I Don't Think I'm in Kansas Anymore

Day One of the Travel Adventure part of my trip, and guess what I saw?

This is real; it is Highway 99, just off of I-70 west of Topeka.  We'll come back to it in a moment.  Let's start at the beginning, following my on-time departure from Omaha this morning.

Some people may not know that Arbor Day began in Nebraska, founded by J. Sterling Morton who lived in Nebraska City.  When you think about it, this is a logical holiday in a state where nearly any tree that you see was either planted by someone or is the direct descendent of a tree planted by someone.  That includes the Nebraska National Forest.  On the way south, I swung through to give my respects to Mr. Morton.

Today I learned that the area along Highway 75, north of Topeka, is apparently the entertainment capital of the midwest, featuring as it does the Thunderhill Speedway, the Air Combat Museum, and four or five casinos.  (The casinos are not exactly what you'd call high end, and they make Firekeepers in Michigan seem like the Bellagio.)  But I had lunch plans so didn't investigate any of these tempting offerings.

After a nice lunch with my Cousin Amy, I headed west on I-70 toward Junction City and Abilene.  (Kansans lay claim that this is the first bit of interstate built, in 1956. Missourians apparently make a similar claim about a part of I-70 through their state.  Out of deference to my Kansas Friend, Rebecca, I'll believe the sign I saw today on the interstate:  Kansas wins.)

Regardless, I-70 west of Topeka was where I started seeing billboards for the Oz Museum in Wamego.  This clearly was too good to pass up, so I got off on Highway 99 and immediately saw the "Road to Oz Highway" sign.  One of my Facebook friends (you know who you are, Susan) claimed confusion about whether this was a road or a highway, or a road to a highway, or what.  I think it's quite clear that the name of the highway is "Road to Oz."  And it is.  The Road to Oz, I mean, although it is not paved in gold.

You go about 9 miles north of the interstate to get to Wamego, which is a cute little town on the Kansas River that has, according to the billboard, 90 hotel rooms.  There is an Oz Winery, which technical difficulties prevent me from posting a picture of.  This will come as a surprise to many of you, but I did not go to the winery because I couldn't think of what I'd do with the wine.  Really!  I mean, the whole point was to buy the bottle for the adorable or funny or whatever Oz-themed label, and the thought of driving around for several months (or even a month until I go back to Omaha) with a wine bottle rolling around in my car - full or empty - seemed ridiculous to me.

But the museum itself is really cool.  30,000 people stop by every year, said Austin, the guy who was working there.  (Given that I am on my way to Austin, I think it is kismet, or something, that he had the same name.  Well played, Austin's parents, well played.)  The origin of the museum is that a collector of Wizard of Oz memorabilia - a ton of it, or probably more than one ton - is from Wamego and he is the source of the museum's collection.  There are posters, costumes, toys, scenery, dolls, coffee cups, record album covers and anything you can possibly think of that has been created with a Wizard of Oz theme.  Both outside and inside, there are handprints and footprints on the sidewalk/floor featuring a bunch of the actors who played Munchkins.  I could make out just a few names:  Steve Cox, John Fricke, Myrna Swenson, someone named Ruth and someone named Mickey, each of whom have poor handwriting so I don't know their last names, and on one section of floor someone had inscribed "Munchkin Love."  I am not some sort of crazed Wizard of Oz fan, and I thought it was well worth the time and $6 ($7 if you don't belong to AAA).  If you love the Wizard of Oz, it's a must-see.

After returning to Kansas from Oz, I continued west along I-70 to make a short pilgrimmage to Junction City.  On the way, I drove by Marshall Field (the airfield, not the store) at Fort Riley which was the first territorial capital of Kansas.  (Coincidentally, I stayed tonight in Guthrie, first territorial capital of Oklahoma.)  There's a bend in the road right before the Airfield, so you see it all at once which is kind of impressive.

My visit to Junction City included stopping at the cemetery where my maternal grandparents are buried, and trying to find the home where my mother was born and lived from when she was a toddler until she was about 10.  Thanks to directions from Mom and Cousin Amy, further directions from Cousin Amy, and help from a guy who was washing his car at the cemetery, I was able to find my grandparents' gravestones (along with that of my grandfather's parents).  And although I wouldn't swear which exact house it was, I did narrow it down to two or three houses that were where my mom said they'd be.

And then, to Abilene, to see the Eisenhower Presidential Center.  It includes a library, a museum, Eisenhower's boyhood home, and a chapel where he, Mamie, and their son who died as a toddler are buried.  Oh, and a gift shop, but you already had that one figured out.  I didn't make it to the library, but saw the rest, and it was definitely worth the swing-by. Eisenhower's mom died in 1946 (his father had died a few years earlier), and they opened his house to the public the next year.  In 1952, around the time that he started running for President (timing is a funny thing, isn't it?), he laid the cornerstone for the museum which was originally envisioned to be in honor of soldiers and veterans.  This building here is his house.  (I am battling with Blogger right now, so I can't crop the picture down.  Sorry about that!)

South of Abilene you get into the Santa Fe Trail.  In fact, Highway 15 is called Santa Fe Avenue when you get near Durham.  By then it was getting dark so I didn't take the time to figure out the historic markers, but the sunset was spectacular.  The sky was every shade of blue from robin's egg to blue-gray, striped with orange and pink, and the rolling prairie was golden tan accented with dark trees.  Simply gorgeous.

Tomorrow is Austin, although I will probably stop at the Oklahoma City Federal Building monument on the way.  Plus there's a town called El Reno just outside of OKC that promises fabulous little hamburgers.  (Thanks, Uncle Bill and Aunt Connie, for the Roadfood book!  I don't know whether it's true that an army travels on its stomach, but your niece certainly does.)

If you don't hear from me for a while, it's because I've gotten trapped in Robert Caro's The Passage of Power.  Caro is probably the best non-fiction writer I've ever read, and this is the fourth of his five books on Lyndon Johnson.  I just started it over the weekend, and you should all consider yourself highly valued that I did my blogging before picking up the book for the night.  It's 600 pages, and my self-created ADD makes me an inefficient reader, so this is going to take a while.