Ross's Restaurant

This week's final chapter of Iowa stories:

I was my dad's shadow while I lived at home. There wasn't a whole lot he did that I did help him with - from car repairs to home improvement projects I was always willing to find a needed tool or hold a piece of lumber just so. A lot of my dad time was spent in lumber yards and hardware stores.

I think Dad appreciated the help. He never told me so in words but my dad knew me and the things I liked and he often paid his helper. While we lived in Iowa, one of my favorite treats were Ross burgers. Ross's Restaurant still sits underneath I-74 right on the line between Bettendorf and Davenport. There was a hardware store my dad frequented in downtown Bettendorf and I never missed the chance to accompany Dad on trips to K&K Hardware - because Ross's was just down the road and if I played my cards just right, behaved and smiled just so at Dad......

Ross's specialty is steamed hamburger crumbled up in a warm bun. With a little ketchup, oh what a delight. Dad always slept in on Saturdays. With breakfast, shower and a shave, and a trip to the hardware for that weekend's project, well, if the stars were all in alignment, maybe ......"Dad, I am getting hungry. Is it almost lunch time?" We didn't go every trip to the hardware. My father was an expert at Pavlov's theory of the conditioned reflex. Intermittent reinforcement creates a strong reflex. Intermittent Ross burgers creates a more willing helper!

I also always loved coming home. Mom would ask "What do you two want for lunch?" Dad and I would try to act like we weren't real hungry but Mom always knew! "Did you two got to Ross's? David (uh oh - "David" is bad), she shouldn't be eating that stuff. Did you have french fries too?" To which I truthfully answered no. Serious situation under control! Inside I was smiling big because everybody knows you eat french fried onions with Ross burgers! Dad was a good parent though - he didn't usually indulge me in the chocolate milk I wanted!

So I still try to "sneak" in a Ross burger whenever I am in the Quad Cities. I also always tell my dad when I visit Ross's because if I don't, they just don't taste the same! Make sure you stop at Ross's if you are ever in the Quad Cities: 430 14th St, Bettendorf, IA. They also serve a killer bowl of chili!

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Scrap Lumber

Another story from the years my family lived in Iowa:

Our home in Iowa was on the edge of town in a small subdivision. Homes went up very slowly and at the back of each lot as a home was being constructed was a huge scrape pile full of lumber cut-offs. Those piles provided me with hours of projects.

One project was my tree house that I started and which my father helped me finish. I am sure my mother was worried about the construction specs on anything that large I might build at the age of ten. She had visions of broken bones and tried to warn me off of my dream home! She made sure to work my newest project into the dinnertime conversation that Thursday night. Thursdays were the night my father returned home after his sales trips. I remember the conversation started off with, "Susan, why don't you tell your father what you are working on this week?" I was always in trouble when Mom used Susan and father in the same sentence!

I am sure she thought he would forbid me from carrying the project forward. But Dad dug into my project like it was just another of his home improvement project (which, of course, it was!). I had scraped together quite a few pieces of 2x4's and Dad toted all the necessary tools out to the construction site. You see the tree wasn't in our yard but in the middle of the vacant field behind our home. He even donated some of his plywood stock for the floor. There was a cut out in the floor for an entrance and steps screwed into one of the trunks and just enough railing to make the treehouse safe. Dad must have known of my need for a quiet haven and I spent many an hour in that quiet treehouse away from my sister! The perfect place to read a book without someone wanting me to play Barbies!

When the doctor who owned that portion of the field sold his practice, his replacement also dreamed of broken bones. One very sad day I discovered someone had burnt my treehouse out of the tree. Dad wouldn't help me replace my treehouse since we had received such a stern warning from the new owner. But he did help me build a fort as a replacement! My fort was more like a phone booth without a door but it did have a seat and table built into the walls. We also scavenged some asphalt shingles for the roof! Dad being Dad also put some scavenged tar paper on the roof as anyone knows a good roof should have before shingles. Unfortunately my fort was at the very back of the yard and within calling distance for my mom and pestering distance for my sister. Although I loved the time I spent with Dad building my fort, it was never the same as my treehouse!

Barracuda

Just another fond memory of our days in Bettendorf, IA:

Every man has a flashback to their teen years and my father was no exception. In the spring of 1968, he bought a Plymouth Barracuda Fastback for the family car! She had a fold down back seat that was great for us kids at drive-in movies (See Mary, it is a family car) and a fold down trunk barrier that allowed my dad to carry home lumber for projects. (Very pratical, Dad!) I can remember the weekend he spent detailing the Cuda - racing stripes down her side and pin stripes front to back. She was a funky mint green color with white racing stripes. It was the engine that was my father's true love though. I can remember my mother's screams of panic on the interstate one trip to Michigan when my dad took the Cuda up over 95 mph!

But Dad also travelled a lot and always took the company car. That meant mom drove the Cuda during the week. Now remember we moved from a Detroit suburb - where streets were paved concrete. In Iowa there were a lot of gravel roads - and gravel roads were maintained by spraying tar on the old gravel and then spreading new gravel on top. The tar helped the new gravel "stick." One summer afternoon not long after we moved to Bettendorf, we encountered a road crew refreshing Utica Ridge Road near home. Mom saw the "Wet Tar" sign and the road crew. Most folks were turning around but her unfamiliarity with the area, the tarring process and the close proximity to home probably played a large part in her decision. Mom decided to keep going - past the road crew waving frantically at her! Mom decided to go faster - after all the road crew was waving at her to do so. Or at least she thought so!

I knew we were in trouble when we hit the end of the gravel road and encountered pavement. The Cuda's tires sounded like they were driving through sticky warm caramel. We pulled into the driveway and got out. Oh the damage! There were giant sprays of tar behind each wheel and up the side of the car. Mom's upper lip quivered in remorse.

I don't remember the conversation between my mom and dad when he returned home that week. I am sure mom sent us down to the basement and closed the pocket door. I do remember my father spent the entire weekend next to his beloved with a can of kerosene and a pile of rags. I also remember that weekend as one of the few times I wasn't my father's shadow. I am sure Mom knew Dad needed to be alone!

The Smell of Money

My first memory of our family's move to Iowa:

When I was 8, we moved from a suburb of Detroit to Bettendorf, Iowa. Bettendorf is one of 4 cities which make up the Quad Cities along with Davenport, Rock Island and Moline. Bettendorf in the late 60's was the smallest by far.

We drove in the family car from Detroit to Bettendorf. I remember my dad pointing out when we crossed over the Mississippi River into Iowa. My sister and I were very excited to catch a glimpse until we realized how high up we were! About a mile further down the interstate, it hit us like a ton of bricks. I looked at my sister and she looked at me and at the same time we asked our father, "WHAT IS THAT SMELL?"

I can still see my father's amused look in the rearview mirror as he explained, "That is the smell of money in Iowa!" You see, we had passed our first pig farm in Iowa and pork is prince there! As we passed farm after farm on the short leg of the trip to our new home, my sister and I alternated turns at "Peeee-Uuuuu!" My father just kept driving with a very big grin on his face.

It was dark last Friday night when I crossed over Old Man River from Illinois. I caught myself cracking the car window just a bit. I had to be sure. Yep, I was in Iowa!

Egg Salad in Iowa

I was in Davenport, Iowa this past weekend for an agility trial. I enjoy the Quad Cities and try to show there at least once a year. My family lived in Bettendorf for 4 very wonderful years. It was a happy place for us and I know all the family remembers those years fondly. I thought I would share with you a few Iowa memories in honor of the fine time I had there this past weekend!

I was 8 when we moved to Bettendorf. Our home was located in a small subdivision - about 10 houses when we moved in. Our bus stop was the first stop on the country bus route. Most of the kids who rode our bus were farm kids and those same kids constituted the majority of my friends. Nancy Holden lived about 2 or 3 stops down the road. I really liked Nancy as she had ponies. It didn't matter to me they were nasty and too old to be ridden. She had ponies! Like most eight year old girls, I would have traded my sister away for a horse or pony.

One house further down the route lived a petite blonde haired girl with horn rim glasses. Her name was Rosalyn Carter (no relation to Jimmy's wife). Rosalyn and Nancy were friends primarily because they had lived close together in the country all their lives. There friendship was one of convenience but at 8 or 9, I didn't see it that way. Rosalyn was competition for a very special friend (remember Nancy had ponies!).

So I wasn't particularly nice to Rosalyn. I wasn't cruel to her, I just didn't like her. But there was one thing I absolutely hated about Rosalyn - her lunch. Everyday she brought egg salad sandwiches to school. Her parents raised chickens and as I have learned from my daughter's chicken experiences, sometimes there are just too many eggs. I am sure Rosalyn's mother saw school lunches as a perfect opportunity to use up those cracked eggs she couldn't sell. I have always been a odor sensitive and those egg salad sandwiches were an affront to my sensitive smeller! If I wanted to sit next to Nancy, who always let Rosalyn sit with us, I had to smell those sandwiches everyday. Yuck! I can even remember asking Rosalyn if she couldn't bring PB&J for lunch just once!

At the agility trial this past weekend, the competitors were raving about homemade food the club was selling. When lunchtime rolled around, I decided maybe I would see what they were serving. Chicken noodle soup - too hard to get back to my chair through a crowd. Pulled pork sandwich - pig - YUCK! Oh, great, one more option and it was.....you guessed it.....Egg Salad Sandwiches! I checked around for Rosalyn! I guess somethings in Iowa haven't changed in 40 years!

I opted for the chicken noodle soup but not before sharing my story with the lunch ladies!

Champion? The why.

All the time I get questions when I tell co-workers I am headed off for a weekend dog show. Some times the reply is just a nod of the head and an "Okay." Sometimes I get grilled with questions. Here's my explanation of why I show my dogs in conformation.

Dogs at AKC conformation shows are judged individually by their breed against a breed standard. Every breed has a standard which defines the perfect dog and bitch of that breed. Structure, coat, head, gait, color, and even temperament are listed. Conformation is about breeding the most correct animal possible so all entries at a conformation show are unaltered. No spayed or neutered dogs are allowed.

Most people at a show will tell you that conformation is the juding of breeding stock. I am not all that interested in breeding but I show because I want verification that I have a conformationally correct dog. If my corgi is judged to be a champion, he or she is built to work. Corgis are, after all, a working breed. I have never had any really serious physical problems with my corgis while I compete in performance events and I want it to stay that way.

Conformation is also important to me in that my puppies get exposed to noisy places with lots of other dogs. I believe I am asking for behaviors any performance prospect should be able to handle at that age: walk on a leash, show minimal manners around other dogs, stand on a table while a stranger touches them, and concentrate on me when I have delicious treats! If a pup can't handle the conformation ring, there is no way he will progress well to an agility or obedience ring.

I have discovered that the two cardi's I have that finished their championships, Red and Panache, are very consistent in the ring. Nothing seems to grab their attention away from the task at hand - completeing the agility course. Red occassionally does like how close the judge approaches but he is exhibiting a breed quality mentioned in the Cardigan standard - "reserved with strangers." He is at the high end of "reserved" but I cannot fault him for being a Cardigan.

That is this performance person's explanation of why. The how is next.

It's a major!

Smoky and I ventured up to Milwaukee this past weekend with my friend Jean and her cardi Cricket for a conformation show. I was quite excited when the judging schedule came and I discovered it was a 4 point major for the boys. I went up with the mind set that I only wanted to win one day - kind of a "share the love" mentality. Most of the people showing are friends and are wonderful people so there is no good purpose to being overly competitive, right?

Well, Smoky got reserve Winners Dog on Saturday and I pouted! He is only 8 months old, in the youngest puppy class, wouldn't stand on the table and I pouted because I didn't win. Come on, Sue, get a life.

Sunday, when I opened up the car to get Smoky unloaded, I found him shaking like a leak. I almost freaked out myself but then I settled down. I had to for Smoky. I reminded myself that we had gotten to the show really early which is what I like to do. I studied the judge and how he ran his ring. I bought Smoky some more liver for bait and treated him to a doggy cupcake from a vendor. I told him we are going to have a good time at this dog showing stuff! I managed to convince myself and Smoky!

We were the first cardi in the ring and won our class - but we had done that the day before. When we went in for Winners Dog, Smoky showed like it was Westminster! He free stacked beautifully, he moved like a dream and I grinned like a fool when the judge pointed at us.

(Please don't notice I was holding his ribbons upside down!)

When it came for Best of Breed, Smoky decided he had had enough and pulled all the typical Cardi tricks. He snagged a huge hairball on the first go around the ring, and spent half the trip around trying to shake it out of his mouth. He then decided to leap over the tape which was holding down the mats in every corner of the ring. He also did not want any more liver, thank you very much! Is it any wonder he didn't get Best of Breed or Best of Winners?

So far, after 4 days of showing, Smoky has won twice and has 6 points including a major. Well on his way to the total of 15 needed to finish his championship. Way to go Smoky!