The kind of roads I enjoy when I'm not in a hurry.I’ve traveled in some forty countries of the world, so I think I’m safe in saying that America’s interstate highway system is one of the best in the world—if not the best. Nevertheless, as Bernie and I have crisscrossed the United States while visiting supporting churches on this home assignment, we have chosen to get off the expressways as often as possible. One doesn’t drive state and county roads for speed, but for taste-testing America to discover who she really is. Since we’ve lived in Japan for nearly thirty years, we enjoy these treks on lesser highways. They are opportunities to reconnect with the heart of our homeland. The discoveries we make are sometimes amusing.
Take our stop in Great Bend, Kansas. It was still early, so we decided to go exploring after supper at an Arby’s. Not knowing the area, however, we asked the teenager working behind the counter, “What’s there to do in Great Bend?” She looked at us with a blank expression on her face. “I dunno,” she finally responded without enthusiasm. Then her face brightened slightly as she added, “Well, there’s Wal-Mart.”
Ah yes, Wal-Mart! How much more “American” can you get with most products made in China and sold so cheaply that many people complain this corporation is killing small town U.S.A. Despite this, we did indeed drop in at the Wal-Mart in Great Bend. Not much else was open. It seemed that this was the hang-out for the town’s dyed and spiked-haired youth, most of whom sported multiple tattoos of varying designs. I felt like a sightseeing foreigner even though I was in my own country.
Then there was an even smaller Kansas town we visited. Palco boasted one traffic light and a dying downtown that, even in its heyday, couldn’t have had more than five or six stores. We ate in the Palco Café, the only place to go out to eat in this western Kansas town. Even then, you hope everyone doesn’t decide to show up at the same time since there are less than a handful of tables in the kitchen-sized restaurant.
Looking for the “Today’s Special” menu posted on the wall, I noticed an interesting notation: Milkshakes available Tuesday and Thursday. First of all, it was Saturday, so the ice cream lover in me was very disappointed. But I just had to know why milkshakes were offered only two days a week. The waitress answered matter-of-factly, smiling at my question. “Mary works on Tuedays and Thursdays,” she told me, “and she’s the only one who knows how to use the milkshake machine.” Now it was my turn to smile.
In fact, even today a smile lights my face whenever I think of Palco and small town America. I’ll have to escape there in my mind the next time I’m jam-packed on a commuter train in Tokyo.
