Human Touch

What is the human story worth? My family and I recently visited Spring Mill State Park just south of Bedford, Indiana. Nice weather was forecasted, and we had the time, so we quickly loaded up the tent and the bikes and took off. A couple of hours later, we were choosing the better spot to strike the tent, quite the decision since I do not like to sleep on a slope.

We then began busting camp while Jennie and I bickered about which bikes I brought and forgetting the rainfly on tent—I  temporarily forgot to prioritize what was important and what wasn’t.

The next day we visited the grist mill in the pioneer village. Honestly, we weren’t expecting much. We figured we would see a couple log homes and a mock-operational mill. Without saying, we were so wrong. The village is collectively many log homes, some moved in from different locations, complete with artifacts and antique relics. Each building is a museum in itself. The mill is fully operational and is fed only by the chute water that flows in from a spring in the forest. Running once an hour on the hour, you can watch the water turn the wheel, which turns the gears and grinds the cornmeal. The man working the mill is a historian and is kindly ready and able to answer all your questions no matter how trivial.

My wife Jennie enjoyed the weaver’s house. There, another historian sat and created handmade rugs on the handmade loom. (They sold for $20 at the apothecary!)The loom was a gift from the homeowner to his wife—2013, and we choose gifts for our wives just as badly now as men did then. She answered our questions while she worked and took the time to explain the work and its importance during pioneer times.

From the weaver’s home, we walked and viewed the schoolhouse; the tavern/inn; the still; another homestead; the potter’s house; and the garden (beautiful). Lastly, we visited the stables/blacksmith. Here we met Everett Rance and his daughter the potter.

While our boys played in the water and visited the church, we stood, watched, and talked. Jennie watched and talked to the potter while she imprinted maple leaves, freshly picked from the tree, onto her handmade pottery.  Commuting over two hours to work for the park, she is a wealth of information and a talented artist. Her friendliness and ease of conversation mesmerizingly delighted Jennie for quite some time.

Mr. Rance and I spoke casually about state parks and his travels. Mr. Rance looked to be in his seventies (forgive me Mr. Rance if I am wrong). He spoke fondly about pulling a pop-up trailer in his station wagon throughout the country and visiting state parks when his children were young. As he reminisced and spoke of when his family was making their memories, his sentimental smile and candor thrilled me into keeping my own mouth shut and making a conscious effort to write his words into my own mind while thinking of my own memories with my family.

“We always teased my son for going into each state butt first,” he said. He explained that his son claimed an allergy that could only be medicated with food. So, he was ever in the cooler getting out something to eat. He also talked about togetherness and how close his family was during those times.

“We never had a lot. Anytime we had a dollar, we spent it going somewhere. We didn’t consider it wasting money. We considered it making memories. One night, after our oldest daughter had left home, my wife and I were lying awake in the camper.  Our two daughters slept in the same bed. Our son had his own little space where he slept. The youngest girl was still quite little and this was the first time she had to sleep by herself. In the middle of the night, in the softest little voice, we could hear her calling to our son. She kept whispering his name over and over. He finally answered her and she said, ‘Can I touch you?’ She was so little; she just wanted to know someone else was there.” His smile was so sincere and real at that moment. It immediately grabbed my heart and forced an unswallowable frog to lodge in my throat.

What are emotions and human touch worth?  We can’t place a value on our travels or the moments spent with our families. Of all the money I have spent on frivolity, I, like you, wouldn’t trade a solitary dime for the memory of my family’s love.

Please share an interestingly "Human" stoy of your own.