A good day

Well, I think on Wednesday we avoided a white-knuckle driving day by taking a more northerly route. And we also had a more relaxed day because we had covered so much ground on Tuesday - an even 900 miles as it turned out. We decided to visit our friend Betty Remley in Anamosa,and since she was busy from 10 to noon, we had a chance to visit the Hoover Presidential museum in West Branch, Iowa, a short drive from Davenport.  I should say re-visit, because when we got there, we had a sense of déjà vu but no memory of having been there before. But a check with my journal showed that we had gone there last year - the same day we were hit by a truck from behind on I-80! I think the trauma of that event (which was frightening but resulted in no damage or injury ) had erased the memory of going to the Hoover museum.

I also think our visit last year was brief. We didn't do the full tour this time either, but we saw the small cabin where Hoover was born, the one-room school he attended and the Friends meeting house where his family worshipped. Hoover was the first president of my life - but only for two days. I was born March 2, 1933, and FDR was inaugurated on March 4th. But his administration undoubtedly had a profound influence during those two days -  all deeply subconscious, and thus all the more insidious, or perhaps beneficial, depending on your point of view. And point of view is everything with Hoover. He is maligned and greatly admired in about equal measure by historians, depending on what part of his life you look at. After WW I, he organized a huge relief effort in Europe, all from private sources, and is credited with saving 20 million lives. He earned the sobriquet "The  Great Humanitarian." But when the Great Depression hit the U.S., he was misled by his earlier reliance on private capital and also believed in a limited role for government, and so allowed millions of Americans to suffer hunger when he could have used the resources of the federal government to provide relief. A great irony. He could save Europe but not his own countrymen. A statue of Egyptian goddess of Life, Isis, stands outside the museum, as a gift of grateful Belgians, not grateful Americans. Instead, he is remembered in this country 

for vast encampments of the starving unemployed which came to be known as "Hoovervilles."

               Hoover's birthplace 

This tiny house was built by his father and grandfather. It's just the size Ellen and I would like to build. 

  The bedroom in Hoover's house with pull-out trundle bed for the children. 

     The living room. This area became the  kitchen in the wintertime. 

               The one-room school

    Interior of the Friends Meeting House

The statue of  Isis. It is another great irony that the name Isis, which represents  life, has in our time become the acronym for a murderous organization. 

The commemoration plaque for the Isis statue. 

We looked around West Branch, which is an attractive town, helped no doubt by the presence of the Hoover Museum, and Ellen visited a quilt store. Then we went to Anamosa to see Betty Remley. Betty is a young 97 years old, and she was - get this - the choir director in my father's church there in Anamosa when I entered high school 69 years ago! She remained as choir director for over 50 years! She is delightful, sharp as a tack, very savvy, and we love visiting her. 

        Ellen and Betty - two beauties! 

From Anamosa we headed back to I-80, going past the "scene of the crime" last year -  the truck collision incident - and heading west through Omaha to York, NE, where we spent last night. Got in about 8:30pm, a reasonable time. We saw the end of La Strada on TV and then watched a few Carol Burnett comedies - what a gifted comedienne she was!

Now on I-80 near Kearney, NE, we're going through a near-blizzard! Good grief!

Fortunately, it's melting. 

And now, near Paxton, NE, it is dry and almost sunny!