Cheyenne

We went to South Dakota for the weekend to see Mount Rushmore and do generally touristy things. On the way, we stopped in Cheyenne for Dinner.

Cheyenne used to be an almost magical place for me. I had all sorts of Aunts, Uncles, cousins in Cheyenne. We didn’t really do road trips or vacations when I was growing up. On many occasions, however, we would (when I was much younger) pile six of us in the cab of Dad’s pick-up truck and drive to Cheyenne. (we had bigger cars, later.) Waiting for us up there was family, fun, laughter, love.

I have memories of Frontier Days; of pinball in the arcade, treats on the carnival grounds with Andrea, rodeos, horses, Native American Dancers, Uncle Casey in a wild horse race, my brother riding a bull, a Johnny Cash concert with Grandma Stephens.

I have memories of the house on Fifth Street; digging canals in the sandbox and flooding it over and over again, popsicle stick boat races in a tractor tire, hiding in the basement, melting wax on the drier, many games of hide-from-cars and hide-and-seek. Grandma’s house had a special soft blanket that I would wake up snuggled under when I fell asleep on the couch, a pool table and a shower in the basement, a dog named Muffin (because she looked like the blueberry muffins that Grandma made that morning). You know that musty cinder block smell? I love that smell…it reminds me of Grandma’s basement.

Christmas brought hay rides, tons of food, games, music and laughter above all. One year, Uncle Leroy decided that wrapping paper was wasteful, so everyone wrapped gifts in newspaper and garbage bags. We had so much, even without the gifts.

Sometimes we would gather at the park and have a celebration, of birthdays or Christmas or anything. Everyone would bring something to eat and we would talk and laugh and run and play and catch up.

Mom and Dad would take us on trips of their own through Cheyenne. We saw where they grew up, where they went to high school, where the A&W was where they used to work, where Grandma and Granddad Keiper used to run Mom’s Diner, long since gone. I’ve attended church in the church where they got married, more than more that 63 years ago.

I was a little melancholy at dinner on the way to South Dakota. Most, if not all, of my family from Cheyenne has moved on in one way or another. Cheyenne felt like, well, just another city.

I know. The magic is in the memories, not the city itself. Being in Cheyenne just brought it all back, and made me think of how much I miss those that have gone. But, we had so much. We have so much. I am thankful for the memories of Aunt Joan’s laughter, Uncle Leroy’s way of seeing things. Grandma’s ability to sit and watch, and say just the right thing at just the right time. I am thankful to have grown up with my cousins, thankful for family, thankful for happy memories.

After dinner, my husband and son and I went on to South Dakota. And made memories. Hopefully, good ones.