And There Were Giants in the Earth

In THIS POST from back in 2014, I chronicle a family heritage trip that our family took, venturing to South Dakota, where my maternal grandfather was raised.  We visited relatives there, toured the old family farm and spent time in a museum looking at artifacts from early settlers to the area.  My mom's maiden name is Sneve.  It is a Norwegian name.  Many people from Norway settled in the Dakotas.

My coffee mug below was given to me by my great uncle and aunt who live in South Dakota and depicts a beautiful scene painted by artist Terry Redlin, of a South Dakota farm complete with pheasants in flight.   Sometimes people look at a nice, pastoral farmstead and don't fully appreciate the work involved in farming.  There's a lot more than you think that went into making the scene you see below.  More on that in a minute.

"Country Road" by South Dakota artist Terry Redlin

After returning from our trip to South Dakota, my uncle gave me a book to read.  It is called Giants in the Earth, by O. E. Rolvaag.  I read the book and it really made an impact on me.  The book is set in the 1870's and it tells the story of the early Norwegian settlers to South Dakota and the hard work, disappointments, and trials they experienced as they tried to build a life and raise families in a land that was harsh, unforgiving and seemingly uninhabitable.

South Dakota winter @ the Old Farm

As my uncle warned me, this book is not a feel-good, happy story.  If you are looking for an inspirational book that leaves you uplifted and joyful, well, this is not your book.  I don't want to spoil the book for you, but the words, "and they all lived happily ever after" are not found in this book's final chapter.  It deals with rugged determination, persistence, and a work ethic which is all but extinct by today's standards. I want to tell you a little bit about it, for despite it's tough story, it does show the "Giants" in the earth that came before us and paved the way for where we are today.

Image Credit

The protagonist of the story was Per Hansa, a man who loved the land and because of that, I feel a kinship with him.  He had a firm belief that anything was possible with enough hard work.  Per Hansa loved his wife Beret and their children with a deep love.  This emotional narrative about the pioneers' attempt to tame the land is a well-written story.  The author successfully communicates their hopes, dreams and fears in a way that becomes very real to you.  You can feel Per Hansa's struggle, you find yourself rooting for him as you might with an underdog in a big game - you can empathize with with him after he suffers defeat after defeat after defeat. What made men like him tick?

Their toil and sacrifice, along with other pioneers, won the west, tamed the prairie and made America the nation it is today, but it came with a huge cost in human life, work, and disaster.  They were a very hardy people and worked hard to pass along a better land to their children.  Immediate gratification seemed to be a foreign principle as they remained focused on toiling to yield a better life that not they, but their children and grandchildren would be the beneficiaries of.

My Mom in front of  The Old Sneve Barn

I mentioned earlier that Per Hansa had a deep love of the land and other than being a story about pioneers, this is an agrarian story and agriculture is described in terms that true agrarians can identify with in the following excerpt about Per Hansa's preparing and sowing his first wheat crop on the virgin South Dakota soil:

"His wonder grew as he gazed at the kernels; there they lay, so inanimate, yet so plump and heavy, glowing with smoldering flame,  It was as if each kernel had light within it - life now asleep.  He thrust his hand into the sack and took out a handful of grain; it weighed like lead.  As his grasp tightened, the kernels seemed to soften under the warmth of his hand, they squirmed and twisted, slipping against one another, they seemed to be charged with a delicate life that was seeking release.  But when he opened his hand and stirred a finger among the grain, the kernels lay there as lifelessly as before - inert, yellowish, pale, yet burning faintly with inner, golden light... Reverently he lifted handful after handful from the table and emptied it into the sack."

A true agrarian, Per Hansa looked at seeds in a way that most people would think borders on insanity! He saw the life, the hope, the future that lay inside those seeds. As springtime neared, he became anxious to plant his seeds in the fertile land.  You can sense his restlessness to get out there and sow his seed - watching the weather, counting the days.

"As the mild spring weather set in, a feverish restlessness seized him, the work on the seed was done and he could not stay indoors....  The chickens were laying finely now, he was finding as many as five eggs a day. They'd better begin setting the hens pretty soon; when fall came, they would have at least fifty fowl on the place?... Next minute he was over on the prairie, talking to and caressing the oxen, and feeling of their necks where the yoke would lie... Now if the ground would only dry up! Per Hansa looked at it the first thing in the morning and felt  of it every night before he went to bed.  Today it had made fine progress.  Good Good - if the sun would only shine as warm tomorrow!... He dashed off to the neighbors, to see how the ground was coming on there.  No, it was wetter than at his place, where the land lay higher.... I'll bet my land is going to be the first to dry up? he told himself."

His wife saw his spirits lift after the long, gloomy winter and she, and the whole family, fed off the energy that was within him.

"Beret hadn't seen him in such good spirits since last spring.  He walked so lightly; everything that had life he touched with a gentle hand, but talk to it he must, his voice sounded low, yet it thrilled with a vibrant energy."

And finally it was time to plant.  The time he had waited on for so long!

"Again Per Hansa thrust his hand into the bag and his fingers closed on the grain.  He felt profoundly that the greatest moment of this life had come.  Now he was about to sow wheat on his own ground!  His hand tightened in the bag; he was on the point of lifting it out when something queer happened - the kernels were running out between his fingers!  He gave another grab, closing his hand still tighter; again the yellow kernels slipped through his fingers like squirming eels.  Then Per Hansa threw back his head and laughed.  These fellows aren't very anxious to go into the ground after riches for me!  He ran his hand around in the bag, stroking the grain caressingly, taking great handfuls and giving them a gentle squeeze."

As he began sowing the wheat, he was very serious about his work, wanting to give the seeds the best possible chance for growth, wanting everything to be perfect in order to maximize the yield.

"And now the wheat rained down in yellow semicircles from Per Hansa's hand; as the seed fell, the warm rays of the sun struck full across it, and seemed to wrap it in golden light.  Per Hansa restrained himself, working slowly and carefully - the seeding must be even and not too thick."

Although many would consider this to be hard, manual labor - not Per Hansa.  This was labor, for sure, but it was a labor of love.  In fact, the tiredness that he felt at the end of the day was a good feeling - an honest day's labor.  That's what I tell my kids: Find a job you love to do and you'll never work a day in your life.

"As long as the daylight lasted, Per Hansa kept on seeding. After supper he sat at the table without moving, he didn't want to get up; a pleasant feeling of languorous exhaustion had settled on him, the reaction from his excitement.  The next day Per Hansa worked like one possessed; he made fine progress.  Per Hansa walked home that night in great satisfaction."

I can identify with Per Hansa's love of the land and I greatly admire his work ethic and love of his family.  Something about that last sentence, as simple as it is, strikes me, "Per Hansa walked home that night in great satisfaction."  Per Hansa was able to take great satisfaction from doing the job that he loved and that makes me happy.

Giants in the Earth was a really good book.  It was a book about survival, hard-work, determination, and told the story of some really strong people who began a task that they knew would not completed within their lifetimes, but of whose toil was a work of love - Love for the land and love for their family.  Their work not only built a nation, but built great character in the generations that followed.

2014 Family Heritage (The Migration Back South)

Here are a few closing thoughts regarding our pilgrimage from South Louisiana to South Dakota that our extended family of 17 took to trace our family's footprints back to the family farm outside Volga, South Dakota.  You may have seen the previous posts on the adventures, but if not, you can click on the following:

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

The Sneve Family Farm

The trip back was a blur.  We talked on the way home about all the things we learned, the wonderful relatives that went out of their way to welcome us, feed us, show us around, and answer all of our questions.  Here is a little review in a format I call By The Numbers:

1:  The number of times we got pulled over by the Highway Patrol.  It wouldn't be a family vacation without flashing lights in the rear view mirror, now would it? Fortunately, the officer only issued me a warning ticket and it was for a busted tail light on the rental van.  We didn't bust it.  It was given to us in that condition.

2: The number of times we pulled over on the side of the road when restrooms weren't conveniently located.

4: The number of rocks from the 'Rock Box' at Crazy Horse Mountain that we took home.

7:  The number of boys chasing (and almost catching) a rabbit in the parking lot of The Millstone Family Restaurant in Rapid City, SD before a woman came outside the restaurant and yelled, "You boys leave that poor rabbit alone!"

34: The number of license plates from the US and provinces of Canada found by the losing vehicle in the license plate game.

38: The number of license plates from the US and provinces of Canada found by the winning vehicle in the license plate game. 

3,100: The number of miles we put on the Acadia (the chase vehicle) that also served as a time out vehicle and quarantine vehicle when travelers got sick.

3,391.2: The number of miles we put on the white van

Innumerable: The number of restrooms in truck stops, gas stations, welcome centers, restaurants and hotels that we stopped in.  I feel like we could write reviews on the best and the worst.  One stands out for its cleverness: The Valley Restaurant in Volga, South Dakota had a sign in the restroom over the urinal that said: "My aim is to keep this bathroom clean.  YOUR aim would help!"  

One night while in Brookings, South Dakota, we went out to see a couple of movies. Those older than 13 saw "Unbroken" and those younger than 13 saw "Night at the Museum 2."  Both movies were good and very fitting for the trip.  Unbroken was about a story of survival in a very harsh environment, and Night at the Museum 2 was about history coming alive.  I think both of those themes dove-tailed nicely with our family heritage trip.

We wanted to all pose in front of the van when we returned home, but we arrived in the middle of a torrential downpour, so we were only able to get the nose of the van and some tired travelers in the photo.  Upon turning off the engines, I am happy to report that all 17 of us are still on speaking terms. Seriously.  We grew closer as a family on the trip despite close proximity to one another. In fact, somewhere between Paris, Texas and Shreveport, Louisiana, delirium set in from a 12 hour drive and we all were singing Alan Jackson's "Remember When" and Jason Aldean's, "Amarillo Sky," and Carrie Underwood's, "Something in the Water" to the top of our lungs in addition to a new favorite by Rhett Akins called "Duck Blind."  It was something to hear, I tell you.

Home, Home in the RAIN!

This evening I was thinking about my grandfather (Poppy).  All he knew was life on the farm and going to a one room school house.  He went to college and was in ROTC and soon his life would be changed forever.  He'd be shipped down to Camp Claiborne, Louisiana for military training, meet the lady that he'd marry (my grandmother, Bumby), be shipped off to fight in the European theater of operations in Belgium (The Battle of the Bulge), and later return home and raise his family in Louisiana.

Through a lot of chaos, uncertainly, danger and change, he never abandoned the principles that guided his life: an unwavering trust in the Almighty, a love for family, compassion for people, a heart for service and good citizenship.  After seeing where he grew up, I can see clearly where those attributes were forged.  Here's a very small example:  Growing up back in the early 70's when I'd eat at Bumby & Poppy's house (my grandmother and grandfather), Poppy would always take us kids into the pink tiled bathroom to wash our hands before going to the table to eat. That bathroom had a ceramic heater built in to the wall.  If I close my eyes I can still smell the scent of the match burning mixed with the smell of natural gas burning when it would be lit.  

Anyway, Poppy would wash all of our hands in a curious way - for me at least.  He would pull the stopper and fill the sink about halfway with warm water.  Then he'd stand behind us and wash all of our hands with soap in the water in the sink and dry our hands.  I had always just run the water while I washed my hands.  Not Poppy.  He was a conservationist.  He was "green" before it was cool to be "green."  

He didn't learn that from a public service announcement.  I think that mindset was something forged outside of Volga, South Dakota on the farm.  You see the only running water they had was if they went running to get it.  Translation: You had to go to a well or pump it.  I think that stuck with him. He knew scarcity.  He knew how precious resources are and what an obscenity it is to waste them and wanted to pass along that virtue (among many others) to us.  He was a mountain of a man who left a strong, enduring legacy and if I only aspire to do a fraction of what he did, I would be successful.

Welcome Home!

It was very quiet when we returned home with just the five of us.  We hooked the camera up to the TV and viewed all the pictures and relived each day's events.  It was truly a memorable experience and one we won't forget.  Thanks to Mom & Dad for making this happen!  Thanks to all of our fellow family members for joining in on all the fun.  Thanks to all of our relatives from the North for your hospitality!  

2014 Family Journey - A Return To Where it All Began

Prior to making it to our final destination - Brookings and Volga, South Dakota, where the old family farm and home site was, we traveled back up into the Black Hills and visited Deadwood, an old west gold-mining town.  We would always stay at the old Franklin Hotel and while there we'd see the Old No. 10 Saloon, where Wild Bill Hickok was killed while playing poker.  We would always hike up to the cemetery atop Mt. Moriah to see his grave site, along with that of Calamity Jane and Potato Creek Johnny.

This time the area leading to the cemetery was closed for the season, so we didn't get to go, but we visited Adams Museum and saw the largest gold nugget found in the area by Potato Creek Johnny. The picture below shows my wife attempting to put a quarter in a parking meter.  Snow is almost to the top of it.  In fact, around town, there are red flags that are about six feet tall marking every fire hydrant so they won't be lost in the snow. Deadwood burned to the ground one night due to a bakery fire.

Lots of snow

With temps well below zero, our crew was thrilled to learn that the hotel we were staying in in Mitchell, South Dakota had a two story water slide in it.  Needless to say, they had a blast.  In fact, I heard it said that, "This is the best hotel in the world!"

Below zero outside - warm and toasty in the pool

The next morning we awoke and drove to Volga, South Dakota.  Volga has a museum that memorialized the ancestors that built the county.  We found pictures of my great uncle and names of other relatives, along with artifacts that were prevalent in times giving us a glimpse into the tools, dress, and customs of our ancestors.  Very interesting!

I really liked the verbiage found on a plaque on the wall just inside the museum.

Courage, Hard Work, and Citizenship - Great Attributes that need to come back in fashion

Behind the museum was a barn full of antique farm implements, including an old Farmall tractor.  Let me just say that the metal seat looked like it was very uncomfortable going over rough ground!

This was the old Sundet home (also one of our relatives).  Very small and very cold inside on this day.  We all remarked how hard it must have been to make it through a winter in this home.

Here was the old Medary Township one room schoolhouse where my grandfather went to school. First graders through Eighth Graders were all taught in this school. My grandfather told me that schoolchildren in South Dakota were asked to each bring a nickel to help pay for Mt. Rushmore.  He felt a sense of pride in personally helping with that project.

Mom & Dad outside the One-room school house

This school house was moved to the museum site, but was formerly in the country, near the family farm.

Inside, near the front of the class, was a cast iron stove.  The teacher would arrive early and get it lit to warm up the interior of the school.

On a list of attendees of the school that was on the wall, we spotted the name, "Orlando Sneve," my grandfather!  In thinking of Poppy, my grandfather, he'd often tell me, my brother and my sister that we were "the best kids in the world."  Now obviously we didn't remotely even come close to living up to being nominated for that award, but it made me think.  Perhaps his early life on the farm in harsh conditions, necessitated that he think positive thoughts.  He was always a "glass half full" type of guy, thinking the best of people even when we didn't deserve it.  

My mom's great grandparents immigrated to the United States from Norway and settled outside of Volga, South Dakota.  Settlers were given a 160 acre parcel of land to homestead with a few stipulations - they had to pay taxes on the land, they had to plant crops on the land and they had to live on the land at least six months of the year.  It was hard, the weather was brutal and living conditions were less than primitive. 30% of the settlers didn't make it and headed back east.  

Those who stayed worked incredibly hard and tamed the prairie, built churches and communities and families by sheer determination and hard work.  We journeyed 6 miles out of town to the old home place.  The original barn built in the 1800's and some of the outbuildings were still standing. Amazing!  Anything wooden rots so fast back in Louisiana.  The photo below shows what the home place looked like when the old home was still there.  A couple that purchased the farm spent the entire afternoon visiting with us and showing us around and telling us stories.

The Sneve Homestead

My grandfather would always tell me that he would have to tie a rope from the house to the barn so that in blizzards, they could find their way to the barn to take care of the animals.  Seeing it with my own eyes brought that story to life.  My mom told me that in the 1800's her great-grandfather was harvesting corn on their 160 acre farmstead and looked up and there was a Native American standing behind him.  He let him know that he wanted the sack of corn, so he gave it to the Indian. Later the same Indian returned with a sackful of geese that he had killed to return the favor.

Below is the old barn.  The large door in the top would open and they would stock the entire hay loft with loose hay.  You really had to prepare for the winters - long winters.  When I asked when Spring arrived up here, they laughed and said May or June.  Wow!  The barn was huge.  One side was where they would milk the cows and the other side was for horses.  I'll say it again: I'm amazed that this barn is still standing from the 1800's!

The Old Sneve Barn

Here is a silo and corn crib.  There was also a chicken house.  We were told that behind the silo is where my Uncle Vance kept his pet bear named Teddy.  Teddy was treated like a member of the family until he tore up all the clothes on the clothesline and my mom's grandmother made the determination that "the bear had to go."

Mr. Jensen, the current owner of the farm, had some Black Angus cattle in the stall below behind the barn.  They had thick coats and looked perfectly happy despite the fact that the wind chill outside was minus 25 below.  We saw lots of pheasants along the road and the snow was absolutely covered in rabbit and dear tracks.

As the sun set over the homestead, we all realized how bleak conditions must have been in settling this lonely country, how much work was involved in merely surviving, and how strong people had to be - how close knit families had to be to live from one day to the next.

Setting sun ushers in a frigid night and howling winds

We traveled a hop, skip, and a jump away from the farm to the Lake Campbell Lutheran Church that was built by settlers in the 1800's.  Our ancestors attended this church and considered it a very important part of the fabric of their lives. Family, Church, Neighbors, and Community were all very important.  Their very survival depended upon these institutions.  People had large families because you needed the labor required to work the land.  Due to disease there was a high mortality rate.  The church was located not far away from Lake Campbell - a lake that I would hear my grandfather talk about driving out on the lake and cutting a hole in the ice and going ice fishing on.

The beautiful Lake Campbell Lutheran Church

We walked through the graveyard that is on church property and found many headstones with the family name, Sneve, on them with first names like Mette, and Svend.

Where family members lie buried

The view below shows the graveyard and church all in one photo.  Does it look cold? It was really cold.

Today was my son, Russ', twentieth birthday.  I was thinking that it was fitting that on a day that we visited the old family farm where it all began and saw where our ancestors lay buried, we celebrated Russ' birthday.  It is up to the future generation to continue with the same work ethic, determination, and vision to survive and carry the family on into the future, but it is also up to the current generation to tell the stories of their family history.

"You are our living link to the past. Tell your grandchildren the story of the struggles waged, at home and abroad. Of sacrifices made for freedom's sake. And tell them your own story as well — because [everybody] has a story to tell." George H. W. Bush, State of the Union Address, 1990

I feel like our family heritage pilgrimage to the very ground that our ancestors called home was integral to telling that story.  I got, and I know our kids got, a better idea of who we are, and a real sense of the strong stock that was within the family members who settled the land.  The entirety of the trip and all we saw and learned inspired me and made feel feel more than a little guilty for sometimes wanting to give up when times get hard.  We really don't know hard times.  We discovered a lot on this trip.  I must admit, however, I still haven't discovered a taste for Lutefisk!

2014 Family Heritage Vacation - Because Getting There's Half the Fun

Following up from Yesterday's Post, we made great time, flying across the Mid-western prairie.  If I had a dollar for every round bale of hay we saw stacked up in fields, I'd be a very wealthy guy. Immense fields of harvested corn with center pivot irrigation systems lay barren and dormant until next Spring.  We passed beautiful old farmhouses with picturesque barns with the northern side of the property lines planted with evergreen trees serving as a windbreak from the harsh northern winds that batter the occupants of the farmhouses.  Mom told us stories about how these folks have storm cellars and preserve food and store it away.  Strong people. Survivors.  Out on the prairie it is a long way away from Wal Mart.  One must be rugged and self sufficient to live like this.

As we trekked further north, it got colder and colder.  We crossed bridges over rivers that were packed with ice and traveled through quaint little agricultural communities.  We had fun in the van, laughing and pointing out things we saw like deer and pheasant and more license plates to scratch off the list of our license plate game.

Happy Travelers

The road warriors forged ahead and vowed not to rest until we made it to South Dakota.  It wasn't long after dark before we crossed over a frozen Missouri River and into South Dakota.  We made it to our destination state, but the adventure was just beginning.

In the morning we woke up and journeyed to Mitchell, SD, home of the Corn Palace.  The Corn Palace is a community arena that has a mural on it completely made of corn.  A new decoration is put up every year.  It was first done in 1892 to encourage settlers to come to South Dakota and farm the rich soil.  South Dakota is an interesting state, still very true to its agricultural heritage.  There are some tough folk in this state.  People who tamed the prairie and still stand strong against harsh winters and weather conditions that aren't for the faint of heart.

The Nine Young 'Uns with Cornelius, the Corn Palace Mascot

Like the Griswalds in "Family Vacation" pulling up to a closed Wally World, we sort of groaned to see the building boarded up with signs saying - Closed for the Season, but then the kids picked up snow and had a good snowball fight.

The Mitchell Corn Palace

We stopped at a lunch spot on the Missouri River called Al's Oasis and had lunch. Most of the crew had real Buffalo Burgers and others had Indian tacos with buffalo meat.  Afterward, the boys talked the waitress into giving them some bread to go feed the hundreds of Canada Geese that were out on a pond in back of the restaurant.  They had a lot of fun feeding those big honking birds.

Canada Geese

We pressed on to Wall Drug Store.  Wall Drug is a neat drug store in a small town that is of international acclaim.  Billboards for miles and miles and miles tell you of its existence and proves that marketing works.  In fact, the Drug Store/Mall/Souvenir emporium was made famous many years ago by offering free ice water for those hot and thirsty tourists en route to the newly opened Mount Rushmore.

Free ice water anyone?

Being that it was cold we opted instead for a cup of coffee for a nickel.  We also had an apple scone and some freshly made cake donuts.  The boys bought themselves knives and other stuff with their souvenir money.

Coffee for a Nickel

We were admiring icicles hanging on the eaves that were literally two feet long. Benjamin stood up on top of a planter and broke one off.

It looked like a tomahawk.

We drove from there on into Rapid City where the snow began falling in big, fluffy snowflakes, much to the kids' delight.

They found a shopping cart behind a restaurant and began pushing one another down an embankment.

Mom and Dad enjoyed the snowfall as well.  It was five degrees with much colder weather on the way...

The boys found the hot tub and were relaxing and enjoying themselves in the hot water...

When my brother and his wife drove up after flying in to Rapid City and renting a car, they hopped out of the hot tub and ran across the parking lot all barefooted and one with no shirt on to greet them.

Isn't that a cool thing?  Family members will run barefooted and bare-chested across a snow covered parking lot in five degree weather just to tell you hello.

2014 Family Heritage Trip

The family.  We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together. ~ Erma Bombeck

2014 Family Heritage Trip or Our Excellent AdVANture.
My Mom's side of the family is Norwegian.  Her Dad's ancestors immigrated from Norway and settled in South Dakota.  They lived on a farm.  Life was hard.  The weather was harder.  We wanted to learn more about the history and life of our ancestors that is so different from our own.  The family name is Sneve (rhymes with gravy).  My grandfather, just prior to WWII, was sent from his home in South Dakota to Camp Claiborne, Louisiana for training in the US Army. My grandmother met him at a USO dance, they married and the rest is history.  History is interesting and by studying it, we learn from it.

My Mom figured it would be a good idea for our family to embark upon a pilgrimage back to South Dakota, to the old family farm and home place, to learn about our family heritage and perhaps to learn a bit about ourselves in the process. Mom & Dad rented a 15 passenger van for the journey and also have a chase vehicle that would serve as a 'time out' vehicle, if needed. In addition to Tricia and me and our three kids,  the pilgrims included my sister and her husband and their six boys, ranging in ages from 5 to 15,  My brother and his wife, and my Mom & Dad.  That makes 17 of us.  Lots of people and suitcases...

The Van

We prayed for traveling mercies prior to embarking on our journey and then hit the road, planning to make it somewhere in Oklahoma by nightfall.

May the road rise up to meet you, May the wind be always at your back...

Bathroom breaks are hard logistically when travelling with a large group as sometimes restrooms aren't built to accommodate you and this results in long lines, but this minor inconvenience was dealt with in a patient and in orderly fashion. 

I've got to go!

We reinstated an old family tradition that my grandmother (Bumby) used to do for us when we were kids on family vacation to keep us from becoming too impatient on the drive.  At various intervals, Bumby would have bags for us to open with trivia, games, snacks and other things to keep us occupied.  We called them 'Bumby-bags' and at each new State we entered, we learned about the state flower, state insect, amphibian, tree, we sang the state song and then enjoyed a snack that had something to do with that state.  We also passed out papers with all the state names on it and commenced the 'license plate game' where we began marking off the names of all the states as we saw a vehicle from each state.

Opening the Bumby bag

We stopped at the Texas Welcome Center for lunch and picnicked, eating lots of leftovers from the holidays.  It was a huge spread of food, but our merry band consumes copious quantities of food.

Packing a picnic lunch

That night we drove to a hotel just south of Oklahoma City before we stopped and we unpacked the luggage and occupants of the vehicles.  It was a long trek and we weren't near there, but we were excited about the adventure that lay before us. 

Unpacking

The very next morning we were awakened to something that had the pilgrims worked up into a frenetic frenzy - SNOW!

A wintry wonderland

We wiped the windows clear and loaded up, ready to make it to northern Nebraska or South Dakota on the very next day.

Washing the windows

After the first day, we had driven 500 miles and gone from 71 degrees to 30 degrees. We were seeing landscape that was different from south Louisiana - rolling hills and wide open spaces.  We sang country music... loudly.  We ate lots of chex mix and spit lots of sunflower seed shells into cups. Aside from a few close calls, we were all still talking to one another despite very close proximity to one another and foul smells from the back of the van that I won't go into any more detail about.  After the first day we learned that while we are all different, we all share a common bond and a love for one another.  Who are we?  Where did we come from?  Is it possible to develop a craving for lutefisk?  Answers to come as we head further north.