Several years ago I had determined that there were several signs of Old Age that were indisputable. Things like having padded toilet seats, thermostats set at 78 degrees, and bus trips to Branson, Missouri. I had told the daughters, only partly in jest, that if we ever went to Branson they should just shoot us and put us out of our misery, that when that trip happened the end of meaningful life had passed on. We didn't tell anyone, especially the daughters, but Jim had made reservations at the Savannah Inn in Branson for three nights. To this day we are not sure why.
We checked in, put our suitcases in the room and went out for steak dinner.
After dinner we drove down the main street, slowly, taking in every hotel, restaurant, souvenir store, theater and busload of 'seniors.' We drove back to the hotel, spent the night and sped out of town the next morning. There was not one reason to spend any time there, according to our interests. Too many people in too small a space. Too many old people impersonating singing stars of the 50s and 60s. Too many stuffed Triggers. Brady lunch with Greg Brady; Sons of the Pioneers; Hughes Brothers; Roy Clark; The Texas Tenors, and on and on, and of course, what center of entertainment would be complete without the Dixie Stampede. Oh yes, I could hardly wait to drive away. We breathed a sigh of relief as we drove back into the Ozarks.
This is the lovely entrance to our hotel in Branson.
Our next stop was Fort Leonard Wood, the largest military base in the state. I like military bases. They are sprawling affairs, miles and miles of barracks and parade grounds, museums and varying levels of residential areas. One of my friends who lived there a time while her husband was in the service said the nickname for the place was Fort Lost-in-the-Woods.
Call me strange but I am fascinated by military installations.
This is a portable bridge.
Jim had a flashback at the grouping of World War II-era barracks (see photo). He chuckled when he realized that there were about half the number of bunk bed cots in the barracks museum that he remembered although he had a little room to himself right inside the door so I'm not sure what his complaint was. The barracks of the modern military look more like college dorms. Brick, multi-storied, without the common sleeping areas the buildings make a grand impression on the visitor.
Visitors are welcome. Drive around until 9PM after which you have to have military personnel with you. We didn't plan to stay that long. At the edge of the public areas we were stopped by a sign with read, "NO POV BEYOND THIS POINT." It took me a few minutes to figure out that the sign meant no personally owned vehicles. Which meant us. Beyond the sign and the very high, razor-covered fence we heard the sound of gunfire. Or thought we did. On a military base the imagination runs wild.
While we were there the fort newspaper noted that Dutchman's Liquidators and Daisy's Health Spa were off-limits for military personnel. Also, in the complaint section, was a note that parking was nearly impossible to procure at the base library for story-time. It's just like life anywhere in the country, I mused.
On the map an arrow pointed to the "Outdoor Adventure Center" which I'm sure gave many enlisted personnel pause.
Around the museum area are memorials to Ft. Leonard Wood soldiers who had died in battle from each of the branches of the service. Listed on bronze plaques the names seem to go on and on. At each memorial I walked slowly around stopping at each list of names and reading each one of them silently to myself. It seemed like the least I could do for a soldier who gave his life for the country. I thought about the family and friends each had left behind and who stilled grieved for them.
Fort Leonard Wood trains in the area of chemical, biological, radiological and nuclear warfare. Pretty bad stuff. Anyway, I always feel proud to be an American when I'm on a military base.
And so we left FLW...as I've affectionately come to refer to it. And that's what I think about it.
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