Branson Trip, Day Three

Wednesday, October 14



We got up at our usual 7:30 a.m. hour to get ready to go to the Veterans Memorial Museum. We arrived at the museum around 10 a.m., where we used the free tickets (valued at $13.50 each) given to us by our local radio station.

Just before we got there, a tour bus disgorged a large contingent of older veterans and their wives, so the museum was pretty crowded. The facility has ten rooms that trace the history of wars from WW I, WW II, Korea, Vietnam, Desert Storm, and others. Viewers cannot help but be overwhelmed and saddened by the thousands of names of America's sons and daughters killed in action in these wars, which are displayed on the walls in each room. One room contains a wall with tiny photos of faces of soldiers, with a plaque stating that each face represents two killed in WW I, and there are 62,000 faces displayed.

The museum also contains lots of artifacts, sculptures and murals. Among the artifacts are various examples of WW I trench art. These are fascinating art items made, most commonly, from large spent shell and bullet cases. The cases, made into decorative items, contain intricate and beautiful exterior carvings. Trench art was also created commercially following the war, as a way to recycle mountains of debris into souvenirs to be sold to tourists.

In one room, there is a massive bronze sculpture of 50 U.S. soldiers (see photo in previous blog). The museum's website states that the sculpture is 70 feet long and weighs 15 tons. It took the artist, Fred Hoppe, 10 months to complete, and is said to be worth three million dollars. It's an awesome work that makes the viewer gasp in admiration upon entering the room. We kept walking around and around it, studying its remarkable details.

The museum is also special for its exhibit cases of uniforms, photos, letters, etc., that tell the personal stories of various veterans, and for other exhibits, like the one displaying artifacts and information about the Navajo code talkers, and another about carrier pigeons that were so vital in WW I and WW II. The Navajo code talkers confounded the enemy in WW II, with a code that is virtually impossible to crack by anyone except another Navajo code talker.

The most disturbing room in the museum is one called "the spoils of war exhibit," filled with items captured from the enemy. Upon one wall is displayed an enormous battleship flag, with it's hated swastika symbol. A placard indicates, though, that the symbol, corrupted by the Nazis, is an ancient one once used in India, China, and even America. In the early 1900s, for instance, tourists loved to buy pots, jewelry and other items decorated with the swastika from Native Americans in New Mexico. Today, we are repulsed by the symbol.

This room also contains such artifacts as Herman Goering's tea set, and Eva Braun's hair brush. While all these items make a visitor's skin crawl, the most heart-wrenching exhibit is the photos of the bodies of Jewish people killed by the Nazis.

One woman seated outside the room refused to go in, feeling that to do so would be to condone the enemy. But a placard inside the door states that the museum has no sympathy for its WW II German and Japanese enemies, and the exhibit should not be taken as an endorsement of enemy beliefs. The museum recognizes that the artifacts are repugnant, and are displayed only for historical truth and as symbols of our triumph over evil.

At one point in our tour, I decided to retrace my steps back to the first room, to take a picture of a placard in the exhibit case containing a model of the USS Missouri battleship, because I was fascinated by the fact that it took 175 tons of blueprint paper to design the ship.

Anyway, Hubbie and we (with Mother in a wheelchair) got separated when I backtracked to the other room. I thought we'd seen everything, so I exited through the entrance door, but Hubbie was nowhere to be seen. So we left the wheelchair with an attendant and went to the gift shop. No Hubbie. I decided to search for him using the exit door (I don't think visitors are supposed to do this, since there was a rope across it, but I unhooked the rope while the gift shop employee wasn't looking and we went on in). There we discovered there were three rooms we hadn't toured yet. So we toured them. But we didn't see Hubbie. Finally, we turned around and went back out the exit and into the lobby. No Hubbie. I checked the truck. Nope. After a few minutes, Hubbie came into the lobby.

In front of a group of folks sitting on benches, he demanded, "Why didn't you tell me where you were going??!!. I looked for you everywhere!! And then I sat out here for ten minutes waiting for you!! I even sent a woman into the bathroom to see if something was wrong with you or your mother!!!."

This was an unexpected outburst from him, since he never raises his voice. I said nothing, but just followed him to the truck. Once in the truck, though, I told him I was embarrassed by his tirade against me in front of other people. I think I understand it, though. He was probably afraid I might have had a heart attack, or Mother had fallen ill. But it never occurred to me that he wouldn't notice me, slowly pushing Mother in a wheelchair, leave the room we were in. Guess from now on I'll have to be exceedingly careful that he knows where I am at all times. He could have saved himself a lot of grief, though, if he'd just thought to call me on my cell phone.

We headed back to camp, had lunch, and then went back into town for the "Comedy Jamboree" show, again using free tickets (valued at $40.31 each) given to us by our local radio station. This show features comedy, music (country, pop, rock, and gospel), and dance, and is entertaining enough. The show includes segments where the two comics enlist members of the audience to participate in their routines. We enjoyed it, even if we might not have gone without the free admission tickets.

When I made reservations for the show, I specifically asked for an aisle seat for Mother, since she doesn't like to be squeezed among folks, and it is easier for her to see the stage from an aisle seat. We got the seat we wanted, and the staff even kept the two seats in the row in front of Mother open. But a large lady, assigned to a seat in front of Hubbie, decided to move to the seat in front of Mother. So Hubbie and I got up to allow Mother to exchange seats with him.

Following intermission, the lady again decided to change seats...you guessed it, right in front of Mother. Again, we switched seats so Mother could be in one not behind this lady. I wanted to say something to the lady, like, "Can you please decide where you want to sit, so my 4'11" mother can sit somewhere besides behind you?"

The show lasted about two hours,, so we were back at camp by 4 p.m. Hubbie and I left Mother at the camper while we went to pick up the deli chicken from the grocery store, and stop at a filling station for diesel for the truck.

The chicken was good, served with boiled new potatoes, cream style corn, and wheat bread (bought in Corsicana, Texas, while we were there back in April). Later, we played Skipbo (Mother's very most favorite game, because it doesn't make her have to think). Hubbie won three games, I won two, and again Mother came up empty handed.