A
Two-Minute Digest of Branson, MO
“Travel
makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the
world.” Gustave Flaubert
So
there we were, driving at 5:30 in the morning to catch a tour bus at
the Ramada Limited for another one of our jaunts to Branson, Mo. A
line-up of seven shows awaited us, tastefully arranged by the travel
department of the North Dakota Farmers Union. Jeff, the bus driver
and tour director, and Diane, his capable, bubbly hostess met us.
Rolling along the I-94 corridor, our bus stopped at Steele,
Jamestown, Valley City and Fargo to pick up additional passengers.
Fifty-seven people filled the seats, including eight jolly widows
from Wishek who joined us at Steele, two lively ladies from Oslo at
Fargo, plus a wide assortment of folks just like us, all looking for
a few days of good entertainment, away from the incessant political
ads.
My
wife and I are veteran bus tour participants and, as we've learned,
to ride is to be filled with stories, such as “Three retirees, each
with a hearing loss, were playing golf one fine March day. One
remarked to the other, 'Windy, isn't it?' 'No,' the second man
replied, 'it's Thursday.' And the third man chimed in, 'So am I.
Let's have a beer.'”
Council
Bluffs, Iowa marked the first night on the road, and when we leave
the next morning, the hostess calls our attention to four 20 foot
statues on a bridge constructed from the junk remains of 9-11's Twin
Towers wreckage. Not attractive, but they made a powerful statement.
For
many miles I-29 parallels a line of unstable hills known as the
Loess. People who have built large houses on the lip of it can watch
dirt slides creeping close to them; some houses have even been
condemned and abandoned. We learned only one other geological
formation exists like it, in China.
About
4:00 on the second afternoon, we drove into Branson in time to eat
before taking in an evening show – 3 Redneck Tenors. As
their name implies, they were a hoot, but they could sing well. Next
morning we attended Twice Adopted, a singing group of ten
South American kids who'd been adopted by a childless couple from
Branson. Twice Adopted meant they also have been taken into the
Southern Baptist fold. Next up was Comedy Jamboree, Presley's
Country Jubilee, Cat's Pajama's, Pierce Arrow, and Haygoods.
Maybe
the most remarkable show was Cat's Pajamas. Six young men comprised
the whole cast. No instruments accompanied them, just facsimiles
thereof made with their voices, and they worked up a sweat. Many of
the shows include a hillbilly comedian.
Was it in the Comedy Jamboree where the comedian wore a t-shirt,
squatted down low, stretched the shirt over his bent knees and
started wiggling and bobbing them up and down? “Dolly Parton,”
he said.
Odds
and ends: In the RFD theater we saw Roy Rogers' Trigger, Dale Evans'
Buttermilk, and Bullet, the Wonder Dog, all stuffed, of course. ---
Somewhere we were asked what do you name a child if you cross a
Minnesotan with a Palestinian? Yassir Youbetcha. --- In one
theater, the usher's name tag proclaimed Melody Byrd. Is that your
real name? My folks named me Melody, and I married a Byrd. --- In
Osceola, MO an Amish man wearing a black hat rode by in his horse and
buggy. A black-hatted Amish does not want his picture taken. ---
Tornado damage from the past February 29th
storm is still evident in Branson.
Highways
nearing Branson pass through solid rock walls that have been
excavated with dynamite. Vertical drill holes in which explosives
were inserted and detonated. --- A man was driving frantically trying
to get his pregnant wife to the hospital in time. He had to pull
over and called the doctor who asked, “Is this her first child?”
“NO, it's her husband!” --- A gunslinger emptied his six shooter
at the feet of an old miner who came into town leading his mule after asking him "how'd you like to dance?". With his gun empty he turned his back to
the old man and started bragging to his friends. He heard the
two hammers of a shotgun click and turned to see a double-barrel 12 gauge
aimed at him. “Son,” the miner asked, “have you ever kissed a
mule's ass?” The gunslinger stuttered nervously, “N-n-no, but
I've always wanted to.”
On
Friday we departed to return home. Will we return? Well, yah. We
were informed that Farmers Union just received the contracts for
tickets to Daniel O'Donnell show next year. The wife wants to go, so
we cut a check while the bus was rolling and reserved a place. That
will make the fifth time we traveled to Branson, each time a great
time. Now we look forward to our bus tour in January, an eighteen
day trip to the Southwest.
Not
all was smooth as we returned. The snow and ice on Saturday created
some poor driving conditions and we were put up for the night at a
Jamestown motel. Arriving at the motel parking lot we found our cars
well coated with ice, something for which we spent a half-hour
warming the car enough to soften the ice to peel away.
