A Prairie Wind Blows Back to Kansas

My father, Bob Hamm, at age 97, asked his children to take him back to his home place in Kansas while he can still travel. The town is Humboldt, in southeastern Kansas, where his pioneer ancestors arrived in the mid-19th century. Here's a pictorial account of what we saw and did:

Here's the main east-west thoroughfare through town, Bridge Street. The town hit its peak in the early 20th century, but the automation of farming and arrival of Walmart in neighboring towns led to its decline. I have a childhood memory of a woman driving a tractor fast down this street--standing up. She was burned dark brown by the sun and had muscular shoulders. I later learned that she was Charlotte "Charlie"Townsend, a distant relative.

Here's the old water tower on the main square.

Here's my brother, Rob, in the bandstand. Our great-grandfather Hamm, in addition to being a farmer and state legislator (briefly), was the band director. He played the cornet.

Humboldt was a stop on the underground railroad, helping escaped slaves make their way to safety. For this offense, the town was attacked repeatedly by raiders from Missouri. These were the militias who took advantage of the 2nd Amendment to bear arms and hunt down people as if they were animals. My great-great-grandfather Works fought in the Civil War.

Here's the town museum. I spent a week in the midwest around this trip to Humboldt, and it seems like every town has a museum. They are very proud of their pioneer pasts.

In the museum, we saw a lard press donated by my grandfather Hamm.

Among the exhibits in the museum was a barbed wire display.

Cousin Margaret and her husband, Gary.

An old hay rake on the museum grounds.

John, Bob, Allison and Rob--in front of what had been our great-grandparents' house. It's for sale! We remember visiting with our great-aunt Helen for Easter, when she typically made a cake in the shape of a lamb, with coconut frosting.

Our grandparents' farm, where my father grew up. I have many great memories from this place, including catching catfish with my grandmother in the farm pond and gathering eggs in the hen house. I also have some shocking memories. Once when I was staying with my grandparents, probably 5-6 years old, we were driving home to the farm and came upon the aftermath of a head-on collision in front of the house. Two people had smashed into their windshield. The car was in the middle of the road. The driver, a man, was bawling like a distressed calf. The woman was dead. This was the first time I saw a dead person. Other negative experiences there were less traumatic. I helped my grandmother cut the head off a live chicken. It ran around the barnyard headless.

We had a great dinner with our cousins. My father remembered incredible details from the past, for instance, the date of the cousins' parents' wedding day.

In a neighboring town, Iola, where my father went to junior college and I ate my first tamale, the old theater remains. This was shot at dawn, when not a citizen was stirring.

Our cousin, Joe Works, is one of the leading citizens of Humboldt. He and his wife, Janey, own BW Inc., a trailer hitch manufacturing company, which employs 388 people. This was on land that my parents farmed when I was a little kid. Joe recently bulldozed our former house to make way for a company fitness center. Life goes on.

This trip was emotional for me, my siblings and my father. This is where we came from. I felt the spirits of my ancestors rustling about.