The human hand print is much older in Ohio, than say, Arizona. The woods and fields are parceled into perfect squares. Summer is a quaint, green tapestry. I would have liked to have followed more of the threads that wove the towns and people, but that will be for another time. I never imagined myself wanting to return to this Midwest state when I have Iceland and Australia on my bucket list, but it's true. America is still a trove of treasures for even the local traveler.
The Toth clan reunited at lodges located near Amish country. In fact we had to drive through the homestead of an Amish family to meet at the main gathering place. Three little boys would look and wave our way as we sped through their property. I rolled down the windows and yelled at my kids to be nice, smile and wave back.
One afternoon, Zander already took the car to the main lodge so I was at our cabin with no vehicle. He also had my shoes... Yes! I will walk with Sam, barefoot on the dirt road, and straight through (with humble pride), the Amish farm. Surely, they will notice my strength and ability to weather life without the comforts of technology. Then they will invite me in and give me some jewels of wisdom. I will be folded into their community, accepted, counted worthy of their simple life style.
An hour and a half later... The Village soundtrack on repeat, no Amish, hot, thirsty, bruised feet, I decided to rest under the only shady tree for a mile around and call Zander for a nice and tidy rescue. As the line is ringing, Sam is poking at something on the ground with a stick. "What is it boy?"
"Ahh, ehh, umph!" He says. I look to see the fresh remains of a large mass of roadkill. I shudder to think that I could be stepping in some of it's post death excretions. I inch to the very edge of our shady shared space. Thankfully Zander answered
his phone, which is rare, but I guess more common than Amish folk taking me seriously.