Tuesday sister Weed and I are heading for Indiana. Not that we are big Indiana fans but the beloved aunt and uncle live there and we are making our annual trip. Both of us were born there but left mid-century to grow up in the Los Angeles area, thanks mom and dad good decision.
We'd planned this trip early in the year and now it's here I'm starting to get excited. We did have some bad news on Wednesday. Our beloved uncle passed away. Shocking, yes, in a way but he'd been in a state of fragile health for a while so not unexpected but it is always shocking. This doesn't change the trip because we will be with our aunt and it will be sad to miss Uncle Dave. Fine man he was and a snappy dresser even in his later years; he will be missed by family and friends.
Beloved aunt wanted to see the dogwoods in bloom in southern Indiana which is where her family originally lived. Our mother was born in Pee Wee Valley, Kentucky but that is another post. We located the family cemetery last year and promised to bring her back in the spring. It's not as morbid as it sounds, there is just so much family history in the cemetery it compels you to return and learn more. I'm not sure she has the same desire now that her love of fifty plus years is gone but we'll see. I'd be glad to honor any of her wishes.
Daughter calls our home state, Klan-diana and after our mother's funeral refused to ever cross the border again. It is more white-bread than I'd ever care for and without the beloved Aunt I'm sure we'd never make the trek either. They seem to be holding on to Plessy v. Ferguson with fervor.
Geographically it's not an ugly state, if you like farmland, but there is an undercurrent of something about to happen. Last year we toured a good deal of the state by car and noticed so many small towns boarded up. Sad, but with family farms being a thing of the past and no jobs, what are young people supposed to do; leaving is the only answer. Not unlike many other areas they need some industry or maybe if they found oil. Now there's a scary thought, Rumsfeld steaming into Terre Haute.
So Weed and I will head back to our Indiana home, though neither of us claim it, and I'm sure we'll have a good visit with darling aunt but then we take are fun with us.
If you feel like singing,
Back home again in Indiana,
And it seems that I can see
The gleaming candlelight, still burning bright,
Through the sycamores for me.
The new-mown hay sends all its fragrance
Through the fields I used to roam.
When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash,
How I long for my Indiana home.