A DAY IN PRATT, KANSAS

TODAY: Pratt, Nebraska to Medicine Lodge, Nebraska (35 miles)

Today was an easier day, being Saturday.  I had pushed hard all week and decided to take a few days of lower mileage to rest my muscles.  Nearly every night this week I poured over maps and mileages to get to the final itinerary listed below . . . plus my doodling while I was on the phone.  

The pictures in this post come from Pratt, Kansas.  Jack Spratt could eat no fat, but Caleb Pratt could count the beans. (pictured below).  Caleb Pratt was a prominent figure in a settlement in the Kansas territory during the mid-1800s..  He testified before Congress for "voting irregularities" in the Kansas elections of 1855. (So, apparently contesting elections and voter fraud has been going on for some time!) 

So, as a bean counter, he was elected as the county and city clerk.  But when the Civil War erupted, Caleb Pratt enlisted and served as Second Lieutenant of Company D of the Kansas 1st Infantry Regiment.  Less than two months later, Pratt fell during the Battle Wilson's Creek in Greene, Missouri.  Thus, in honor of this patriot and bean counter, the settlement was named "Pratt" in his honor.

After getting cleaned up and some desk work done, I went out to taste the local culinary color.  I landed in a wonderful Mexican cantina and took my supper at Cancun Mexican Grill.  The restaurant was packed with people, high volume of white noise, and over all the din, energizing Mexican music pulsated.  I sat across from a seniorita, who smiled politely at me while I ate  with one of those Mexican Mona Lisa smiles.  Halfway through my burrito I realized that she was a portrait painted across the booth.  Still, I don't like people or portraits watching me while I eat. 

Hey, your back tire is pretty low!  The voice came from behind me.   I'd  seen him earlier in the morning having a smoke.  We'd nodded to one another's existence as we passed.  The guy looked to be in his mid-30's.  He wore a beater shirt and sported thick, coal black hair.  I tried to read his tats unobtrusively and noticed a large cross that though it lacked the finesse of the Twisted Raven caliber, it boldly displayed this preeminent Christian symbol.  Your back tire is almost flat.  So, I braked and put the kickstand down.  We both felt the tire and sure enough, it was squishy.  You've got seven pounds of air in that tire, he said after we used a tire air-gauge.  Fortunately, Mark Wilson had lent me his pneumatic air pump and we got the tire back up to 34 pounds.  During that time I found out that his name was Shane and that he and his wife were from up the road in Kansas.  We're fishing.  Caught a small-mouth bass yesterday.   But I told him of the trout up in Idaho where I live and he responded, I like catfish.  Then I said, "Shane, I'm a priest, a minister, and I'd like to remember you in prayer today.  What can I pray for?"   Norma can out of his mouth without dropping a beat.  Please pray for my aunt Norma.  She's got her arteries blocked all over the place.  So I prayed for Norma and continue to pray for Norma.  More for her real heart to have God's new heart in her before she leaves us..  "Hope you catch a lot of fish today," I yelled out to him.  And he said, Be safe!  They're crazy drivers out there!  Duly noted.