Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Basement Treasures
This is the Governor Dodge House, which sits majestically atop one of the Loess hills which are the spine of Council Bluffs.
This house is the only attraction in town to warrant a brown sign on I-80. Our home is directly down the bluff from the Dodge house, and when people from out of town visit I tell them to follow the signs.
The house is lit up in the evening, and when I park my car at night I can see the house through the trees, hovering like a ghastly spectre.
Around Christmas time, Susanne and I went to see the house, as it was decorated for Christmas and we have a running joke that I am going to give her the deed as a wedding present. One begins one's visit at the residence next door, which has been appropriated by the city as an extension of the museum. There, one purchases overpriced tickets from a crusty woman who is as old as the worn rugs on the floor. She directs visitors to have a seat on a folding chair in the parlor across the hall, where one watches a video about Governor Dodge before walking next door to see his house.
There, just in the door, one meets another crusty old woman, who must have been installed with the feeble electric lighting at the beginning of the 20th Century. This gatekeeper is very particular about making absolutely sure one visits the house's rooms in the precise order listed on the self-guided tour sheet she hands out at the door. If one wanders into the parlor before seeing both the den and the kitchen, she flaps over to steer one back on track. "Oh, oh, have you seen the KITCHEN yet? Yes, look, it's the next number on your sheet. You must see the marble on the mantle."
If one escapes her, one travels up huge staircases, sees bedrooms on the second floor and a ballroom and servants' quarters on the third. For Christmas the home is decorated in each room with a lavish Christmas tree decorated by a clubs or business in the community.
After the upstairs tour, one winds back downstairs through the kitchen and into the basement, where memorabilia contemporary to the Dodges evokes a sense of the time and place in which this grand home was built. It was there, hiding in the crypt-like basement, after all the sumptuous furnishings, tiny beds, period clothes, and ancient furniture, that I saw the priceless treasure which hangs, rather unnoticed, upon the wall--
A photograph of a crowd, and of a man, and of the dog that sniffed his crotch.
This house is the only attraction in town to warrant a brown sign on I-80. Our home is directly down the bluff from the Dodge house, and when people from out of town visit I tell them to follow the signs.
The house is lit up in the evening, and when I park my car at night I can see the house through the trees, hovering like a ghastly spectre.
Around Christmas time, Susanne and I went to see the house, as it was decorated for Christmas and we have a running joke that I am going to give her the deed as a wedding present. One begins one's visit at the residence next door, which has been appropriated by the city as an extension of the museum. There, one purchases overpriced tickets from a crusty woman who is as old as the worn rugs on the floor. She directs visitors to have a seat on a folding chair in the parlor across the hall, where one watches a video about Governor Dodge before walking next door to see his house.
There, just in the door, one meets another crusty old woman, who must have been installed with the feeble electric lighting at the beginning of the 20th Century. This gatekeeper is very particular about making absolutely sure one visits the house's rooms in the precise order listed on the self-guided tour sheet she hands out at the door. If one wanders into the parlor before seeing both the den and the kitchen, she flaps over to steer one back on track. "Oh, oh, have you seen the KITCHEN yet? Yes, look, it's the next number on your sheet. You must see the marble on the mantle."
If one escapes her, one travels up huge staircases, sees bedrooms on the second floor and a ballroom and servants' quarters on the third. For Christmas the home is decorated in each room with a lavish Christmas tree decorated by a clubs or business in the community.
After the upstairs tour, one winds back downstairs through the kitchen and into the basement, where memorabilia contemporary to the Dodges evokes a sense of the time and place in which this grand home was built. It was there, hiding in the crypt-like basement, after all the sumptuous furnishings, tiny beds, period clothes, and ancient furniture, that I saw the priceless treasure which hangs, rather unnoticed, upon the wall--
A photograph of a crowd, and of a man, and of the dog that sniffed his crotch.
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