Last night I met a woman at the campground who was entirely Midwestern to the core. She was spending the night at a campground (jellystone) only four miles from her own home with her granddaughter. Her name was Gloria and she brought the granddaughter to the campground because she and her husband had just taken her big brothers camping on the Missouri River to fish and she felt she needed to do something for her. We talked about kids and camping. It was an very pleasant way to pass the evening.

 As we talked, I asked her what we should do and expect out of South Dakota. I asked her about a couple of places in particular. “Gloria,” I said, “we’re planning to stop in Mitchell at the Corn Palace. What do you think?” “It’s stupid.” She replied with a very frank and sincere Midwestern tone. “Really?” I asked incredulously. “It’s Americana.” “It’s goofy,” she replied. “If you are going to go, don’t bother going in. It’s just a big craft fair. It’s stupid.” I was sure at this point that even though Gloria had thus far been utterly delightful, she must just not GET IT. I mean, we are on a quest to see the strange. It’s all part of the fun. She must not have a sense of humor. “You know, Mitchell is a real bore of a town. Sure, it got a little better after the Cabela’s came to town (sporting goods store), but it still isn’t much.” Intrigued, I pressed on. “So, what about Rapid City? There has to be something worth seeing there,” I asked. What came next was perhaps the funniest conversation I have ever had. A good part of the humor lay in the accent, so be sure to imagine a hearty Fargo (the movie) style accent here… “Well, they have that dinosaur park. It’s kind of stupid. Goofy little dinosaurs. Then, there’s the reptile museum. It’s full of snakes. It stinks (picture a wrinkled nose). No, I’ve never heard of the pirate restaurant. It’s probably tourist-y. If you want to have a good time ditch the kids and head up to Deadwood to the casinos. They’re pretty good.” It was like I was talking to my mother-in-law. It was wonderful… a Midwestern Eli! I missed that kind of honest answer. Imagine a Tennessean telling the truth about Gatlinburg and Dollywood. “Yeah, the trees are nice, but there’s nothing up there but fake Indian drums and goo-goo clusters. It’s pretty much a big craft fair. Don’t bother.” I was floored.

 Today, when we pulled up to the Mitchell Corn Palace with it’s façade only partly covered in corn, Aidan pointed out a very large mouse running from the building with it’s cheeks full of kernels. I was disheartened at first when I saw that the corn portrait of the Seattle Space Needle and NY’s Lady Liberty were only about 50% complete, so I insisted that we visit the inside. Maybe there was something worth the detour from the interstate in there. There had to be! As we walked along the corn footprint pathway past the concessions selling all flavors of popcorn (naturally) and the pictures of the corn palace’s facades over the years (since the 1890’s, mind you). I couldn’t help but to think of Gloria. The Corn Palace was stupid.