In my last full day in Colorado, I decided to venture out to the eastern plains where my father grew up, and where my father, grandfathers, and great grandfather farmed. Getting out there a ways east of Denver I have to agree with my maternal grandfather’s reported assessment when he first visited out there, namely that he’d never been anywhere he could see so far, and see so little. It’s definitely flat with some gradually rolling hills, but it’s dry and somewhat barren. It’s not like the bountiful central valley of California, but there were some periodic fields with corn growing, but mostly a lot of empty space. Maybe I just missed the growing season.
Getting out towards Joes, it seemed like the small towns out there are somewhat desolate. While Cope still had a Memorial Park downtown, many buildings also appeared to be abandoned or in great disrepair. One humorous anachronistic sight was at the corner of the sparse park, in a town that appeared to have no one around, there was a telephone booth. Getting to Joes, I stopped near the Post Office, which seemed to be different from the one attached to Mary Martin’s house. I then went to the cemetery where so many of my ancestors are buried. It’s still being well kept by the Mennonite Brethren church; two sets of grandparents, and one pair of great grandparents are buried there. It was nice to see it kept up considering the state of the surrounding communities. Maybe I just didn’t see the real community since it’s probably mostly people on farms, and according to google, Joes is a census location (population 80) and it has a post office, but there were no stores on the main drag. I guess this was a graveyard-heavy trip since I also visited my folks graves earlier in the week. But still a good trip with lots of good theater as well as a little family history.