didn't - but being there did make the history more real.
When I had seen the wind turbines on Google Earth before starting the trip, I originally thought it was almost vulgar. But after being there in person, I changed my mind. Not only are windmills somewhat iconic Dutch (granted not electric generating turbines but...), but my Great-Grandparents were doing everything they could to make it work - always trying to end the year with more money than they started, so the wind turbines are in a real way just an continuation of that. And I was glad the my Dad's cousin was deeding the property to his sons so it will stay in the family for at least another generation.
However, standing under the wind turbine was a little intimidating.
I left the farm with a final stop for the afternoon to see the graves of my Great-Grandparents. I'm not really a stop by the grave kind of person, but it seemed like the right way to end the afternoon. I found the cemetery easily enough, but it was much bigger than I expected. I started wandering around looking for the headstone when I saw the groundskeeper mowing. I started to talk to him before being interrupted by a woman also looking for a few particular graves. She had a legendary level of talkedness. The groundskeeper pointed to where the map showing the grave location was and as I left to head that way I found my last name.
Then things got somewhere between eerie and weird. There was a raven right by the headstone - probably dying, but who knows. One can draw all kind of inferences with this kind of thing. It never moved the whole time I was there. I left it be, but I'm still pondering the significance (or not) of this.
I drove down to Luverne for the night, getting a hotel with a very similar name to the farm. After checking in, I called Vern - another of my Dad's cousins. He stopped by and offered to take me to the farm, but when I told him I had already been there, we headed to dinner instead. He and his wife Ruth were lots of fun to talk to. He had lived most of his life outside of the military in the area. They have children who are nearly my age as well. After dinner, he took me to another farm that was, and still is, in the extended family. By this point I was nursing a headache and headed back to the hotel for the night.
It was quite a memorable day. Meeting my Dad's cousins and hearing a lot about relatives and ancestors. I learned a lot - and have a lot to think about that debt I owe to my ancestors.
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