Today was another day of mostly driving. We made it through Illinois, Minnesota, and Iowa. I’m glad I didn’t ask Hubs how much of our trip would be just driving. Knowing less can be a blessing. Kind of like labor with our first child. The less I knew, the less fearful I was. This is not to say driving out west should provoke fear, but there is bliss in ignorance, don’t you think?

We stopped for lunch in Minnesota at a place called Culver’s. It’s a fast-food sort of place with burgers, chicken, salads, and more. The mascot*? (what do you call those branding symbols?) was an ice cream cone named Scoopie. The food was just what we needed, with juicy hamburgers. I had a nice salad with cashews.

But what has struck me more than the food quality so far has been the people. We have been served entirely by individuals in their 50s and 60s.

At Quaker Steak and Lube in Vermilion, Ohio, Mucho Mas in Michigan City, Indiana, Culver’s in Minnesota, and 1015 Steak Company in Sibley, Iowa, the serving staff has been a generation ahead of our own. These folks have been kind, patient, friendly, and, well, a bit older than I expected.

Where are all the young people? What sort of jobs do they have? Several of the folks offering their services look as if they could be retired, spending their time not on their feet, but doing something entirely different.

It’s clearly not a bad thing, but this observation has surprised me.

To our delight, these folks know pretty much everything. They’ve guided our ordering, asked questions about the children, offered pleasant small talk, and sweet little tips for our travels.

“Don’t forget about Crazy Horse!”

“Check out the fireworks tonight one town over!”

“If you complete this online survey, your kiddos get a free custard!”

To say it’s been a delight would be an understatement. Hubs is one of those people who loves small talk and has gotten his fill from several states already, with more to come. When we ordered our tacos and burritos in Michigan City, Hubs was regaled with information about some woman’s upcoming wedding schedule: 3 coming up this year, one in Chicago, and another near Michigan City, where she and her husband own a summer cottage. Her son is a doctor, married to a newly appointed opthamologist. All parties discussed seem to be very happy.

Dinner tonight was in a town called Sibley, Iowa. The town had the following amenities:

• post office
• library
• gas station
• school
• church
• one restaurant: 1015 Steak Company

In this town, I was struck by the lack of consumer retail shops. No boutiques. No silly souvenir shops. No Barnes and Noble full of toys and trinkets and random things a person wouldn’t think to need until seeing it up on a shelf.

After my year of the “No Buy Challenge” and all my reading about conspicuous consumption, the consumer nation, and how capitalist corporations are killing the American dream, it was a change to find a town seemingly lacking in such things. I realize everyone still has things like Amazon and Walmart and online purchasing, etc, but it felt nice to walk through a town selling only the simplest needs.

When I asked our server, Denise, how many people resided in Sibley, she said about 2,300. A quick Gemini search suggested it may be closer to 2,700. When I asked how she liked living in a small town, she was quick to correct me.

“I don’t live here. Too many people. I live a town over. And we have–” she paused and made a face, counting in her mind, “11 other people in my town.”

“What do you like about that?” I asked.

“I like knowing everyone in my town,” she said, “and I like that our families have grown up together. We look out for each other, and we take care of each other. When someone needs something, we all show up.”

It sounded very nice, though I can’t say 11 people would be enough for a social butterfly like Hubs. He loves knowing as many families as he can, collecting friends and their stories like shiny pennies.

Tonight’s hotel, AmericInn in Sibley, was excessively clean and nice, with a pool for the kids to enjoy after a long day stuck in the car.

As it turned out, Melvin, Iowa did have a fireworks show going on tonight. It started around 10 p.m. and delighted everyone, especially our kids, who kept pretending they were the ones lighting them by sending arrows of fire toward the fireworks, igniting them with some kind of Viking imagination vibes I can’t explain, nor need to.

Tomorrow, we’ll land in our first campground. I can’t wait for some hiking. That’s all I’m praying for. Time to move and climb and find the views Hubs has been hanging in front of my face like the carrot in front of a hungry horse.

Our moment of peace came in the form of a beautiful sunset, which was so exceptionally visible from across the plains. There are not many trees or hills to disturb the views, another thing for which we are grateful.

Goodnight from the midwest!

Share the peace!