This weekend was a whirlwind trip to Laramie and back. Brent, Brink, and I left early Saturday morning. We loaded up Brent's car until it was about to pop and then stuffed Brink in the back seat. Brink always gets the shaft in space when it comes to camping trips, but I always assure him it will be worth it in the long run. I had to snap a picture of him squished in the back seat. He's not as squished as he appears. He had half the seat but wanted to keep his head near us. I think he was trying to earn himself some sympathy. He got it. He's a great pup - can't say it enough!!
The trip to Laramie was nice. Most everything is still pretty green, which is rare considering it's almost the 4th of July. As we drove, we pointed to the left and to the right at all of the places that would be nice to one day stake our claim. We passed the Beverly Hillbillies on the way ....
It was nice to drive into Laramie again. I told Brent it felt a lot like going home. It's a quaint little town full of fond memories. So much has changed but also very little in the time that we've been gone from Laramie. New hotels, restaurants, and shops have opened up around campus, which itself has had some major renovations. Sleepy old Laramie still exists. People move at a slightly slower pace. The speed limit through town is still 30. That seems like a snail's pace compared to Ft. Collins.
Brent and I picked up McDonald's and headed to our first stop - Greenhill Cemetery!! We ate our breakfast while sitting in the car in the cemetery. The things Brent will do for me. HA! The history geek, genealogist in me was squeeing with delight. I grabbed my map and plot notes and we headed down the path between sections. Brinkley needs to work on his cemetery etiquette, but I'll cut him some slack as he'd just spent an hour and half crammed in the back of a Civic.
We reached the end and headed back towards the car on the other side of the section. Searching... searching... and finally found what we came for...
This, obviously, is the headstone for Daniel Joesiah Allen. Daniel was my great-grandfather's brother. His story has been haunting me over the last year or so. I started digging into my family history after graduation last spring. That's when I found Daniel. He was one of Laramie's hometown boys. He was born on the outskirts of town. He was hardworking, well-known around town, and over the years tried to make a name for himself as a rancher. He purchased some ranch land of his own but was called to the service of his country shortly after.
He left small town Laramie for the countryside of France as a doughboy in The Great War. He was a cook traveling unprotected with the kitchen wagons. He was killed in the middle of the night by shrapnel from a German bomb. His tentmate and fellow Laramie boy held him in his arms as he died from the wounds to his head. It wasn't until 1921 that his body was finally returned to Laramie, which shut down for his funeral.
There's much more to the story, but that's it in a nutshell. When I found out that he had been buried in Laramie I added the visit to Greenhill Cemetery to my ever growing To Do list. I also took pics of the headstone for Daniel's brother Melvin, who murdered his girlfriend and then committed suicide. Was he tormented by his service in WWI, distraught over the loss of his brother, or just plain crazy? And near the two of them was Esther Allen, the second wife of their father.
Anywho...geneology rant over... we headed east out of Laramie towards our campsite. Brent played radio with the Laramie amateur radio club guys while I plopped a chair near a tree down the road and worked on an article that I've been dragging my feet on. Then it rained a while. Brinkley found it unsettling to be stuck in a tent while the skies boomed all around us with thunder.
There's much more to the story, but that's it in a nutshell. When I found out that he had been buried in Laramie I added the visit to Greenhill Cemetery to my ever growing To Do list. I also took pics of the headstone for Daniel's brother Melvin, who murdered his girlfriend and then committed suicide. Was he tormented by his service in WWI, distraught over the loss of his brother, or just plain crazy? And near the two of them was Esther Allen, the second wife of their father.
Anywho...geneology rant over... we headed east out of Laramie towards our campsite. Brent played radio with the Laramie amateur radio club guys while I plopped a chair near a tree down the road and worked on an article that I've been dragging my feet on. Then it rained a while. Brinkley found it unsettling to be stuck in a tent while the skies boomed all around us with thunder.
The evening pot luck barbeque around the campfire was delicious. As usual, Brinkley impressed the crowd by his good behavior and good looks! Someone even won over my heart by bringing S'more fixins!!
On Sunday I let Brink off his leash to run around. He would take off at a trot through the woods, sniffing trees and checking branches for squirrels. A few minutes later he would come busting back through the woods towards camp like someone lit his tail on fire. The doggie smile on his face was huge! He was so happy! When we left, he slept all the way home. And for another 16 hours after that. If I didn't have go to work on Monday, I probably would have joined him!! Great weekend!
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