Let’s Go For a Drive

Let’s Go For a Drive By Mark Leitheiser

It’s funny how things can take you to another time and place. Planes, trains and automobiles come to mind, of course. But I am referring to a different type of travel-the kind that takes you to Memory Lane, that beautiful dreamspace that connects each of us to our childhood experiences.

I was reminded of this type of travel recently when Sweetums and I were up north and decided to visit the Tamarac National Wildlife Refuge. Tamarac, which serves as a breeding ground and sanctuary for migratory birds and other wildlife, was established by Congress back in 1938. Tamarac is one of 565 units in the National Wildlife Refuge System, which is the most diverse collection of wildlife habitats and wildlands in the world.

According to information provided by the Visitors’ Center, Tamarac is located smack in the middle of one of the most diverse vegetative zones in North America where tallgrass prairie, northern hardwood and boreal forests collide to provide an extraordinary diversity of plant and wildlife species. Its sprawling hardwood forests and plentiful water create a natural home for wildlife. Hoping to see a bald eagle? How about watching trumpeter swans trolling across the mirror surface of a small slough? You’ve come to the right place.

This uncommon landscape was carved out about ten thousand years ago when glaciers scooped depressions and pressed ridges into the land. Today, thanks to a dedicated staff of volunteers and a hardworking forestry staff, Tamarac continues to provide the public with an untamed, natural wildlife experience which Sweetums and I frequently enjoy.

On our recent visit, Sweetums and I spent a few minutes at the Visitors’ Center before pushing into the forests on scant trails in search of historical cabins and a peaceful communion with nature. We weren’t disappointed. Rolling hills, covered by a thick canopy of deciduous leaves demanded our silence as we felt nature’s embrace. In a world filled with the disturbing wound of endless noise, Tamarac provides a natural balm of tranquil silence.

As a native of the area, it was only natural that I bravely led Sweetums deep into the heart of the forest. I could feel my inner hairy man emerging with every step. Which turned out to be a lot of steps because after finding and admiring the historical cabins, and venturing deeper into the woods, we became . . . well . . . lost. Not completely lost, mind you but just a bit confused as to which trail to follow at a remote junction. That’s right; with trails and signs, I still got lost.

Eventually, with Sweetums’s encouragement and clear guidance, we were able to retrace our trail to find civilization again. Next time, I’ll just sit in the parking lot and read a book.

In spite of my occasional misstep, that drive into Tamarac was much more than just another visit. It was a drive into my past. Like many of you, I grew up relatively poor. Not dirt poor. We were clothed and fed with a roof over our heads. But there was little money for anything else. But there was always Tamarac, where simple, childhood memories were made. Today, I would like to invite you to join me as I visit those memories. To quote Dad, “Let’s go for a drive.”

Our journey would begin by piling into our ‘65 Ford Galaxy with my brother, sister and parents. There was no need to worry about seat belts back then which made fighting in the back seat easy. Air conditioning? Sure, just crank the window down and stick your head out the window like a dog. Of course, the real luxury was the vinyl seat covering which would cause freezer burn in the winter and fry our legs like bacon in the summer.

We would enter Tamarac on the same road we use today. An abrupt end to the pavement signaled the entry point. We would tool around slowly, since there was no hurry. Dad, who I knew didn’t know anything, somehow had an encyclopedic knowledge of just about everything. As we slowly wound our way down gravel roads, he would point out the hardwood maple mixed with the bushy blue spruce. Through his eyes, boring old sloughs suddenly became alive with geese, turtles, swans and ducks. Deer, gophers and snakes suddenly emerged from the woods. Tamarac was suddenly alive with interesting creatures.

Eventually, Dad would pull over at a picnic site. As we rolled out of the Ford, he would tell us to, “pick up some sticks.” It was time for lunch, which would consist of hot dogs, roasted on the end of a stick over an open fire, with a side of beans and a bag of cheap potato chips. In our eyes, this was a meal fit for a king! This banquet was washed down with gulps of Kool-Aid ending our lunch with gap-toothed smiles framed by sticky purple lips. What more could a kid want?

Of course, the trips had their problems, too. Once, while roasting a hot dog, I stood too close to the fire and melted the end of my cheap, plastic sneaker. In an unfortunate bit of timing, I had just asked Mom for a new pair of shoes as that pair was shot. When I showed Mom my newly-melted shoe, she apparently thought I had melted my shoe on purpose to get a new pair- which for the record, was not true. I wasn’t sneaky; I was just stupid. Regardless, I went to the car with a sore rear end and a melted shoe which I wore for many weeks to come.

Sweetums and I have taken Bubba and Petey to Tamarac for a number of visits over the years and, in fact, we still do. It’s easy to let them know where we are going. I usually start with something like this, “Let’s go for a drive . . .”