I visited Nauvoo for the first time in the Spring of
2010. I was moving across the country
from Utah to Pennsylvania and it was a time of earth-shattering change in my
life. This is what I wrote then:
“Nauvoo is an incredible place, with an especially incredible spirit and I’m sure I would’ve been emotional any time I visited, but on the particular trip I was struck with the parallels to my own circumstances. The whole spirit of Nauvoo is exodus. We were repeatedly reminded how the early Saints had built a beautiful city and a wonderful life and they left it all behind. Packed whatever they could fit in their wagons and headed west, to an uncertain life and an uncertain future. I was in the process of my own exodus. Leaving everything I had built for myself, my family and friends, and heading east to a new job, a new life and an uncertain future - my car loaded with the possessions it would fit, and hoping that I had everything necessary to start over. And so, after visiting the grave of Joseph and Hyrum Smith and watching the Mississippi roll by, I got back in my car and drove up the trail of hope moving east instead of west to my new life.”
I read that now and all those feeling of uncertainty and
anxiety come flooding back (usually accompanied by tears), but also accompanied
by the sense of accomplishment and confidence in the ways my life has changed
since that day – driving east up the Trail of Hope to a new life.
Since that day, I’ve moved cross country several times,
sojourned in Czechia to teach English, traveled around the country and around
this world. And now I know – I have everything necessary to
start over. I have everything necessary
to be homeless for a year while I indulge my love of travel and commitment to
The List. I know I’ve got this, and that
made this visit to Nauvoo entirely different.
Nauvoo wasn’t originally part of my plan. But my nephew was called to serve a mission
in St Louis, MO and I was going to be in Iowa for the State Fair (check out
1000 Places to See for that), and well, Nauvoo was basically between those two
places.
On this visit I was more interested in visiting the
businesses rather than the homes. I
spent time at the Tin Shop, the Browning Gun Shop, Post Office/Dry Goods Store,
Printing Office, Blacksmith Shop, Brickyard, and of course, the Bakery.
At the Blacksmith Shop the missionary was showing us a
standard wagon and talking about the space limitations. He (perhaps unwisely)
singled me out to ask if I could imagine moving across country with everything
I needed in such a small space. “Hmm,
yes,” I answered, “I’m doing it with less space right now.” Oops, maybe not the best example. He moved on right quick after that. While talking about the blacksmith trade in
Nauvoo, and the experiences of the family that owned that shop he fashioned a
miniature horseshoe from iron. Every
family left with one. He then ushered us
outside and encouraged everyone to pick out a prairie diamond. A ring fashioned out of a nail.
I met a family there and we chatted after the families with
small children had gone, and we could pick out a ring in peace. They were traveling the entire Mormon Trail
with their late teen/young adult daughter.
He had served many years in the military, and mentioned that he had been
to Nauvoo in the 70s. When “it was just
a bunch of dirt roads, and broken down buildings.” He couldn’t believe the amount of change the
city had undergone. How massive the
restoration of the town was and what a monument to history it is.
At the Brickyard I learned about how to make bricks, how the
buildings were constructed and received a tiny brick of my own. I also learned it in Spanish since the bulk
of my tour required a translator. I
loved it. I was also treated to the
daddest joke of all when our missionary guide said there was one famous brick
maker in that was a huge failure in Nauvoo, but found amazing success
elsewhere. “His bricks were just to
small”, he said, “unusable, it would’ve taken hundreds of thousands to complete
a building.” He shook his head and pulled a small handful of Legos from his
pocket.
At the Print Shop I was on my own tour and we mostly just
chatted about my travels, since I’d visited the Grandin Print Shop in Palmyra
and knew the workings. The Post Office
taught me about cross writing and how to fold a paper to be its own envelope to
save money. The Dry Goods portion
reinforced the lessons on color and strength of fired crockery I’d learned at
the brick yard. Brownings taught me that
he was a genius with a gift for weaponry design and repair. The tin shop gave me insight on how much work
went into creating a single skimming pan.
And the Bakery…..
Let me interrupt to say that my first visit occurred on a
weekday in the Spring. Not exactly a
popular time to visit. Visiting on a
Saturday during the Summer was a whole different experience. Super crowded, so many kids, so many crying
kids, so many misbehaving kids, so many annoying kids. So. Many. Kids.
The Bakery is tiny, and you start the tour by opening the
gate and walking around back. When I
looked inside the shop and saw it was packed with kids? Well, I noped out and said I’d wait for the
next tour. Then, I prayed real hard that
no families would come around back before the next tour started. After I saw
the exodus of a million kids from the shop, the sister missionaries saw me
still sitting outside, alone. One opened
the door, and asked if I still wanted a tour.
“Yes,” I said, then chucked, “well, I really just want the cookie, but I
saw all those kids and just couldn’t do it.”
They laughed along with me and exchanged looks that said, “We totally
understand, but you know, we’re the missionaries.” They we chatted for a
minute, I got my (super soft and delicious) ginger cookie, and I headed out to
see the river.
You can walk right out into the mighty Mississippi from the
Trail of Hope and standing at the edge reminded me of how many places I’ve
seen, and people I’ve met, and things I’ve done, and how far outside of my
comfort zone that takes me, and how much I enjoy it.
This time I didn’t drive up the trail of hope, but instead
drove south along the river. Saluting
all the travelers that have embraced adventure and exploration as their new
life.
ETA: And then I stopped at the Red Brick Store and bought a
cold root beer because, crivens, it was a hot day!
