Entertainment, Branson Style.

The "show" is the heartbeat of Branson Entertainment. Most revolve around singing, some involve dance, comedy, magic, martial arts, acrobatics, etc. We saw this family today. There are a lot of "family" groups in Branson. They have a certain similarity to them.

They range in numbers anywhere from a handful to a small village. One group we saw a couple years ago was a Mormon family. Five brothers, all singers, all married, all with many children. By the end of the show there was at least 50 people on the stage.

The whole family works the show. They work hard and are extremely talented. Like them or don't like them you can't argue with their talent. They work every aspect of the production. Ticket sales, and ushering and clean up. Some have hotels and diners and clean rooms and serve food. The "stars" aren't pampered or untouchable. There are 100 others shows in town just like them and they can't afford to be unapproachable or to rest on their accomplishments. I'm not sure they work any harder than average folks with 9-5 jobs but I think of the lack of talent and mind numbing "success" in these ladies:


...compared to the talent I've seen in Branson.





































The entire family is worked into the show. They all seem to be able to sing and play 30 instruments, no matter how large the family. I've often wondered as I watch a show what happened if one of the kids doesn't want to pursue the music/entertainment industry. I imagine the conversation would go something like this:

Child: Mom, Dad, there is something I want to discuss with you. I've been thinking about it for a while.

Mom/Dad: Yes, what is it?

Child: I know I come from a family of entertainers. And I know music has provided us with many opportunities, but I've decided it isn't for me. Instead I want to go to school and become a Doctor.

(Awkward silence)

Mom/Dad: (pausing to regain composure, conjure up support) Why? Didn't we raise you to be better than that? We always told you to find your own path, and make your own choices but what we meant was you could choose the french horn over the fiddle. A Doctor? (Dad looks to Mom) But what will we tell our friends?



There is also ALWAYS a tribute to the armed forces. It isn't optional. Every show works a military tribute into the line up. The most awkward one I saw was a show featuring a family of Native Americans. The main singer was full blood Native American and was adopted as an infant and didn't find out until he was an adult (after both parents died) that he was Native American. He reconnected with his birth family now tours with his daughter and several members of his tribe, performing Native American music and dance.
If ANYONE should get a pass from the military tribute it should be a group of Native Americans! With as lousy as our military and government has treated Native Americans I would think their tribute would consist of a defiant fist, with perhaps one raised finger......but they came up with a tribute. It mostly consisted of reporting on military involvement on the part of Native Americans in recent wars. (The Navajo Wind Talkers in WW2)




While waiting in line today to get tickets there was a member of the Brett family's road crew. His back was to me and I could see the cities in the "2011 Brett Family Tour". I scanned the list and saw.....New Castle, Wyoming. I have family in New Castle (hey Kristin!) and while it has been a while since I've been to New Castle, I remember it being quite small. I've never seen it listed in a tour schedule. We asked him about being in New Castle. He right away responded excitedly with, "Oh yeah, New Castle! It was this little place out in the middle of no where. No cell phone reception but man did they have good omelets. Wonderful omelets with steak in them. I want to go back to New Castle just to get another omelet." Well now... Of all the things I thought he'd talk about, omelets would have been way down on the list.

What say you, Kristin? Is there a restaurant in New Castle with really great omelets?

Pay Dirt.

I am on vacation in Branson, Missouri. A place with so much natural beauty is almost hurts to view it. A place where being 40 makes me a youngster. Branson is where old entertainers go to retire. Las Vegas for the over 80 crowd.

The day started in Indy at 4:00 AM. In a stroke of luck that could not be planned my departing flight left IND at 7:05. My BIL, Jake, was leaving for a missions trip and his flight left at 7:00. The entire house was up and bustling by 4:30 AM. There was time for me to see Jake's team checking luggage and taking care of last minute passport information. I then headed off to my gate to begin my journey.

After an uneventful flight I touched down in Kansas City and waited for my parents to meet me (driving down from Omaha). I got to spend some quality time in the Kansas City Airport. When looking out the windows your eyes are not sure what to make of the massive tarmacs, with gigantic airplanes coming and going and nestled just behind the concrete are acres and acres of.....grazing cows and farmland. Only in the Midwest!

While heading south of Kansas City some of our time was passed on the phone with Jami who excitedly relayed the story of mechanical trouble with the plane Jake was on which caused the airport to swap out planes--only it was a smaller plane. Passengers were being bumped and 11 members of his team made it on. The trouble being that there were 12 members, and number 12, Jake, didn't have a seat. He stood in the airport, completely alone, trying to figure out how to meet up with his team. One by one stand by passengers names were called. He realized he had all of the team's cash in his backpack. Finally, his name was called. The very last person to get a seat...

Meanwhile we were having to make our own important decisions. Namely where to eat lunch. We hadn't seen too many options for a while so when the first place popped up we headed towards it, despite the fact that it was an A/W Root Beer and Long John Silver. At the very last second as we were turning in I saw what could have been the letters "BBQ" on a building. We turned the car around, and found this:






Hopefully, the money they saved in repairs and upkeep was spent in food. We walked in and it was a tiny, little room with 10 or 12 tables, dark brown paneling, and a handful of customers. We seated ourselves and a pleasant woman approached the table. No uniform or name tag. She said today's special was chicken and something or other and....(I kind of zoned out).....everything is homemade and the mashed potatoes are peeled and mashed by hand. My attention was back. Ah. Pay dirt. We had hit pay dirt. I knew it. And I was right. A few thing were pre-made(buns and chips), but the rest was made from scratch. There was nothing fancy about the presentation. White plates. Serving sizes that were in line with what the average human should consume and not the mega portions we are used to from most restaurants--and the prices reflected portion size. Dessert was homemade coconut cream pie with homemade crust. It was amazing.





I've heard that if you are in an unfamiliar town and do not know where to eat to observe where the locals go. The locals went here. Really. Aside from our table and one other table EVERYONE knew each other. As one customer entered the waitress simply said, "today is the noodles". He nodded and seated himself. In one corner there was a group of people that could have perhaps been the Dukes of Hazzard, 30 years later after neglecting their dental work, hair care and all attention to fashion. Uncle Jesse was there, as were Bo and Luke. Daisy joined them at one point--the years hadn't been kind to her. They were loud and happy and very much enjoyed their fellowship around the table....and with everyone else that entered. Not being at their table was not seen as a reason not to visit with others.

It was a great find.

Up the road a bit we stopped at Gordon's for some peaches. I think their editors were on vacation this week. There was a sign advertising home "growen" tomatoes. There was also this sign I noticed as we were paying for the peaches:



I was so confused. Are they lucky because if you purchase two you might only pay $.25? If you ask for one do they make you take two? How would pricing work for three? Does this special make sense and I just don't get it?







The view from our table at supper.



This view is why I enjoy Branson. If I have to drive past the Osmond Brothers and Mel Tillis to get there, so be it!

Sometimes you have to know when to break the rules.

Tonight I went outside to water my plants--a job that by this point in the summer has long since lost its glamour. I've got my ipod going, with the ear buds firmly in place, paying no attention to my surroundings. I bend over to turn on the faucet, with my eyes down, happily lost in the book-on-cd I've downloaded and I hear......."Meow?". I swear. If a cat can form the sound meow to come out in the form of a question, this one did.

My first thought is that it is one of my cats and I can hear her through the window. Nope. My second thought is that one of my cats scooted out the door with me. Nope. I look around to see the source and find this:



Only it wasn't resting on the ground. It was stuck on a cat's head. (I've met this cat once before. I was watering my flowers and turned around and there she was. When she saw me she flopped down, exposing her belly, wanting to be petted. I obliged. We exchanged pleasantries and she was off.) The question I heard in the "Meow?" seemed now to say...."Could you help me out? I seem to have gotten myself into a situation here and I'm not sure what to do."

I froze. I had no idea how much distress this kitty was in. I'm a little surprised as I think back over the situation how quickly I took in the bizarre scene, triaged what she needed and acted. My first instinct was to rush towards her but if I knew if I did she might run. I made myself slowly walked towards her. I didn't want to grab the bag until I knew I had a good hold on it, because if she took off who knows if she would have gotten help before suffocating. Without a lot of drama or fuss she let me approach her, grab the bag and tug it off.

She still didn't bolt, so the next thing to check on was if she wanted some comfort. When I petted her she leaned in to my touch. Relaxed. Closed her eyes a little. Safety and comfort taken care of I noticed how thin she was. I know the first rule of stray cats is to never feed them because they'll just come back. I know. I know. I know. I kept seeing the image of this poor kitty with no one to love her, having to scavenge for food, ending up with a bag of cheese stuck on her head trying to feed herself. To heck with the rules.

I rushed in my house, grabbed a Tupperware bowl and a handful of cat food and rushed back out. To say she inhaled it would be an understatement. Poor thing. She was starved. I watched her eating and started mentally going through the steps it would take to get her cleaned up and make her mine. Vet visit, shots, declaw, introducing her to the other cats......but my plans were short lived. I let her finish her meal in peace and when I came back she was gone. I wondered briefly if she is part of a kitty grifter ring and the "head stuck in the cheese bag" was her go-to grift. I could hear her boasting to her kitty friends, "Heh. Heh. I swear it works every time. Walk up to a human with something stuck on your head and you should see how fast the food comes flying out!"

She may be back. She might not be. Either way she was brave enough to ask for help, and I was there to provide it.

Here you go, Sharon! :-)

I've told this story several times and it still hasn't gotten old, so I figure it is worth blogging. My mom and I recently had a conversation that went something like this:

Mom: "I got a response from something I put on Craig's List and let me see if you think this is somehow a scam."

Me: "If you have to ask it probably is."

Mom: "Someone is interested in your Dad's laptop and they want to know if I'll take Paypal. They also say that for my trouble they'll pay me $120 more than my asking price."

Me: "Ah. Total scam. We see this kind of thing at work a lot. Next thing he'll ask you to go out and buy two cameras, keep one for yourself, charge him for the whole thing and send it overnight to Nigeria regardless of the cost of shipping."

Mom: "Why would he offer to pay more than my asking price"

Me: "Because he is paying with a stolen credit card and doesn't care what he pays because--he's not paying for it. Best thing to do is just drop it. Don't write him back, just be done. Did he write in all caps and call himself something that is supposed to sound vaguely American like MR. KEVIN or MRS. SYLVIA?"

Mom: "Well....he signed it Paul McCartney."

There you go. This is where the scammer's sometimes clever plot falls apart. They sort of, but do not quite know how to blend in culturally. A friend at work thought they should have tried Bart Simpson. Princess Diana and Michael Jackson would have been just as effective.