Published by Lisa M. Prysock on September 8th, 2016
I can attribute my Grandma Stanley for sending me a birthday gift that would inspire my writing dreams for years to come: The Little House on the Prairie books on my seventh birthday to the best of my recollection. I voraciously read and re-read those books a number of times as I grew up, and again in adult life. Even then, they provided me with endless hours of enjoyment.
When the movie and then the television series came out, I sat glued weekly to the screen with millions of other little girls across our nation, anxious to see what adventures and life lessons Michael Landon, Karen Grassle, Melissa Sue Anderson, Melissa Gilbert, Lindsay and Sidney Greenbush, Alison Arngrim, Katherine MacGregor, and many others... would bring to life.
If my mother even hinted of changing the channel or watching something else, massive groaning and pleas of absolute displeasure would erupt in our living room. The entire family enjoyed the program, and there were few conflicts over what to watch, but when they did arise, it was unthinkable to change the channel in my opinion. My sisters and I would not hear of it, but especially me. There were three of us; just like Mary, Laura, and baby Carrie. (Grace hadn't been born yet on the show...) Our identity was at least in part, wrapped up in the characters portrayed on the screen. It was uncanny how much we had in common. We ultimately decided that I was very much like Mary, and my sisters were just like Laura and Carrie; in order of birth. Maybe I had some of Laura and Mary in me, as I have grown to become the writer in the family.
In retrospect, my obsession with the stories probably were fed by the 'Little House on the Prairie' bonnets and long dresses my mother made for the three of us girls to wear during the Christmas season one year. How we loved those bonnets and dresses! We wore those dresses for a number of years. I still love everything old-fashioned and am inspired by the simplicity of a time when life was filled with ladies who were treated like ladies because they acted like ladies. To this day, I prefer pretty long skirts and dresses over jeans any day of the week.
Charles, played by Michael Landon, delighted us with his pioneer spirit, his faith in God, and the joy he shared with American families all across our nation. I remember his laughter and the way he acted out the role of a good father for his family. He brought these books to life for me and millions and of others. I'm thankful that his son has been following in his footsteps to provide family oriented and faith inspired entertainment for our world. This is a path I want to continue to be a part of for years to come, God willing.
You can imagine my delight when we finally embarked on our trip to Missouri. This was rather like a pilgrimage for me; one of those things on my bucket list of destiny. I gave my mother about one hour notice and packed up myself and the teens. The only downside was that my husband wouldn't be able to accompany us due to his hectic work schedule. We own a small handyman and home improvements business. Summer is his busy season. Over the years, it has proven to be almost impossible for him to escape for summer getaways except for on very rare occasions. Wonderful, loving husband that he is, he was happy to make one of my dreams come true for me though!
I could hardly sleep the night before. My toes tingled with excitement at the prospect of finally seeing, and actually touching... some of the Laura legacy. She brought the pioneer spirit in all of us to life. Laura and her family showed us how to make sacrifices, live with integrity, and help each other. The Ingalls and Wilder families taught us to forgive, show kindness to those least deserving, make the best of everything, find the joy in family, to see the beauty in everything, weather the storms, and to never give up our faith in God.
When we had driven over the hills in the low country of the Ozarks, my heart was beating with excitement as we turned right onto the road that would lead us to the entrance of Rocky Ridge Farm. I passed a sign that mentioned her house was up ahead and checking my rear view mirror to be sure no cars were behind, I slammed the brakes on and threw the gear in my Jeep into reverse.
"Courtney!"I hollered over my right shoulder to the backseat, "Get a picture of that sign!"
She obeyed instantly, knowing I wouldn't budge our vehicle to continue on without full compliance. She, my mother, and my son, Aaron, had witnessed the gleam in my eye and the excitement in my voice about this visit for days. Not to mention all of the reruns I had forced them to watch on television of the series. Somehow, I hoped that the moral lessons the Ingalls had given us through Laura's writing about the adventures of family, faith, and perseverance would sink into them from that experience like it had for me over the years.
(Mom at the entrance sign, below:)
The gravel parking lot across from the entrance to the house was exactly where they'd said it would be when I had called to ask questions and make notes for our journey before the trip. After a few more photos near the entrance sign, I had to remember to breathe as we crossed the road and walked up the drive to see the house Almanzo had built for Laura. I kept my eye on it, watching a few other tourists wander in ahead of us, wishing we'd arrived a little earlier. Nervously looking at my watch, I knew we had exactly two hours to explore every inch of the grounds and houses before it would close. I was so thankful for the sunshine and good weather on this particular afternoon. God was smiling down on me. He was going to help me find more inspiration to take home with me from this long awaited trip.
My mother, sporting a sprained ankle and graceful aging, had a hard time making it up the hill. I wanted to run, but I soon realized we were going to need to bring my car up to the house for her. We also needed to locate the cashier to purchase tickets to tour inside the rock house Rose had built for her parents, the farm house Almanzo had built, and the museum. It didn't take me long to drive us around to the museum and run inside to purchase the tickets. "Wait here, mom!" I didn't want her to expend a needless drop of extra energy, so I left the air conditioning on and ran inside to purchase the tickets.
We decided to join the rock house tour first. Nestled down the road a ways and at the top of a hill among the trees, the rock house was situated in the most lovely setting with absolutely breathtaking views of the lush countryside. Everything was so green. There were plenty of shady areas. I could immediately understand why they had selected that location to build the house. In the distance, a rich, fenced meadow of cows grazed in the neighboring pasture. I was surprised at how many cows were there. I wondered if grandchildren of the same neighbor family owned those cows or if someone else had purchased the land. The tour guides delighted us with many tidbits and little known facts. They also interacted with us and smiled, which I greatly appreciated. I was still trying to remind myself to breathe, but I was calming down and immensely enjoying just being there, walking along the paths Laura had walked, touching the doors Laura touched, taking in the lifestyle of this beloved writer.
At this point, my mother was enjoying the tour as much as we were. She told me later that my Great Grandmother Bemis had the same Depression Era pink china and the very same Blue Willow dish pattern as Laura had in her dining room hutch. (Later, when we arrived to visit one of my uncles in the Springfield area, my mother pointed out some of the same dishes from that pattern in his china cabinet. I was very glad to find that someone in the family still had some of these heirlooms!) That fascinated me greatly as I enjoy dishes and filling my own china cabinet here in Kentucky. This rock house was more formal, had electricity and running water, felt a little cooler, and had an amazing picture window on one end. The few pieces of furniture were either very elegant, functional, or hand made with love by Almanzo; perfect for their small family. I liked the simplicity of what filled the home. I especially liked the views of the land around that house.
What love Rose must have had for her parents to build that home and make sure that it contained all of the newest modern conveniences. The narrow and small galley kitchen reminded me of the one we had in our Florida apartment and the one I had in my Texas kitchen (in the San Antonio home where we lived when my son Nick was born). The front and back porch were two additional features I liked.
Everywhere we looked, I could see Almanzo's labors in the furniture and many conveniences he had installed for Laura. These things made me think of my own husband, Rob, and all that he has done for me over the years. The tour guide told us more tidbits about Laura, Almanzo, and Rose. It was fascinating to realize that Rose had at one point been the second highest paid writer in America. Few realized this, as she lived so much in the shadow of Laura's success with her books about life growing up on the prairie, Wisconsin, Kansas, Minnesota, Dakota Territory, Iowa, and ultimately, the Ozarks. Few know that she and Almanzo also lived in Florida for two years.
We took photos and moved on to take the tour of the farmhouse Almanzo had built for Laura. My mom was too tired to go inside that house, but wild horses couldn't have kept me away. While mom rested in the car, my teens and I thoroughly enjoyed the next tour. Again, I could see the parallels between Almanzo and my husband; they have both done so much for the loves of their lives.
There were many things I would love to remember about that farmhouse: how Almanzo and Laura dragged the kitchen over from the original cabin on the property; the pie making table in the kitchen; the way Almanzo had made a way for Laura to have running water; the pass through window and many pantry drawers and cupboards Almanzo built for her; the cozy dining room and wood stove (much like my Grandpa Cain's used to look) where I imagine they spent many a winter to stay warm; the long but narrow bedroom (which reminded me of the bedroom my Grandma and Grandpa Cain shared and the porch bedroom we used when we stayed overnight at their farmhouse); Laura's writing room-- oh Laura's writing room... such a lovely little nook of a room; the window seat so much like the one Rob built for me in our Ohio home... almost the very same cinnamon oak and maple looking stain for color; the library shelves and the staircase, the way it turned and went up to the second floor; how the staircase seemed to match the window seat; the screened in porch and the other two porches on that home; and the stone fireplace. Not to mention, the countryside views of the sloping lawn from the living room, writing room, and kitchen.
The front room was so inviting and warm. One could spend many a pleasant hour reading by the fireplace or doing needlework by the corner windows that allowed the sunlight to stream inside. It was also particularly nice to see Laura's books, some of her clothing, and most of her dishes are all still there; along with all of her pictures and nick-knacks. Naturally, I was one of the last to leave the writing room. The tour guide at this house was wonderful also! Here is a photo of my daughter and I on the front porch of the farmhouse:
We were also the last to leave the entire property besides the staff workers, of course! We lingered in the museum and gift shop. We also explored the grounds and took plenty of outdoor photos. We signed the guest book and spoke to the cashier, amazed to discover that one of Carrie's step-grandchildren had stopped by to visit Rocky Ridge just a few days prior to our visit. I could have spent another two hours in the museum, and I would definitely enjoy taking the house tours again. There are a few more places on the grounds I would have liked to have lingered upon. Here are the kids taking pictures while trying on coon skin hats at the museum gift shop:
I left Rocky Ridge feeling absolutely elated, inspired, and delighted. I had much to thank the good Lord for in that he allowed me to enjoy such a thoroughly inspirational experience. I left thinking, you know, I really should write a Laura story. I would highly recommend visiting this fascinating location if you ever have the chance. I am leaving so much out... it is hard to put it all into words.
As I reflected on Laura's life and all that I have learned about her over the years, I think the thing I would most like to remember is that Laura was an ensample to us. The Bible tells us to mark the ensamples. Laura was a pioneer with an unbeatable, unstoppable, courageous and resilient spirit that helped her go on to live a full and rewarding life of amazing victory in spite of a great many obstacles, difficulties, and disappointments. Laura took care of her blind sister, helped her parents as they went through many struggles, raised her own family, taught school, wrote down her beloved stories into delightful books, grew up dirt poor, endured the taunts of other school children... and went on to grieve the loss of a dearly loved son to a terrible fire. In each of these life struggles, Laura and her family rose to the challenges to keep the faith and honor the Lord with their lives. How fitting that their daughter is named Rose. So too, must you and I, my friend, rise to the challenges of life. Look for 'Arise Princess Warrior' to be published soon, and on the heels of this wonderful and memorable summer excursion.
