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The Impostor’s Daughter: A True Memoir by Laurie Sandell

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I spent almost the entire day today reading this book–I was totally enthralled and could not put it down!



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As I told you recently, the Kibbe Museum in my hometown of Carthage, Ill., once seemed like the product of a dark imagination back when I was a kid.

But then, at some point in the late 90s or earl 00s, (I believe), the museum moved to the old city hall building in Carthage. So now, not only is in a one-story building conveniently located across the street from the historic Carthage Jail, but it’s also bright and open  and easy to navigate, with all kinds of interesting displays, (including one about church history that I couldn’t help but pore over, since it contained a stained glass window and other items from the church where I grew up,  one of the oldest structures in the county). I’ve been meaning to write about this museum visit for months, but I keep getting sidetracked…sigh. So for now, here’s a link to the Kibbe blog. I was going to tell you all about how, with its displays on Carthage College, the Mormon Temple, etc., it’s now more of a history-of-the-area museum than a random-collection-of-strangeness.

However.

Yesterday, I learned from my hometown paper, The Hancock County Journal-Pilot, that the museum has recently acquired materials from the History of Funeral Customs in Springfield.

This caught my eye not because of the somewhat strange subject matter, but because I recognized the name of this museum from having read about it in a book called Assassination Vacation. In other words, the contents of a museum that caught the attention of one of my all-time favorite contemporary writers, Sarah Vowell (who also happens to be known for her distinctive voice), have been moved to my tiny hometown, of all places.

Wow.

Anyway, I’ve been wanting for a long time to write a post about how, as Chris and I and two friends toured last fall, Chris went from “why are you dragging me to this place” to “hey, can I have the car keys? I want to go get my camera out of the trunk.”

Here are some of his shots, from the museum’s displays on

• medical history,
• a faux general-store complete with checker-game in progress, and
• old-fashioned offices and mail delivery:

(You can see more of Chris’s photos from our photography adventures on his Flickr page.)

I’m sorry to say I’m never going to get around to that post I’ve been meaning to write about the Kibbe’s other intriguing elements–including the influx of Mormon visitors from all over the world. But if you’re from the area and, like me, become more aware of its rich history as you get older–or you’re new and looking for something to do– you should check out this lovingly curated, interesting conglomeration of stuff. Find hours and directions here.

If you’ve already been to the most recent incarnation of the Kibbe, please share your memories, thoughts, impressions below!

Leave the Building Quickly: True Stories by Cynthia Kaplan

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I was so excited when I learned that Cynthia Kaplan had another book out—I received her first collection, "Why I’m Like This," as a gift a couple of years ago and absolutely loved it. So the fact that I didn’t love this one as much might not be a reflection on this collection itself, but just that the first one was so great, anything else might pale in comparison. I did feel like there were a couple of essays in this one that fell a bit flat. But I really loved (and related to) the essay about how she tried to convince her grandmother (struggling with dementia) to use an American Express card, and the one about her relationship with her older brother. Overall, it just didn’t "zing" for me the way the first collection did, but I still love her voice and the mixture of reflective thoughtfulness and humor.



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The Best American Short Stories 2007 by Stephen King

All I’ve read so far is the one by Anne Beattie, and I loved it. I’ve been boycotting short stories for the last couple of years. But this one was a great reward for coming back to them.

P.S. So what if it’s a “vintage”? (I’ll probably get this year’s version in, like, 2015.)

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I was brought up to believe in sending thank-you notes (unlike certain friends of mine who recently got married, apparently. Ahem. Did you or did you not enjoy that toaster? I guess I will never know.) Anyway, THANKS to all the comments you left when I put the call out to see if anyone is reading.

Thumbs up to my homies!

Feel free to imagine me singing a gratitude-themed song in the style of [pick Lilith-Fair-type below] :

• Alanis Morissette
• Dido
• Natalie Merchant

OR, feel free to block all those songs from your head for infinity; I wouldn’t blame you. (Though, okay, I kinda like the Alanis one sometimes. But I’m still really a fan of Jagged Little Pill era and not beyond. You?)

Please forgive me if this comes off as navel-gazing, but: if you’re someone who reads this blog, would you be up for letting me know? Either leave a comment below (you will have to register) or drop me a line at alison dot sixdegrees at gmail dot com? Pretty please?

I know I have a handful of faithful readers, and WHOOO HOOO BIG UPS TO YOU! YOU ROCK!

But also: I can’t figure out how to read my Google Analytics. Besides that, I would like to hear from actual people, rather than a stat tracker that tells me weird random things that aren’t relevant to the blog itself.*

If you’re someone who reads but doesn’t want or feel compelled to leave comments, hey, I’m glad you’re here at all! And I understand that there are lots more important and interesting ways to spend your time online.

But sometimes I go weeks at a time without comments. Sniffle. (More after the jump).

istockphoto's image of a sad-sack-y, lonely girl

I often wonder if I should scrap the blog and just stick to Fb and Flickr-ing and Tweeting. (Um yeah. I do have a life off the computer. Sort of.) So I want to know if you read this blog, how you got here, and what you’re interested in/ what you’d like more of. Go ‘head! Leave me your actual name and a real comment below, or, if you want to be anonymous, just write “NOD!” as your comment. Or just do a Facebook Like (below). C’mon, I’m waiting. (And by the way: thanks!!)

*Although, I gotta say, that time I got a Google hit for SEXY OLD LADIES THAT ARE MORE THAN A MOUTHFUL, (because I am obsessed with rural legends about seeing cougars in western Illinois), I laughed and snorted so hard I almost damaged something.

For Sale: Flamingo Bowl in Blandinsville, IL

Originally uploaded by Rural Rose

any takers?

One of the windows in my car was all messed up–when I tried to roll it up or down, the glass came out at angle and got stuck all cockeyed . So I took it to a place someone recommended to me, George’s, in Macomb. It turned out the place is still a neighborhood shop, located at the back of a house on MacArthur Street.

When I got there early one morning when it was still somewhat warm, I was greeted by a big guy who had a long-ish gray beard and who happened to be wearing bib overalls with no shirt underneath.

But despite his burly appearance, the guy–not the original George, apparently, but his son–drove me to work and was happy to answer all my chatty questions. He told me about his hobby of restoring old cars. He told me his father started the business in Macomb more than 50 years ago, and his brother works there, too, doing air conditioning repair, which gives them enough business to stay afloat.

I wanted to ask the seemingly gentle-giant guy  if I could take his picture, but, for some reason, as nice as he was, I chickened out. So at least here’s a pic of the sign, instead.

If you live in Macomb, you’ve probably by now received the new Righteously Huge Recycling Receptacle to put on the curb.

In theory, this is something that should make me happy. Ever since the city voted to have matching Behemoth Buckets and small recycling receptacles delivered to each house a couple of years ago, I’ll admit I’ve had this thought: doesn’t it send a subliminal message if your landfill-bound bucket is twice the size of the one that lets you be environmentally friendly ? I mean, I’m enough of a tree-hugging type to feel physical pain when a certain friend of mine throws our empty beer bottles in the regular trash (saying it’s “cheaper to not recycle,” which still makes no sense to me and which I am still mad at her about. Ahem.)

So I do actually like the idea of the new Righteously Huge Recycling Receptacles being delivered to everybody in Macomb. (You can get more of the trash-y details, ha ha, in the story from the McDonough County Voice.)

But there’s just one thing: now that we’ve got more capacity to store our plastic 1s and 2s, they’re only gonna pick up the recycling once every two weeks. Meaning I have to remember, on trash days, whether it’s its a Yes week or a No week to haul the Righteously Huge Recycling Receptacle to the curb.

doggone it, it's trash day

For most people, this is probably a non-issue.

For people like me, however—people who struggle endlessly with things like finding the other damn sock—this is not a happy announcement.

The company that picks up Macomb’s trash, to its credit, did send out a calendar that’s supposed to help me remember which day is recycling-pick-up day. A calendar which I promptly tossed into my recycling bucket. Why?

Recently, I’ve embarked on a journey: an attempt to slowly but surely improve my living space, to de-clutter, and, well, to not end up on Hoarders. As part of this de-cluttering process, I’m trying to allow as little paper to cross the threshold of my front door as possible. (BY THE WAY, CITY OF MACOMB AND TRASH CO., EVER HEARD OF E-MAIL? JUST WONDERING. THANKS.)

Since my brain will likely be occupied with other things, and never able to remember which week it is—Recycle Yay? or Recycle Nay?—I suspect I will be employing this plan along with many other Macombians: “Let’s see [craning neck toward neighbor's house], Bob’s got his yellow-topped one out… He’s a stand-up guy. I’m sure he kept his calendar. [Decides to schlep recycling bucket to curb].”

It will be follow the leader on the curbs across Macomb.

Who can tell me anything about this sad cafe—which is apparently now home to a salvage yard and a rather…um, interesting used car business—along Highway 136 between Macomb and Carthage?

I’ve driven past it for years and finally stopped to take a picture on Labor Day Weekend. I was greeted by the property owner who, when I asked how long the cafe had been closed, said, “…’bout 10 years.” I beg to differ, however.

What’s the real story of the Midway Cafe?

You can see more of my photos of local stuff here.