American Gods Reminiscence
My grandparents had a farm on County Highway JJ in Lone Rock, just twenty some minutes from one of Wisconsin's weirdest attractions, The House on the Rock. The House on the Rock is a shrine to one man's weird collections and architectural dreams. The house itself is like some shag pile automated party house for Austin Powers, while the outlying warehouse-like buildings are crammed with everything from creepy dolls and dollhouses to mannequins wearing some of the oddest outfits to Eastern shrines and vast copper kettles surrounded by little walkways and staircases that go nowhere. And then there's the carousel. It's the world's largest indoor carousel that features 269 carousel animals, 182 chandeliers, over 20,000 lights, and hundreds of mannequin angels hanging from the ceiling. I spent much of my childhood hoping to ride that carousel, but alas, they don't allow it. I literally don't know how many times my parents took me there, it was a way to divert my brother and me for hours. I loved getting lost in the recreation of old streets and looking into fake houses, always wondering about other places and other people's lives.
The last time I went with my parents was for one of my brother's birthday parties. I remember it was sometime after the movie Big came out because I was 100% convinced that my fortune from the Esmeralda Machine, like Zoltar, would come to pass. In fact, it kind of did. I scoffed at it saying I'd end up in theatre and then I went and got myself a degree doing theatre tech! Though I am to this day grateful the card didn't say:
Years later when I was out of high school I went back with my friends and was still awed by the weirdness of it all. Last fall I went for what I am claiming will be my last time. The place was dusty and dilapidated, hot and overwhelming. And so cacophonous with the om-pah-pah music reverberating everywhere. But it's been a part of my life for so long it's no surprise that when I heard there was a book set there written by Neil Gaiman I ran to the bookstore and bought it. I am glad that American Gods wasn't the first Gaiman book I read because I have a feeling I would never have read anything else by him. He has often stated that American Gods is his most polarizing book and I can see that just among my friends. Some view it as the best book they've ever read and some have never been able to finish it. I just feel stupid when I read it, like I need a PHD in mythology to grasp the plot. I even tried to re-read it last fall before my final excursion to The House on the Rock and failed after the first section. But American Gods does hold a special place in my heart because Neil perfectly captured a place that was part of my growing up and immortalized it. So when the dust and decay and faulty wiring finally consume Alex Jordan's vision it will live on through Neil's writing.
When I was just a little girl... (ok, now I have "Que Sera, Sera" in my head). But, seriously, when I was just a little girl I don't think I ever had a full weekend at home. My brother and I would be bundled into the car and would either head east to Milwaukee, where my dad would have work and we would stay with my Uncle spending vast periods of time at the Milwaukee Public Museum, or, which was more likely the case, we would head west to my maternal grandparents farm. They had a big old farm house out in the driftless region about half way between Spring Green and Lone Rock (the coldest place in the state with the warmest heart) out on Hwy. JJ. The house was huge, having been a mail order farmstead from Sears that was expanded on over the generations. Almost every Sunday this is where I was to be found, in the house, while my grandfather would always insist that we should go outside and play (rare photo of me "in the wild" flying a kite above). There were many reasons that I didn't like to go outside. One was my really bad allergies, two was it was usually hot or cold and I liked the standard temperature indoors, but three was because of Doctor Who. 
I am a tv addict. I love television (though I am studiously ignoring it and obviously bored in this picture of my grandparents living room). I can honestly say that I came by this through genetics. My grandfather was a worse tv addict then me (notice, the tv is the center of the room). Not only did he have the tv on constantly, even eating his dinner away from the rest of the family watching tv, but when he got a VCR he would record everything he watched as well. Now there is only so much space for tapes of America's Funniest Home Videos... I mean seriously, that house was filled with them. At this time though, what was to be his favorite and most recorded show had not yet made it's debut. Instead he turned on PBS and left it on all day. No one was allowed to turn the channel because in the morning was This Old House, which being a constant remodeller in the most unique of ways (there was an outlet built into the top of the house to hang lights on the old satellite dish) he had to watch. Then at dinner time Are You Being Served? was on... which was his favorite comedy. So that there would be no interruption between the two shows the channel was never changed all day.
What was on PBS during the interval between This Old House and Are You Being Served? you might ask? The answer is Doctor Who. Doctor Who with Tom Baker. Now, I'm a little kid at this point, like 6 or 7, and, not wanting to go outside, well, that left Doctor Who. This show freaked me out on a regular basis. I liked the goofy man in the blue box who saved the day, but what I most remember is him being chased in gravel pits by evil monsters, notably, the Cybermen. Now to add to this story the crucial point. My grandparents farm had two big fields and then hills. In these hills were located two quarries. As in gravel pits. As in, the place where The Doctor always encountered his enemies. So after spending an afternoon seeing a show that clearly stated the dangers of gravel pits, my grandfather would tell me to go out and play in a gravel pit (in the photo above, the gravel pit is out of sight to the right). Now, at this point, you might be thinking that, oh, he didn't mean to scare me, this isn't his way. WRONG! This is just the sadistic kind of humor he had, which I have indeed inherited. This is a man who would hid peas in his blind cat's food to watch him sort it out in a little line on the side, laughing the whole time. So in other words, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Whenever I went to the lower gravel pit my parents always wondered why there was one section I would never go into. Well, in fairness, I spent so much time learning about the dangers of gravel pits, I knew that that little curve in the valley created by the gravel was where the Cybermen lived. I knew it in my heart. Years later, when Doctor Who had fallen out of my life, now that my grandfather had switched to watching ABC on Sundays, I would still get chills thinking about that lower pit. In fact, it wasn't until I started watching Doctor Who again that I remembered that this was the reason I was scared. I had totally forgotten about Cyberman and the goofy guy in the blue box, but I remember expecting to see a flash of silver if I where to turn round that corner. I still find it odd that years later I would look back on this time as a defining time in my life, despite the fear. Was a born to be a Whovian? Or did my grandfather make me into one?
