day 14: kc to st. louis: a drive, a store, and unexpected propaganda (part one)

The store of stores

I forgot a few things that I wanted to capture about our drive from Tulsa to KC. That's what I get for writing at night, rather than in the morning.

Joplin, mounds

To avoid a lane closure on the highway, we detoured through the small town of Joplin, Missouri, down its sweet little main street. Parts were old and well preserved, parts were clearly "revitalizing" with the beginnings of gentrification, and parts were boarded up and abandoned. I wonder which force will win, as the US economy gets even worse.

For some unknown reason, Joplin sports four different doggie day cares, pet spas, and pet grooming places. Does the entire state of Missouri take their pets to Joplin for care? Are the good people of Joplin more pet-friendly than folks in the average Southern town? We will never know.

We also drove past mounds -- the ancient kind. The landscape in this part of the country is completely flat. You can see as far as the horizon with not a rise and, if it's farmland, hardly a tree. The distinctive shapes of the mounds really stand out. We saw one that was tiered; you could clearly see three levels, like a ziggurat.

Leaving Joplin, we saw a small mound, on top of which there was a sculpture of two giant praying hands. The inscription: Hands In Prayer, World In Peace. I guess we're not praying enough. Pretty disgusting to do that to an ancient site.

Incomplete list

I remembered two more US states I haven't been in: West Virginia and Kentucky. I also missed a country (Wales) and recorded a city (Brussels) for a country (Belgium); thanks to wmtc readers mkk and Wally the 24 for catching those. 

I updated that post; I think I've got all the states now. And I think the list may now be permanent, but who knows. 

A free day leads us to many wonders

In the morning, in the cozy little Airbnb in KC, we looked for something to do on the way to St. Louis. We had a full day and didn't want to just hang around in a hotel room. But what was available? Let's see.

America's National Churchill Museum? Yep, it's a museum about Winston Churchill. Nope.

Harry S. Truman birthplace? Nope.

The Nicholas-Beazley Aviation Museum, "one of the preeminent museums in Marshall, MO"? Nope. And just how many museums are there in Marshall, Missouri? We will never know.

We found mentions of a scenic drive through Jefferson City, the state capital, and I wanted to tour Meramec Caverns, a commercial cave site outside St. Louis. Allan didn't think he wanted to go, but he was willing to drive there for me. He did end up going on the cave tour, and thank goddess he did. If he didn't experience it for himself, he might not have believed me. 

Jefferson City

Jefferson City also has a nice downtown, with upscale cafes and boutique stores. The Capitol Building resembles a smaller version of the US Capitol, surrounded by gardens and various statues, near the large brick Governor's Mansion. There was a Little Free Library that looked like a miniature Governor's Mansion. We walked around a little, and read some historic markers. 

There was a marker about Missouri's part in the Civil War, which was complicated. The state didn't secede, but it made some concessions to the Confederacy to placate the slave powers. There's also a big stone Ten Commandments. Separation of church and state much?

We saw a sculpture group commemorating the Lewis and Clark expedition. It includes York, the only Black person on the expedition -- Clark's slave. I'm guessing the monument was controversial when it was installed (too honest) and I wonder if it will survive.

In the Museum of Western Expansion (under St. Louis' Gateway Arch), we learned that York begged Clark to allow him join his wife, who was enslaved on a plantation. Clark repeatedly refused. Here's how the National Park Service describes York.

A fronteirsman, hunter, and likely the first African American to cross the continent, York was an American explorer who made important contributions to the Lewis and Clark Expedition. He was enslaved by Captain William Clark and after the expedition's return was denied his payment and his freedom.

As I was writing this, I looked online to find a link, and found this on the "Visit Missouri" tourism site.

The plaza includes statues of Captains Meriwether Lewis and William Clark, York (Clark’s man-servant), George Druillard (French-Canadian-Shawnee hunter and interpreter) and Seaman (Lewis’s Newfoundland dog), plus a journal, telescope, guns and hats. [emphasis added]

Clark's man-servant??? My head is exploding! This "man-servant" was owned by the famous explorer. Back in Tulsa, on the Greenwood Rising building, there is a quote from James Baldwin.

Not everything that can be faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.

Leave it to James Baldwin to nail it so concisely. 

I'm going to email Missouri Tourism to complain.

One store, two minds blown

Driving south from Jefferson City, I saw a store -- “Dutch Bakery” -- and asked Allan to turn in. Always happy when I suggest a bakery, Allan was glad to do so. Maybe we could get some freshly baked goodies.

We headed for the cookies, then started to look around. Oh. My. God. What is this place??

It is huge. It is enormous. It is humungous. It is the largest store I have ever seen.

Do you see the image in this post? That is of one side of one aisle, about one third of the length of the wall. All candy. I paced it out: 20 paces. Not heel to toe, actual paces which are about one meter (three feet) each. 

Every combination you can think of. Almonds in milk chocolate, almonds in dark chocolate, almonds in milk chocolate and caramel, almonds in dark chocolate and caramel, then the whole thing again with peanuts, then with raisins, then with coffee beans. Then with yogurt coating. With strawberry yogurt, blueberry yogurt, and on and on and on. Then a sugar-free section. And maybe 15-20 bags of each of these varieties – and the bags are heavy and generous.

Opposite the candy, saltwater taffy. Saltwater taffy in 15 different flavours, alone and in combos. Jelly beans. 20, 30, 40 different kinds of jellybeans. And this is just one aisle.

I said, “Oh man, my mother would love this. If she was here, she’d never stop talking about it!”

To which Allan replied, “I’ll never stop talking about it!”

I suspected that the “Dutch” in the title referred to Amish or Mennonites. I saw some young women working, and their dress and head-covering confirmed it. Allan saw a sign that said, “Modest dress is appreciated.”

Allan retrieved my phone from the car and started taking pictures. (The camera would have been too much.) I think he took more pictures of the Dutch Bakery than of Cahokia. Aisles of grains, aisles of rice, aisles of dried fruit. It just went on and on.

No advertising. No brands. Every bag has a label: product, ingredients, unit price, weight, price. And the prices were ridiculously, insanely low.

The deli had 20 hams on display. A city block of cheese. There were picnic tables, and several seniors were having lunch, ordering from a menu of 15-20 different sandwiches.

All things considered, we were very restrained: a small bag of ginger molasses cookies, saltwater taffy (which, once started, I cannot stop, so must limit access!), and chocolate-covered espresso beans. At the checkout, I told the cashier (in traditional Amish dress) how much we loved the store. She was very pleased, so I continued, telling her we have never seen a store like this. 

“What? Never? You’re not from here, then?”

“We’re from Canada.”

“Oh, Canada, that’s why. In the US, stores like this are everywhere. Anywhere there are – “ she paused a little, I tried to make her comfortable – “anywhere there are Mennonites. 

“There are many Mennonites in Canada, especially in the province of Manitoba. Maybe they have stores like this there.”

I enthused some more, and we thanked each other. 

I don’t know, one day we might stop talking about this store. Anything is possible.

day 13: kansas city: baseball and barbecue

Last night, after Allan came back from Gardner's, we weren't in the mood for much of anything, but we did need to eat dinner. I looked up restaurants in the suburban area we were staying in, Sand Springs. I found a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop/diner kind of place, and we got there before they closed. 

It was like something out of another era -- very basic. The server asked me, "What can I get for ya, baby?" and by the time I left had called me baby, sweetheart, and hon -- the trifecta. I had fried chicken and mashed potatoes. I was happy. 

On the way there, we passed what appeared to be a huge castle. Yes, a castle. I thought it must be a resort of some kind. On the way back, we found it again, pulled off to the side, and Allan took pictures. It is actually two huge castles, connected to each other. Outside, there's a dragon and a Pegasus. Spider-Man looks out from a turret. But there was no business sign, and it appeared to be a private residence. We tried to drive around it, but sure enough: a gate. 

When we got back, I looked it up. A family remodeled their home into a castle. Everyone on the thread I found loved it and thought it was beautiful. Not one person was ragging on them or declaring it ugly and wasteful. Hmm.

Eating like an American

We were up really early this morning, went out for breakfast, then hit the road for Kansas City. 

We went to a breakfast chain that might be featured in some story about how badly Americans eat, how outsized the portions are, how much fat and salt is in everything. It's called The Big Biscuit -- and let me tell you, the food was delicious. 

When we walked in, the server gave me a flower -- a long-stemmed carnation -- and I suddenly remembered it was Mothers' Day. 

I decided to eat something typically Southern that I've never had: chicken and biscuits. It's a piece of fried chicken fillet on a big, buttery biscuit, with a touch of chicken gravy. It comes with cheese, too, but I asked for no cheese. 

Even your choice of side -- potatoes or grits -- can come plain or "loaded". Loaded means more cheese, plus sour cream and bacon. (I did not go for the loaded.) 

It's completely ridiculous. I'm sure I had enough salt for the entire week in that one meal. And you know what? I don't really care. Two weeks out of my life eating too much meat and fried food will not make a difference in my overall health. It won't be long til I'm back to eating salad, yogurt, and dried fruit.

I ate half, and was happy to have the other half on the drive back to Kansas City.

Red Sox vs Royals

I've always wanted to go to Kauffman Stadium. It's of the same generation as Dodger Stadium, which I love. Plus I had this "see a game in KC and eat at Stroud's" plan. I was excited to fulfill the other half of that little dream.

We got there plenty early, and it's a good thing, because security wouldn't let us in with my tote bag and our camera bag. You can only bring in clear plastic bags, with clear plastic bags inside them. Which explained all the clear plastic totes I was seeing, and why most people were just holding their phones in their hands.

We had to go back to the car, baking in the very hot parking lot, and regroup. Allan was annoyed because the rules seemed to be applied inconsistently. I think parents with diaper bags get waved in. Allan wondered if we could borrow someone's baby and say it was our grandchild. I was able to bring in my small pouch with my phone, and we took the camera out of the bag. We did not borrow anyone's baby, so I am not writing this from jail.

Kauffman Stadium is indeed a beautiful park -- very open and airy, small, unassuming, with that kitschy "crown" scoreboard and the iconic fountains. Their scoreboard is great (the one in St. Louis was awful) and the fans seem happy and knowledgeable. Allan got us great seats for both games, right behind first base. A vendor came around with vodka lemonade, my favourite. The Red Sox, a new baseball park, great seats, a cold drink, and Allan. Happiness. 

I assume that our sitting through the national anthem and God Bless America, as we have always done, drew huge disapproval, but Midwesterners are too polite to say anything. There were tons of Red Sox fans there! More than a smattering, a really decent showing. My man Rafael Devers hit a 2-run homer to put the Sox up 3-1. Despite the best efforts of Sox closer Aroldis Chapman, the Sox held on for the win. We had a great time.

It was about 27 C / 80 F, bright blue, cloudless, and we had no shade, but plenty of sunscreen. We also now bring seat cushions. We got these cushions with handles -- ordered them from Canadian Tire on our way to a minor-league game last year -- and they are fantastic. A ballgame without back pain, what a concept. Yeah, I'm old, and I'm owning it. 

The Lefties

I was wearing a t-shirt from The Lefties, the minor-league team we saw play in Port Angeles, in Washington State. I was wearing it just because it's loose-fitting and comfortable, and baseball. 

A man came trotting up to us, calling, "Excuse me, excuse me, ma'am?" I stopped, and he said, "Can I ask you, what are The Lefties?" I told him, it's a minor league baseball team in Washington State. He said, "It's a real team?" I said, yes, it sure is. He said, "That is awesome, wow, how cool!" (I thanked him for not attacking me because of the name, but he didn't seem to understand what I meant.)

Then he looked at the shirt more and said, "Is that a beaver?" I said, yes, I think so, and he said that made a lot of sense, from Washington State. 

He also asked, what level baseball. I had to think for a moment, but came up with, "It's an independent team, right?" -- checking with Allan -- and then said, "Yes, independent, part of the Pacific Coast League." (Turns out it's West Coast League.) The guy said, "Oh wow, that's even better, serious baseball fans, then!" He wished us a great game and a happy Mothers' Day and seemed truly pleased. 

Barbecue's last stand

After the game, we made our way back to the same Airbnb, which is suddenly a lot more spacious, since we only brought in what we need for one night, and left everything else in the car. We were both drenched with sweat, and a shower and clean clothes felt heavenly. Then we went out for one last night of barbecue. Our first choice, Joe's Kansas City BBQ, is closed Sundays, so we went with Slaps. 

When we got there, a long line of people was snaking through the place and out the door. (You can drink beer while you wait. We did not.) You order at a counter, where one guy has a big cleaver and prepares your choice of meat, and another one ladles your sides. Then you bring your tray to a picnic table. You pick up styrofoam plates and plastic utensils! The least green place I have ever eaten it -- and it's especially disturbing, since no one recycles here. Cans and bottles only. In Tulsa, not even that! Everything just chucked!

Anyway, aside from the shocking waste, the place is great. Super low-key and plain, the very definition of unpretentious, everyone eating at picnic tables, and just chowing down on great food. The ribs were different than others we've had, and completely delicious. The beans were drenched in molasses, absolute heaven. We ordered about twice as much as we should have. It easily could have fed four people, and it was only $43.

Now we're two sleeps away from puppies! 

day 12: tulsa: greenwood rising, plus more street art

This morning we opted not to wake up early to stand in line for baked goods, choosing a slower morning over local colour. We didn't even fulfill our alternate intention of getting downtown before the Mayfest crowds. But we did check off everything on our list for the day. 

I bought the fish

Back in the Tulsa Arts District, we walked around the festival for a bit and got some food. I showed Allan the art I fell in love with the day before. Fortunately I came to my senses and did not buy something that cost more than my monthly mortgage payment purely for esthetic purposes. 

We saw some smaller (and less expensive) pieces, and were chatting a bit with the artist. He asked where we were visiting from, and upon hearing "Canada," he brought up the political situation in the US, practically out of nowhere. I was really surprised. People are not talking about it with strangers. I tread carefully at first, feeling him out, and quickly learned he was a good guy. We had a good talk, but it was very unexpected. 

And then... I bought the fish. The bottlecap fish I posted yesterday. I have plans for a grouping of a colourful wooden fish we bought in Oaxaca about a million years ago, a replica Gaudi (Park Guell) lizard, a colourful wooden streetscape from St. John's (Newfoundland), and this fish. 

I can well understand why Tulsa has this annual festival in May. It was 78 F / 25 C early in the day, heading for the 85 F / 29 C. Shade was at a premium. 

We found the murals

We found all the Arts District murals, which includes the one pictured here. In case you don't know: the date is "Bloomsday," the day that James Joyce's famous novel Ulysses takes place; the YES! is from the book's famous ending; the glasses are Joyce's; and the glass is that iconic Irish beverage: a pint of Guinness.

I look forward to posting pics of all the murals on Flickr. It's quite a collection. 

Greenwood lives

We left the festival for the Greenwood District, again less than a 10 minute walk. Greenwood is the location of the former "Black Wall Street," the thriving Black community that was the site of one of the most shameful moments in US history, the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre. The neighbourhood has been rebuilt, but was destroyed all over again, cut up and cut off by a highway. What wasn't destroyed by bullets and fire was later destroyed by so-called urban renewal.

We found and shot more murals, then went to Greenwood Rising, a museum about the Black experience in Tulsa, focusing on the massacre. It was truly excellent -- very interactive, very strong and honest, emotionally gripping (how could it not be), but with a focus on resiliency and hope. 

The story is a nightmare. If it was fiction it would be too wildly unbelievable; people would say the author laid it on too thick. 

Black people came to Oklahoma to escape Jim Crow. In Oklahoma, Native Americans (most of them there through forced relocation), white people, and Black people were living in relative peace and cooperation. Then oil was discovered, and white people came to claim it in large numbers. One of their first order of business was to pass a whack of Jim Crow laws.

Blacks were only allowed to live in one part of town. They couldn't go to white schools, visit white doctors or dentists, go to a white barbershop. So, as in so many American cities, Black people built an alternative universe, a Black one. Greenwood was a vibrant, thriving place that came to be known as the Negro Wall Street. And the success of that community ate away at the dominant white establishment.

A group of Black men came to the courthouse to try to prevent a lynching. Any time a young Black male was accused of "assaulting" a white woman (which could mean he didn't lower his head and look away as she passed, or didn't do that fast enough, or almost anything else), townspeople would storm the jail, drag the man out, and lynch him. This was happening all over the south, in great numbers. In Greenwood, men were determined to prevent that.

The Black men gathered, some of them armed. The idea of this so outraged white people, that they attacked the Black crowd, and then -- vastly outnumbering the Black residents -- visited a deadly pogrom on Greenwood. They shot anyone they saw, no matter their gender or age. They looted the shops and houses. And they burned down the entire community. Burned to the ground.

And then... The wild, murderous lawlessness was blamed on the victims, and publicized as an "uprising". Survivors were forced into internment camps and needed passes and permission to leave.  Tulsa never acknowledged what happened, and no reparations were made. After much agitation, this finally changed in 2020.

I really appreciated the strong, honest language used in the exhibits. For example, the Ku Klux Klan is very rightly called a "domestic terrorist group". I think most Americans have a different mental image of terrorism, but Black Americans have always lived under the threat of terrorism, whether that was the auction block, slave catchers, lynching, or racist policing.

Books and more books

The museum was a very emotional experience. After, we went next door to Fulton Street Books and Coffee, to decompress. They have an excellent collection of books on Greenwood and antiracism, along with some queer titles. 

On the way back to the car, we ducked into Magic City Books, to confirm how many Greenwood-related titles they had on display. I had guessed 12, and Allan thought I was exaggerating or misremembering. Guess what? There were 22 titles! I will update that post.

Because I bought the Bottlecap Fish, I did not buy the graphic novel about Woody Guthrie's Dustbowl Ballads. I believe I am owed a medal for my restraint.

Allan dropped me at the Airbnb, then headed off to find Gardner's Used Books, Oklahoma's biggest bookstore. I spent a few hours on the lovely, shaded deck, reading, writing, and relaxing. 

Our trip is almost over. Still to come: the Red Sox at Kansas City, the John Brown Historic Site (which we learned about on the drive to Tulsa), and one more barbecue dinner. Then we drive to St. Louis, stay one night at an airport motel, maybe eat more Mexican food. May 13 is a very long travel day, then... puppies!! We can't wait to see them. 

day 11: tulsa: archives, street festival, and street art

One of Tulsa's most famous murals,
of one of its most famous sons.

Yesterday was Allan's second day in the Dylan archives. He loved the experience, and was sad that it was over. He actually said he's trying to focus on how fortunate he is to have been here, something he never thought he would do, and not how short the time was, and all the things he didn't see. That's a Big Thing for Allan. Well done.

We headed to the downtown early. After Allan went off to the archives, I did something I always like to do when I'm not in Port Hardy: get a mani-pedi! It was lovely. I've been considering taking a break from sightseeing to have a spa day, but for various reasons opted not to. But a bit of time making my hands and feet look and feel better was very nice.

Art that I loved and more amazing pizza from a truck

When I was finished, the Mayfest booths and food trucks were open for business, and people were starting to mill around. I did a full circuit to see every art or craft booth. There was lots of the usual suspects -- the standard pottery, jewelry, and woodworking, lots of shlock, and a few real knock-outs. The first booth I saw totally knocked me out: Hill Brin Design. I fell in love with this piece, and I knew Allan would love it, too.

This is well out of our price range. We're talking four times as much as we can reasonably spend, even on something very special. Yet I was seriously considering rationalizing the expense, thinking about how we could ship it to our family in Oregon, and retrieve it on our next road trip down there. I knew we shouldn't, yet I was already planning how I would make it work.

The other art I really enjoyed were these folk-art pieces, made of bottle caps and other found junk. I love playful work like this, and the fish motif is perfect for our coastal life. We might buy one of these. (Link to artist to follow.)

I also really enjoyed these metal sculptures. Plus the artist charmed me with his story of taking a workshop, falling in love with the teacher, now they're married and are making art and running a business together. (Link to artist to follow.)

After seeing every art and craft booth, and sampling some food trucks, I was done for the afternoon, with several hours to spare. I wanted to drive back to the Airbnb and sit on the shady deck and read, but with all the road closures for the festival, if I left, I'd never get back in. It was a hot day (not for Tulsa, but for me), very sunny, and there was very little shade. I sat in the car with all the windows open and read. Not ideal, but whatever.

Allan appeared right on time, because the archives closed and he had to leave. He was super excited about his experience. We headed straight back to Dante's Woodfire for dinner, the pizza was that good. The picnic table was not in use and was in the shade. 

Dante's is in a funky neighbourhood right above the highway. The previous day, we thought we must have bad directions -- maybe I punched in the wrong address? -- because the neighbourhood looks strictly low-income residential or industrial. This little pizza joint is a real treasure.

Murals, and a family scene (seen)

We went briefly back to the Airbnb to regroup and plan an art safari, to see some of Tulsa's famous murals. I love street art, and this whole city is dotted with murals. (A mural is visible from Dante's pizza truck.) We did some searching online, then dotted a paper tourism map with what we found, and set out to search. 

There is a high concentration of murals in the Arts District, but there was no point trying to do that with the street festival's first night going on. We parked slightly outside of the downtown, and found the murals in the Cathedral district, and the Blue Dome district. (Tulsa's "districts" are tiny areas, no more than a few square blocks.) It was a beautiful clear night, and it was fun walking around looking for the art. 

Allan also spotted something even better. High up on a brick wall, above a famous mural, there was a hole -- the size of a missing brick -- and a little bird was perched in it, feeding her tiny chicks!

There were actually two adult birds, obviously a mating pair, flying in, perching in the hole, then flying out again, perching on some wires, looking around, and flying off. We could make out the teeny tiny heads (or maybe mouths) of the little ones inside the hole. The location was brilliant -- too high for humans, likely unseen by predators. Some weeds spilling out of the hole was the only clue that anything might be in the tiny space. We watched for a long time and took lots of pictures.

We found some great murals, including some of the most famous ones, like the Astronaut and Leon Russell. We hope to get the murals in the Arts District today, before the festival heats up. Also today: Greenwood Rising, and a used bookstore. 

day 10: tulsa: the rest of the centers, and hanging around while allan dives in

our newest fridge magnet

Both the Woody Guthrie and the Bob Dylan Centers house the official archives of both artists. Time in the archive is by application and appointment only. Allan applied in advance, and spent a lot of time figuring out what he would focus on in the two days we allotted for this. 

As I mentioned earlier, if it were possible, Allan would spend hours, days -- months -- combing through the Dylan archives. He is especially interested in the development of songs. The archives hold Dylan's famous notebooks and papers (sheets, scraps, many on hotel stationery) which reveal his creative process of working out song lyrics. 

Dylan famously changed and continues to change lyrics over time. For many songs, the version that lands on the album is a moment in time, the one version of the many that could have been included. In concert, Dylan will sing well-known songs in various ways. Live performances, both official and bootlegs, will always differ.

While I do find this interesting, I lack the patience required to comb through and compare versions. I look at a page from a notebook with typing and handwriting, and think, this is interesting -- and move on. Allan is one of the diehards who takes the time to analyze and mentally chart the changes.

We headed into town early, and decided to meet back at the car. I returned to the Woody Center; the desk staff welcomed me back. I had missed a wall of audio that is paired with photographs, small sections available through touch-screens and headphones. It was actually a documentary about Woody broken up into bite-size pieces, a very smart technique. 

I visited the small gift shop, and was very disappointed that the t-shirt I had my heart set on is sold out in the size I need. The helpful staff suggested I keep an eye on it online, as they will re-stock it soon. I did get this nice tee, along with a fridge magnet for our collection. Most of the tees had messages of resisting fascism or standing up for equality. There was a great "all humans are equal" tee that interested me, but it was superimposed on the outline of the US map. 

Next stop, the Dylan Center, to see the current (non-permanent) exhibit, about Jesse Ed Davis. Davis was a Native American musician from Oklahoma, who was a great blues and rock guitarist. He is best remembered for playing with Taj Mahal, but he played with many country and rock greats. His career included the Rolling Stones' famous Rock and Roll Circus and the Concert for Bangladesh. If you're familiar with the guitar solo in Jackson Browne's song "Doctor My Eyes" -- that's Jesse Ed Davis. Davis died in 1988 from his heroin addiction. It was a really good exhibit, curated by the poet Joy Harjo. 

After that, I walked around the neighbourhood a bit, stopping into Magic City Books, a great independent bookstore owned the Tulsa Literary Collective. I felt like buying everything! Good thing we're flying. Front and center, there is a large local-interest section (speaking of Joy Harjo, there were signed copies of many of her books), and a whole section on the Tulsa Massacre. I was surprised at how many books have been written about it; there had to be at least 10 titles.

In the Arts District and on the Guthrie Green (the park in front of the Dylan/Guthrie Centers), trucks and booths were being set up for Tulsa Mayfest. I feel like I should be excited we're in town for this, and I once would have been. Now a street festival just feels like noise, crowds, and mediocre music. 

I hung around and read while I waited for Allan. He emerged shortly after 4:30, not having moved once -- not to eat or get a water, not even to pee -- the entire day. He had spent the whole day hand-copying pages with a pencil, the only method allowed in most archives, including this one. It was fun hearing about his experience communing with Dylan's papers. 

We stopped at Caz's for a thirst-quencher, then drove in search of Dante's Woodfire, a funky pizza joint working out of a truck. The guys in the truck were super nice and friendly -- and the pizzas were incredible. Really some of the best we've ever had. We ate at a picnic table, and took our leftovers home in this box decorated by one of the cooks, their "resident artist". It's a slice of pizza riding a gorilla.

The Dante's chef told us about a local bakery called Country Bird. It's open four hours a week; it's mission is "storytelling through baked goods". A line forms more than an hour before opening. The Dante's guy suggested we order one of everything.

Today, May 9, is Cookie Day! The day my little golden oreo joined our family. We miss the dogs so much! 

day 9: tulsa: a full day with woody and dylan

Both the Woody Guthrie Center and the Bob Dylan Center are closed Sundays, Mondays, and Tuesdays, which figured in to the complicated planning of this vacation. Now, with the trip more than half over, we have finally arrived at our main focus. We have been thoroughly enjoying ourselves so far, but these were the days we were most anticipating.

The Woody Guthrie Center

We started in the Woody Guthrie Center, feeling the two museums were best experienced chronologically. I don't know how Allan waited, being so close to the Bob Dylan Center, but not going. But we had decided we would do the two museums together -- we would normally separate and each move at our pace -- so he had to be patient.

The Woody Guthrie Center begins with a short documentary narrated by Steve Earle, situating Woody in history, but focusing mainly on his enduring influence. Various artists spoke about how his life and work influenced him, some obvious people, others not as much -- Billy Bragg, Ani DiFranco, Tom Morello, Springsteen, someone who I think was Boots Riley. It was very well done, and for me, it was very emotional, listening to people articulate what I also feel. 

The exhibits are beautifully presented, more thematic than chronological, and very interactive. 

There's a fantastic display of Woody's drawings and paintings, reproduced on metal tiles. Like Joni Mitchell (and to a lesser extent, Dylan), Woody was as much a visual artist as a musical artist. We both noted how many different styles Woody used -- playful cartoons, swathes of colour, line drawings reminiscent of Picasso, using lettering as art. Of course he had no formal training in art of any kind; it just poured out of him.

The Center's website lists this as the permanent collection:

* 15-minute introductory film to the life of Woody Guthrie and his influences looped throughout the day in the center’s theater 

* Woody’s Footsteps interactive timeline wall that follows his travels from Okemah, Oklahoma, to Pampa, Texas, then on to Los Angeles and New York

* The Dust Bowl area where visitors can learn more about the era and its effect on Woody through a Dust Bowl virtual reality experience, view an excerpt from Ken Burns’ documentary, and listen to Woody’s Dust Bowl Ballads 

* Woody’s America interactive map that includes information about Woody’s life, music history, as well as Oklahoma, U.S., and world history 

* Music Bar for listening to Woody’s recorded songs 

* Lyric Journal of Woody’s lyrics according to selected topics 

* Lyric Writing Station for composing an original verse to a song and submitting to the database 

* Exhibits and videos of artists who continue Woody’s tradition of writing what they see 

* The original handwritten lyrics of “This Land is Your Land” and videos of others’ renditions of the song 

*Woody’s fiddle, guitar, banjo, and mandolin

The interactive map was fantastic. It's a smart-board map of the United States, dotted with details from Woody's drawings -- a guitar, a man, a train, and so on. You tap on a moving icon to see and hear information about Woody in that part of the country. It's a very clever and engaging piece, emphasizing his travels and the different phases of his life -- Oklahoma, Texas, California, New York.

The current (non-permanent) exhibit was about hip-hop. I'm glad it's there, exposing visitors (especially older folks) to hip-hop as a form of folk music. The blues museum in St. Louis did this, too. But it wasn't much of an exhibit. There was one interesting section on artists taking control of their own music, which has been an issue for Black-created music from the earliest days of the recording industry. Other than that, it was mostly memorabilia.

I overheard staff tell visitors the whole museum takes about an hour to experience, but I think one hour would be a very cursory visit. The staff are awesome -- so friendly and knowledgeable -- and very young and hip. Also, the Center is hiring; there's a full-time archivist position posted. In some alternate reality, Allan would have the credentials to apply, and we'd end up moving to Oklahoma for his dream job.

We spent a couple of hours there, really soaking it in, then went for lunch. The Centers are in Tulsa's Arts District, which is actually the former site of Greenwood, the so-called Black Wall Street, where the infamous pogrom and massacre (not "race riot"!) took place. We don't usually go out for both lunch and dinner, but I wasn't able to plan anything else, and an extra meal out is not going to break the bank. We ate at Chowhouse. Like everywhere we've been so far, the food and the service was great. Even more than in Kansas City, folks speak with a pronounced twang, and everyone says "ma'am". In a non-ironic way. 

The Bob Dylan Center

After lunch, it was time for Bob! This museum also begins with a very good film, presented as an immersive experience, with images on all sides of the room, a walk-through of Dylan's life and career. (That is, his career so far. Dylan is still writing his own story.) 

The permanent exhibit at the Dylan Center is organized two ways -- a chronological outer ring, with thematic displays in the middle. Visitors get an iPod and headset for an augmented reality experience. Throughout the exhibit, there are markers: you hold your iPod to the marker to hear audio related to that section. Really nicely done.

The sheer scope and breadth of Dylan's work continually amaze me. I am in awe. I'm willing to bet that most people who enjoy some of Dylan's music actually have no idea how much he's done -- how many different kinds of music he's made, how many different people he has been. Frankly, if it weren't for Allan, I wouldn't know either. Like most fans, I would have stopped listening to Dylan at a certain point in his career, and been totally unaware of anything after that point.

As with any important artist whose work spans many decades, there are going to be clunkers along the way. An artist should always be evolving and trying new things, and not everything is going to work. That is, or should be, a hallmark of any great musician. It doesn't matter to me that I don't love all of Dylan's music. I love enough of it, and for the rest, I'm glad it's there.

Dylan's creative restlessness, his hunger to explore and expand, is almost unparalleled. Joni, too, has that restless creativity, but her movement from one musical place to the next is more studious and controlled, where Dylan's is a flood. 

In the museum, there was so much that I had never seen or heard before. The thematic displays in the middle were especially engaging, focusing on specific songs or sounds. In this image, you can see the thematic displays identified by the blue vertical title markers. 

Towards the end of the Dylan display, I was flagging. There is only so much information you can take in, plus being on my feet for so long was not pleasant. Many of the exhibit groupings include little seats (worked into the design), and I took advantage of many of them! I benefit from little micro-breaks. Even 30 seconds or one minute of rest will help, so I did that frequently. 

We purposely budgeted multiple days for the two centers, knowing when we finally made it here, we would want lots of time. It's wonderful to see Allan enjoy himself so much. I remember feeling (and writing) that during our trip to Egypt. I'm having a great time, but it's even better seeing that he's having such a great time, too.

Our old friend thin-crust pizza, where have you been

Eventually we pulled ourselves away. I was in dire need of a caffeine break. I thought we'd go back to the Airbnb for tea, then come back to town for dinner, but we decided to cut down on driving. Googling, I found a promising-looking cafe in the Cherry Street district, then stupidly spent too much money, caffeine, and sugar on some frothy iced drink, and felt awful. Bah. But we had a good rest, while Allan searched for dinner. (Somehow I keep hearing, "...having to be scrounging your next meeeeallll..."!)

Allan is in charge of finding and choosing dinner every night for the rest of the trip. In KC, we went back to the same barbecue restaurant so I could have the lamb ribs. Allan really didn't want to, but did that for me, so I said for the rest of the trip we would eat anywhere he wanted, every night. Total win-win: I'll enjoy any place he picks out, and I won't have to make decisions.

One thing Allan loves that we can't get at home (and really haven't had much since leaving New York) is thin-crust, wood-fired pizza. It seems this is known as New York-style pizza here. (Everywhere?) We went to East Village Bohemian. Allan had a quattro formaggio, and I had fig-and-goat cheese. Both were very good, and I would have said both were excellent... until the pizza we had the next night.

This is as good a place as any to note that we have been constantly amazed at parking on this trip. Yes, parking. Everywhere we go, in all three cities, parking is free or almost free, and plentiful. It's very strange. Allan keeps thinking the spots are illegal, because how could such convenient parking exist? (Being amazed at parking: is this the final phase in officially being old?)

day 9: tulsa: in which the woody guthrie center moves me to tears

We spent all day in the Woody Guthrie Center and the Bob Dylan Center, and we are going back tomorrow. It was a profound and intense experience for me. I do want to write about the Centers -- what they house, the creative and engaging ways the information is presented -- but I need to process it more before I do.

I was choked up and teary-eyed by so much in the Woody exhibits. It's hard for me to explain how much he means to me. 

There are certain historical figures that I call "my great heroes," because I can't find a better expression. These are people who I feel close to in a spiritual way. That word, spiritual, often implies religion and some kind of belief in an immortality, but, as wmtc readers know, I am an atheist and completely irreligious. For me the word means feeling part of something larger than oneself -- of feeling, finding, needing a deep purpose and meaning in one's life. 

So when I say someone is my great hero, it isn't merely that I admire them, although obviously I do. It's that I actually feel they are part of me, that their life helps me and guides me. One of those people is Joni Mitchell. And one of them is Woody Guthrie. 

Allan and I toured the exhibits together today, and were often laughing or shaking our heads in awe together. I sensed that Allan had the same reaction in the Dylan Center that I had in the Woody Center: being so moved that it is nearly overwhelming. And while I don't think of Bob Dylan in the very personal way that I think of Joni or Woody, I have been listening to his music deeply for 50 years, and have always been in awe of his outsized talents. 

A more practical and (maybe) less emotional review tomorrow.

day 8: tulsa: a drive through kansas, a walking tour, and a sudden change of plans

"The Golden Driller" is as tall as
the Statue of Liberty, sans pedestal.

Yesterday we got an earlier start, and drove through the state of Kansas to Tulsa. When I was planning this trip, I didn't think about doing anything between Kansas City and Tulsa; I probably should have left a little more time for that. When I saw signs for Osawatomie and Potawatomie, I remembered John Brown, one of the more fascinating figures in American history. 

The John Brown Memorial Park and Museum was not open for the day as we passed the exit. On the way back, we'll be heading for a day game, so no John Brown on this trip. This is in keeping with all the times we missed John Brown historical site in New York State!

We also passed Will Rogers' birthplace and museum, and Coffeyville, a small town which boasts about its run-in with some outlaws called the Dalton Gang. We aren't especially interested in either place, but it was interesting to know they were there.

We also passed through the tiny town of Talala. Tala-la. Not only do we see Tala's name in that, but I called her Talabobala. Ah, Tala. Cookie often reminds me of her: so beautiful, so smart, such a little devil. 

The most direct route from KC to Tulsa was not a major highway, but mostly one lane in each direction. We drove through huge stretches with nothing but farmland to the horizon, and through some very tiny communities, until we hit the ugly outskirts of Tulsa. Outskirts look the same everywhere.

The previous day, I had booked a walking tour of downtown Tulsa. I saw it online and it sounded good. Tulsa has a relatively large collection of art deco buildings, and hidden tunnels built by oil magnates who didn't want to mingle with the riff raff. When we got into town, it was pouring -- the first rain we've seen on the whole trip. (We had beautiful weather for our game in St. Louis, and the following night, the game was rained out!) We didn't really want to spend two hours walking in the rain, but the guide said the tour was mainly indoors. 

Mary took us through several nearby buildings, walking us through Tulsa's history and pointing out architectural and design details. It was... all right. Not stupendous, but not bad. We learned a lot about the city's history, from an Indigenous settlement, through the cattle industry, the discovery of oil, various economic busts, and finally the revitalization of the downtown. And we definitely saw architecture and art that we would not have seen otherwise.

I was wondering if Killers of the Flower Moon would come up, and it did. Once, through one of the oil magnates who married an Osage woman -- but apparently loved her, and they were married before her land become so valuable, and a second time when we were in a building where part of the movie was filmed. I asked her how the book was received, and she said "very well". She also said the same is true of the "race riots". None of them learned about this when they were growing up, but the city now acknowledges these difficult parts of its history.

Race riots: that's what white Tulsa calls the massacre. The same term that is used for the turmoil in inner-city Detroit and Newark during the 1970s. There was only one "race" rioting in Greenwood, Tulsa, and it was white. The incident is more accurately described as a pogrom -- an act of terrorism. And it was a massacre, of Black people by white people. 

We were very tired after a long drive and a two-hour walking tour. We drove to our Airbnb, and had a rude shock. Allan walked in first and immediately said there was a very strong smell -- and Allan has almost no sense of smell. I was barely over the threshold before I started to cough and choke. It was a scented air "freshener" smell, which I am very sensitive to. The smell was so strong, that even standing on the driveway with the front door open, I was coughing.

I messaged the host and asked if there was something we could unplug or undo to air out the house. He told me the locations of three plug-ins, and also said a lot of rain was expected, so not to leave the windows open. We then realized we couldn't stay there. There was simply no way. Breathing is not optional! 

I had to find another Airbnb at the last minute, with about an hour before the same-day window for booking would close. I figured, book something now, worry about the refund later. I really wanted an Airbnb, as opposed to a hotel, because I want a kitchen, and I had been planning on doing laundry. We are staying in Tulsa five nights, and an Airbnb would be much more comfortable.

I did find a place pretty quickly, at a comparable price. It seemed very far away, but we later realized it's just on the other side of the city. Both places are outside of downtown, but in opposite directions. The first place was in a neighbourhood clearly in transition, with tiny little houses, some lovely and some very run-down. The place we're now staying in is upscale suburban, an apartment above the garage of a large house. It includes a small deck overlooking a wooded area. On the drive there, I was still coughing. 

Allan went out to get supplies (there was only decaf coffee!) and dinner while I started doing laundry. I also messaged the first Tulsa host, who said I should officially cancel the booking through the app. He refunded four nights out five, and no fees. This would have left me paying $330 for the privilege of almost having an asthma attack on someone's driveway.

There was no point arguing with the host. He was acting like he did me a huge favour by issuing a refund at all. He kept saying I should have told him in advance, he would have taken care of it. That never would have occurred to me; in a lifetime of travel, this has never been a problem. 

I ended communication with the host and contacted Airbnb support. It didn't take long, and I did end up with a full refund, which has already gone through on my credit card. 

Today and the rest of this week, we have finally arrived at the impetus for this trip: the Bob Dylan Center and the Woody Guthrie Center. Besides the exhibits, Allan will do some deeper Dylan research. He feels like he needs weeks, months, or years to read and listen to everything in the extensive Bob Dylan archives. We've talked about how our time here cannot be enough, and how we should choose to feel grateful we were able to be here, rather than focusing on the incompleteness. 

day 7: kansas city: in which another public library blows me away

Newsflash: Kansas City is a hidden gem. This is actually a really cool city, and I would love to spend more time here. This is totally unexpected!

We had a slow morning (I let Allan sleep until after 10) and we really didn't get out until early afternoon. We drove downtown, intending to see the big central library, Union Station, and the Kauffman Center for the Arts -- which we did, but not in the way we were expecting.

The library

The "community bookshelf" at KCPL is actually
the facade of a parking garage.

The Kansas City Public Library's central branch. Oh. My. God. I could not believe it. I freaked out over Seattle's Central Library, but I expected that. Kansas City was a total surprise. With the exception of Seattle -- a much bigger city -- this is the greatest library I have ever seen. 

First of all, the famous "book spine" facade is not the library: it's a parking garage. It's beautiful and inventive, and we took lots of pictures. There's a good story about it here. 

But the library itself is housed in a huge bank building, with soaring ceilings, and so much space. We wandered around the beautiful ground floor, thinking we were seeing the library. Then I introduced myself as a visiting librarian to a lovely librarian at the desk, and asked if she had a map or a floor plan. And that's when all the fun began.

Kansas City Public Library's Central Branch

She gave me: a map of the library (a full page, double-sided), a hardcover book Kansas City's Public Library: 150 Years, a big magazine-style Kansas City visitor's guide, and a KCPL-branded pamphlet for a self-guided trolley history tour of downtown KC, and let me choose stickers to bring back for kids. I loved that she said, Feel free to say you don't want any of these. So librarian. 

Then she gave me a capsule history of the KCPL Central Branch -- which recently celebrated 20 years in this incredible building. The old Central Library was in terrible condition, and the bank building was empty, slated for demolition. A negotiation began... and the KCPL got the bank building, with a lot of stipulations about how the exterior and the space could not be changed. She told me about the library's main features, including, "As a librarian, you probably have an interest in the children's area?". They have an "adults with kids only" policy, and suggested I introduce myself as a visiting librarian when I'm up there.

One-hour parking is free with library validation, but she said one hour is not nearly enough, and validated us for the whole day. She said we can go off and see whatever we want in the downtown, our parking is covered until 10 pm. 

I found Allan drooling over some huge Bob Dylan book. And there we were thinking he was in the adult nonfiction section! Nope, just the popular, first-floor collection. From there, we went on a tour. We saw:

* A main floor with a soaring 35-foot-high ceiling, a very decent-sized adult fiction and nonfiction section, a media centre with public-access computers and tablets, a beautiful café, an art gallery, the "chairman's office," (a gorgeous, old-fashioned space left intact from when it was a bank), and all kinds of fun stuff, like a "propagation station," where customers can grow indoor plants;

* The vault -- the bank's vault -- which has been converted into a movie theatre, using a grant from AMC, whose founder was from Kansas City. I'm talking a beautiful, spacious, plush 30-seat movie theatre, where free movies are shown, along with the DVDs, the film-related collection, and a Zine-making station for customers;

* One floor with a huge, beautiful auditorium for rentals or public meetings, currently with an enormous, multi-wall display of how a Black neighbourhood organized to fight being destroyed by a highway -- a powerful grassroots organizing story, hidden history.

* That floor houses a huge, beautiful, special collection of Kansas City and Missouri history. It was so spacious, they could house a huge collection and never need to weed. There was information about every aspect of Kansas City, Missouri, Midwest, and Western-expansion history you can think of, from the most traditional to the most radical, plus genealogy, and a whole separate collection available by request (not browsing) for research. 

Here, Allan found the Negro Leagues Baseball collection that should have been in the museum gift shop.

* A floor with an adult fiction and nonfiction collection that stretches for two entire city blocks. It just keeps going and going. The baseball section alone was larger than the nonfiction collection in one of my libraries. (I was so sad that they didn't have either of Allan's books. It seemed like they were the only baseball books not there. Seriously, that is heartbreaking.) 

* That floor also has a reading room with large, spacious tables with lamps and outlets, and study rooms for public use -- and more 35-foot, soaring ceilings, and tons of natural light. It is an absolutely beautiful space.

* Another art gallery, with (among other things) paintings by Degas and John Singer Sargent.

* A children's floor with enormous spaces for storytimes and other programs (which will often draw 75 or more people), and a separate teen area about the size of the Port Hardy Library, with computers, makerspaces, a sink and fridge. The biography section for kids and teens was the size of Port Hardy's entire picture-book collection.

I had a great talk with the children's library manager, who gave me a building-wide scavenger hunt, which they turned into a colouring book, a history of the librayr system, and more information about the trolley tour, which she and another librarian created. 

We gabbed and gabbed about libraries. She said visiting librarians, and everyone at library conferences, is always jealous of KCPL and her enormous budget and staff. She has three full-time professional librarians and three other library workers -- and that's just for children and teens. (Her office used to be a closet; the walls were covered with fun stuff. She apologized for her office, which of course made me laugh-sob, because I don't have an office.)

She told me that originally, the library board didn't want children in the library! They were going to turn the vault -- a basement with no windows -- into the children's area. Librarians and parents advocated and they won an entire floor.

There was another librarian there, too, and they both loved that I serve remote communities in Canada. (It seems I have finally shed my imposter syndrome.)

* An aside: I'm pretty sure we were being discreetly trailed by a security guard the entire time we were in the building, a man wearing khakis and a white polo shirt, with a walkie-talkie. I saw him speaking with a young woman dressed the same way, just walking around. 

The transit

We somehow managed to drag ourselves out of the library, both of us blown away. I took out the map of the self-guided history tour, which is meant to be experienced by trolley, but couldn't find any information about fares and how to pay. So I googled it, and was blown away all over again: it's free. Free transit in the downtown core. 

And there it was: a clean, spacious, quiet, wheelchair-accessible trolley. Arriving every 10-12 minutes. Fare-free. Oh. My. God.

The Kauffman Center, Union Station, and some other downtown sites

We got off the trolley at the Kauffman Center, which is akin to New York's Lincoln Center. It's an enormous performing arts complex, and reading about it online, it sounds like a truly world-class centre. The building, however, is a monstrosity. It was designed by famed Canadian architect and urban planner Moshe Safdie. I'm sure it's one of those love-it-or-hate-it buildings. 

Back on the trolley, we went to Union Station, another restored space that was slated for demolition -- apparently several times. It's a beautiful, old train station with a big vaulted ceiling and Victorian-era chandeliers, now home to upscale dining, some exhibit space, and retail, along with Amtrak and suburban transit lines. From there, you can see the enormous and hideous National WWI Museum and Memorial, which looks like a gigantic smokestack, dominating a hill, visible from practically everywhere. 

One of our hosts and their dogs

We took the trolley back to our car, had some trouble getting out of the parking garage, but eventually made it, with help from a friendly employee.

Back at the house, we ran into one half of the Airbnb host couple, Justin and Aaron, and their two dogs. After we parked, we jumped out of the car to say hi, and say, "Dogs, dogs, we want to say hi to the dogs!" Dolly and Liza came bounding out, Justin apologizing for their jumping. The dogs were so sweet, and we (mostly Allan) played with them while we (mostly I) spoke with Justin, about their lovely space and the great surprise of Kansas City. 

Justin said, "Kansas City is a hidden gem. People are always surprised, they think it's a cowtown and are amazed at how vibrant it is." He said KC will host six games of the next World Cup. (I didn't remember the Super Bowl, but did remember Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce.) 

He told us more about the barbecue scene, which Allan has researched, and their house. I had suspected they did all the reno of the basement Airbnb space themselves, and I was right. (They had to dig more of a foundation to make the ceilings taller -- that's why the floors are uneven.)

I asked if there was barbecue in Tulsa, and he said dismissively, "Probably, I guess. But not as good," sounding more like a New Yorker than I do these days. Then backpedaled to be less mean to Tulsa, also like I would have done about some other, non-New York place. Sweet.

I heard the lamb ribs call my name

On the downtown trolley, we decided to go back to Jack Strap for dinner. Allan wanted to try a different place, but no one else has lamb ribs on the menu, and I had to have them again. Justin told us the carrot cake is fabulous -- they apparently lived on it, takeout, during covid -- but there is just no way to eat dessert at that place. The food is so good, and there is so much of it, plus we were drinking.

Today we drive to Tulsa and have a guided walking tour!

states, provinces, and countries i have visited (updated/corrected)

Canadian and other non-US readers might not realize that Kansas City is in the state of Missouri. There is also a small, less famous Kansas City in Kansas, just over the other side of the Missouri River. Two cities with the same name, in two different states.

Previous to this trip, I had never been in Missouri, and I have never been in Kansas or Oklahoma, so I'm checking off three states.

I've always wanted to visit all 50 US states and all 10 Canadian provinces -- but in vague way, never something that guided my choices. I've simply planned trips when and as we could afford them. I'm not into the "bucket list". There's just a looooong list of places I want to go, and I just do what I can. 

I'm now mentally letting go of the every-state goal. For example, we've never been to Texas. There has long been a great music scene in Austin, and we now have family there, a cousin of Allan's. And there are two Major League Baseball teams in Texas. But given time, money, dog-care, and climate-change, it is unlikely we will ever plan a trip to Texas -- although not impossible.

At the end of this trip, this is the list of US states I have not been in. Driving through counts, sitting in an airport does not.

Arkansas

Hawaii

Idaho

Kentucky

Montana

North Dakota

Texas

West Virginia 

When I see how short that list is, it makes me want to plan more US travel! But I don't want a checklist to determine our precious travel time.

In Canada, I have not been to PEI, or any of the territories. Moving from Ontario to BC by car really helped this list! My experience in Nova Scotia was brief and unsatisfying -- I attended a union conference in Halifax, and had almost no time outside of a hotel -- but it was three days, so it counts. We spent three weeks in Newfoundland in 2007, and I visited the Bay of Fundy, in New Brunswick, as a child on a trip with my parents.

The list of countries (besides US and Canada) that I have visited is either very long or very short, depending on how well-traveled you are. I have colleagues who have never been outside of Canada or even the province. And I have friends, family, and colleagues who have traveled all over the world, way more extensively than I have. 

It's the same in my own mind. I cherish all the travel I've done, and wherever we went, we traveled widely, for at least a few weeks. And at the same time, this is a fraction of all the places I'd like to go. Both at the same time. Such is life. Countries I have been in:

Bermuda

Belgium

Egypt

England (several times)

France (several times)

Ireland

Italy (twice)

Jordan

Mexico (all over, not resort travel)

Peru

Spain

Switzerland

Wales

I'd like to see Cambodia, Greece, and Türkiye on this list, but given my age, finances, and priorities (such as not spending our retirement years in poverty), I'm fairly certain that won't happen. Although not completely ruling it out.

day 6: kansas city: the negro leagues baseball museum is great but has problems

Yesterday we took our time in the morning, then headed back out to the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum, housed in the same building as the American Jazz Museum. 

What was lost and why

Both jazz and Black baseball have some roots in Kansas City, along with many other US cities. Both museums, plus a display in the atrium between the two, emphasize that this neighbourhood -- called "18th & Vine" -- was the centre of a thriving Black community that, in a sense, was destroyed by integration, or at least de-segregation. That is certainly the story of the Negro Leagues, the Black press, and many other Black American institutions. It was the sad, ironic price of the successes of the civil rights movement.

To me, it sometimes seems like the nostalgia for those vibrant days doesn't adequately emphasize why these parallel Black institutions existed: because Black people were not allowed to participate in mainstream American life, and the penalty for attempting to do so -- for defying Jim Crow -- were severe, often fatal, and routinely visited on the entire Black community. No story provides stronger evidence of that than that of our next stop, Tulsa.

I can understand the nostalgia, especially considering how historically Black communities were neglected after de-segregation, with crappy schools and an almost total lack of services. And as a writer, I know that it's never easy to balance a story with "this, but that, too". Here at 18th & Vine, I feel there is too much "this" (it was beautiful then) and not enough "that" (it was unjust, and dangerous, and scary, and hideous).

The Negro Leagues Baseball Museum does a better job of that, since the sole reason for the Leagues' existence was racism. There is a good walk-through what the Negro Leagues were, why and how they developed, who the stars were, who organized and funded the teams, what conditions were like, and so on. But still, it begins with a short overview film (narrated by James Earl Jones), which concludes with something like "then Jackie Robinson made it and everything was grand". Even two more sentences of how long it took to actually integrate, how Black players were shut out of coach and manager positions, or the prejudice they faced in the earlier years, would have helped. You could write that and still end on a hopeful note of steady progress.

Negro Leagues Baseball Museum

The museum itself? Meh. In several places, glass display cases were blocking printed information, many objects on display were not identified at all, information was in the wrong chronological order, terms were not explained. It wasn't a total mess like the Egyptian museum in Cairo, but there were several instances of these missteps. People do love this museum, and I think most people wouldn't notice these things, but a professional organization shouldn't make these errors.

Socialism, feminism, and unionism -- or not

One excellent piece was an entire display, including an excellent short film, highlighting the work of Lester Rodney. Rodney was a sportswriter for the socialist newspaper The Daily Worker. Rodney made the fight to integrate baseball his fight, both in his writing and by organizing. Day after day, year after year, he called out baseball's racism, using many different tools, including pickets and petitions. At one point, he delivered more than 1.5 million signatures of fans to Kenesaw Mountain Landis, the racist commissioner of baseball who (along with racist team owners) was responsible for the ban on Black players continuing as long as it did. Rodney was a hero of the civil rights movement, and he was a socialist. Allan and I were both so happy to see him highlighted. 

There was a section on Black women in baseball, which was great. But did it have to be titled "The Beauty of the Game"?? I was horrified. 

While I'm complaining, would it kill historians to occasionally note the importance of trade unionism in these fights? In the early NLBM displays, there is a general timeline running parallel to the baseball information, to give the viewer a sense of what was happening in the larger country and civil rights movement, concurrent with the Negro Leagues. I was very pleased to see A. Philip Randolph and the Sleeping Car Porters there. But why not identify the first succesful Black-led labour union, or idntify Randolph as a union leader, or even use the word union at all? 

Connie Morgan, a Black, female ballplayer I had never heard of, apparently worked for the AFL-CIO -- which I only learned in a sentence saying she retired from that organization. Was Morgan a labour activist? We don't know, since apparently we don't talk about unions. 

The film in the 18th & Vine exhibit also highlighted the success of Black teachers and waiters, without ever mentioning that thrived through being organized. It highlighted the roles of social clubs and churches in organizing pickets and boycotts, but not the role of Black trade unions.

Gift shops without books!

The NLBM carries only shirts, hoodies, and caps, with a sad, tiny section of books -- a few titles, some copies damaged. The American Jazz Museum did only slightly better, with a nice display of children's books. But considering all the books on jazz that are out there, it still sucked. 

Allan said that on his first-ever visit to the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York, the gift shop offered a huge section of books. He had no money and literally spent his last dollars on a SABR publication -- even that was there. On his next visit to Cooperstown, when we went together in 1989, there were almost no books. This is very sad. Unforgiveable.

Neither of us wanted anything from the NLBM gift shop. At the AJM gift shop, I bought a great pair of earrings, and a collection of Ralph Ellison's writing on jazz, and Allan found a set of three bookmarks featuring the art of Jean-Michel Basquiat. Allan loves Basquiat and collects art bookmarks from everywhere we travel, so that was perfect.

The carnivore's vacation

After the museum, we spent a long time driving around looking for a grocery store (even with Google Maps) to replenish our supplies, then went back to the apartment so I could rest. We were still deciding which barbecue restaurant to try, but it turned out many had closed for the day or would be closed by the time we got there. 

We ended up at Jack Stack, a local chain. The menu, service, and food were all amazing. I had a combination plate with lamb ribs (I had no idea that such a thing existed in barbecue!) and baby backs; Allan had a combo of burnt ends, sausage, and spare ribs. The beans were rich and molassesy, and slaw was light and tangy. Naturally, half my dinner is in the fridge right now, waiting for my breakfast. But even Allan has leftovers waiting for him, from both Stroud's and barbecue. We also each had a "KC Lemonade," made with lemonade, blackberries, and vodka, a treat for us these days.

When we didn't order dessert, Allan said something about my being tempted by crème brûlée -- and with our check, the server brought us a crème brûlée packaged to go, on the house. Super nice!

I have not yet stubbed a toe

The Airbnb is working better now that I've figured out some of the accessibility issues. We decided to keep our one-night reservation here later in the trip, rather than cancel and book a hotel. We'll probably re-pack so we can bring fewer things down the steep steps.

Today is our day in Kansas City without the jazz and baseball museums. We're planning on seeing some buildings downtown, including the famous library, eating more barbecue, and possibly hearing live music tonight. 

I don't care about art museums unless there's a collection or a specific work or artist I want to see -- in which case I care hugely -- and no city on this trip qualifies. We don't enjoy zoos or aquariums, because animals, and we don't care about science centres. That automatically rules out a lot of sightseeing. But we do enjoy architecture, and walking around cities, and I wanted to make sure we saw a litle of KC.

Also on my list: a drive into Kansas City, Kansas, making this trip three states I had never visited -- Missouri, Oklahoma, and Kansas -- rather than two.