MaineCourse

Torroemore

The summer of my sophomore year in high school I worked in Nevada Missouri, helping -nominally- to build my uncle Willoughby’s new auto parts store. Nevada (long “a”) is a town of about ten thousand, two hours southwest of Excelsior Springs and a handful of miles from Fort Scott, Kansas. Fort Scott was established in the mid-eighteen hundreds as part of our government's “Manifest Destiny” program.

At sixteen, I was painfully shy around kids my own age. Thus, I was happy to move cinder blocks and bolt together metal display shelving, but I dreaded my aunt Mary Jane’s plans. Meet her friends, play with their kids. My uncle Willoughby, my mother’s brother, could see my discomfort and that is when he pulled me aside,
“As an adult you’ll constantly be doing things you don’t want to do. But not now, not this summer.”

He must have said something similar to his wife because after that, when Mary Jane came by, I no longer had to pretend to be asleep. When my uncle offered, I was thrilled to shoot skeet, eat the cattle drive of steaks that he provided, drive his souped-up yellow pickup truck (no license), and stock up on M-80’s.

Short of being dead, the week we spent at Torroemore is as close as I’ll ever get to to that summer in Nevada. I ate meat, though more tomatoes; I shot images, not clay pigeons, and I limited my daily activities to what would make a flagellum happy. Quite simply, I did what I wanted to do, and not one thing more.

Matthew has made seventeen trips to visit Susan and Jim's, some alone, many with friends, none of late with us, his parents. He loves his Minnesota trips, to the red house on the hill called Torroemore. The smile on his face when I drop him at Logan is exceeded only by the one he brings home.

This is the first year in five that he begrudgingly consented to our company. While his need to leave us far behind has never been a mystery, it was only last week that I realized Torroemore has always been his Nevada summer.

Photo Gallery (New Window Opens)

I've always had this sense (as described here) of Torroemore, ever since the superb photo Mike took of young Matt clutching the red fox stuffed animal toy, together an icon of childhood (probably wasn't even taken there.......). It's nice to hear it described as feeling as I imagine it.

Thought there'd be more pictures of food, given the Earleigh's detailed descriptions of same. But Mike doesn't focus on food as much as some of us...........

Posted by appreciative.

Torroemore looks heavenly. What a great get away. I think Susan should figure out a way to bottle it and send it along with her peach pie (which I never did get a piece of).

Posted by idyll envior.

Idyll Envior,
What a great pseudo!!!
But my real reason for writing is to say that, although I cannot bottle and export Torroemore's essence, I can make a fair peach pie in almost anyone's kitchen. During a future visit to WActon, I promise to make you one, which we will get Michael to photograph for Adam before anyone takes fork in hand.

Posted by The Earleigh.

Earleigh, it's a date.

Posted by idyll envior.

Posted by Michael at August 30, 2003 04:48 PM