That is one good thing about this world…there are always sure to be more springs. ―L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
Heading West from Sioux Falls—March 15th
Main Street—Montrose March 20th
I’ve started taking alternative routes whenever I’m in South Dakota. I wanted to see Montrose where my great-grandmother’s family lived. I recently found this book in my grandfather’s library. To see Lottie Eno’s signature inside a college textbook was thrilling. We attended the same college…once Sioux Falls Academy, then Sioux Falls College (when I attended). Now it is the University of Sioux Falls.
Lottie and Lowell Lillibridge 1898
Main Street—Colome March 21st
On my way to the Burke Stampede Rodeo Gala—March 22nd
East of Burke—Sunday afternoon March 23rd
The long empty roads, Sullen fires of sunset, fading, The eternal, unresponsive sky.
My focus (obsession) continues to be my paternal great-granduncle, author & Sioux Falls, South Dakota dentist—William Otis Lillibridge 1879-1909. His 1905 book, Ben Blair was turned into a silent film in 1916, seven years after his death. His widow, Edith Keller Lillibridge was instrumental in getting the film made by Paramount.
I’ve sort of adopted my Uncle Will as my muse…a fellow creative. Reading his work and researching his life has made him feel quite real to me. I’ve learned a lot about his parents, siblings, the home he grew up in on the border of the Dakota Territory in Akron, Iowa, and his life in Sioux Falls. NOTE: I went to college in Sioux Falls and never knew his dental office was down the block from one of our favorite restaurants, Minerva’s.
“As everywhere upon the prairie, the quiet was almost a thing to feel.”—Ben Blair
We certainly have a shared love of the prairie. Maybe he would approve of me recasting myself in his film just for fun…or possibly find no humor in these images whatsoever. From what I’m learning, he seems like he was a rather serious fellow. However, with no one left one to ask, I’m left with little to base my hunches on.
BEN BLAIR—ACT I
The Sanity of the Wild
…in the warm sunny plat south of the barn, a small boy and a still smaller girl were engaged in the fascinating occupation of becoming acquainted. The little girl was decidedly taking the initiative.
…she had an independence, a dominance, born perhaps of the wild prairie influence, that at times made her parents almost gasp.
…bleared faces and keen hawk-like eyes were more closely drawn. The dull rattle of poker chips lasted longer, frequently far into the night, and even after the tardy light of morning had come to the rescue of the sputtering stumps in the candlesticks.
Florence touched his arm. “Ben,” she pleaded,
“Ben, forgive me. I’ve hurt you. I can’t say I love you.”
