By Today’s Flyover People column as seen in The Emporia Gazette:
TANKS
In April, I took a few days off to visit my mother who lives near Hot Springs, Arkansas. On my way, driving through Fayetteville, I noticed a sign pointing to Prairie Grove Battlefield State Park.
Without a second thought, I veered onto the exit ramp. It was certainly worth a visit again after all of these years.
When any of us travel around this country, we pass through ZIP codes where we’ve been before. And, in any given place, like a magnet, we’ll pick up any memories that we left behind.
I was excited, because once I saw the Prairie Grove sign, I hatched a plan. When I got to the battlefield, I would photograph one of the park’s World War II army tanks (or an M40 carriage gun, whatever the case may be) and send it via cell phone to my brother in Alaska along with the text “Tanks!”
In my plan, Leon then would reply with the appropriate response: “You’re welcome.” And, since he was likely aware that I was in Arkansas, he would immediately realize that I was at Prairie Grove, a place we both enjoyed visiting as children.
Along the eight-mile route to Prairie Grove, I drove through Farmington, a small town which holds additional memories for me. Grandpa’s brother, Fred, and Fred’s wife, Gladys, lived here in the ‘60s.
My maternal grandparents and three of my grandfather’s siblings, although they had all been born and bred in Kansas, had, before I was born, moved to the Fayetteville area.
On childhood visits to Arkansas, my nuclear family along with my grandparents would make regular stops in Farmington to see Fred and Gladys. Their home was along the highway and on this recent trip, I looked for their house, but didn’t see it. Perhaps it had been removed when the highway was widened to four lanes.
In the ‘60s, their ranch-style home had a well-ordered living room where we would sit for the family conversation. We’d all catch up on who was where and who was doing what. I’d hear about their adult sons, Fred, Bob and Dick, relatives I’d never met up to that point. I knew them only from the framed photographs on the living room shelves.
Leon and I sat quietly and I’m sure restlessly, waiting for the conversation to fade into “It was nice to see you again.”
A good deal of time for my brother and me on these Arkansas trips involved either behaving in the homes of relatives, or behaving in the car. As is the case with most kids, sitting still and getting along with a sibling went against our nature.
Although my family had always been one to drive around and look at scenery, as a kid I became bored on those Arkansas daytrips. While the adults were sufficiently amused by looking at trees and wildflowers, I wanted to get out and do something. Intrigued by the colorful billboards, I would have welcomed a stop at Dogpatch, an amusement park with a Li’l Abner theme.
We did get a chance to play at Prairie Grove Battlefield and it was probably after those visits in Farmington that we stopped at the park. There, Leon and I were able to run and shout and climb on the army tanks, which, to the imagination of a 4-year-old seemed more like pirate ships than war machines.
We have family photos of Leon and me, as little kids, neither of us much bigger than a haiku, standing in front of these massive military sculptures. And those tanks got us started on an endless series of “tanks/your welcome” jokes, of which we never tired.
Historically speaking, Prairie Grove is a Civil War battlefield. On Dec. 7, 1862, about 2,700 soldiers were killed or injured here. And, at some point during the past 40 years, the scene has been returned to a more Civil War-appropriate setting.
In other words, on this recent visit, I couldn’t find the World War II tanks. I was very disappointed that I couldn’t see them, or touch those tangible childhood memories, or send a photo of them to my brother.
Perhaps we romance certain things in our minds, turn them into something more than they were. I remember the tanks with such fondness, and I’m sure that’s because it was a happy family time, an opportunity for outdoor play with my brother, and the beginning of a running family joke.
I guess all I can say at this point is, “Tanks for the memories.”
Copyright 2011 ~ Cheryl Unruh
You’re welcome!
Yay, Carl, you know how to play the game! Tanks!
Another great out-of-Kansas column, Cheryl. These are rare.
Wow, Cheryl, I like this a lot. And there’s such a dichotomy between what those tanks from the past were used for, and children playing, running and laughing around them. A thing a soldier sat, sweated and perhaps killed with, and a few years later children laughing and many years later the fond memories.
I see nothing inappropriate there, just such an evolution WWII tanks went through from a war machine to a child’s toy. When Larry was a kid, maybe about 12 years old or so, he used to play on and IN the tank in Emporia. It sat someplace other than where it is now. But he played and has such fond memories of it. Back then they could open it on top and go inside. The periscopes were still there back then.
And he speaks like you do about it, with fondness and warmth.
I’ve written about these too, and I think what is missing in my attempt is the voice of the old soldier who once loaded and fired these ground-shaking guns. I’ve tried to put myself in his boots as he might have watched us play, but my imagination fails. Would he have seen us children playing as a victory for humanity, or as a terrible irony considering how many lives the guns took, or is there something else? When he was 19, did he also find beauty in the shape and workings of the big green machine and take joy in clambering over it? Where are the tanks in his memories? When I was a kid, I didn’t think to ask, and now it may be too late. Cheryl, this was nicely written, with spot-on descriptions (haiku, waiting to leave, Dogpatch) of other things as well.
Road trips are so much more fun when you have some control over when and where the car stops. 🙂 Thanks for pointing out the Prairie Grove Battlefield! It isn’t one I was familiar with. My husband and I will have to make the trip.
Wonderful descriptions Cheryl. Love the haiku phrase.
Great column, Cheryl! Laughed at your description of sitting in the living room at Fred and Gladys’ house. I can only imagine. Our kids have similar memories and also numerous drives thru the countryside. I don’t know why our paths never crossed back then and really didn’t meet you until later when we had Jepson reunions. Thanks for sharing your memories!
Nice piece, Cheryl! I remember those fine old tanks from childhood as well. I was born and raised in Fayetteville and we would visit the park often. I think it was 1974, and I was 6 or so, the last time I was there, but memories of afternoons spent on and *in* (boy, those were the days!) those machines have endured… I wonder if my parents ever took any picures… I think one of them was a M46 Patton. I’m dissapointed they are gone too. I hope they found thier way to a nice museum.