Martin and I woke up this morning and learned we are fugitives of the law. We received a flurry of texts from Amanda, who told us the German police were sent to our house (in Germany, of course) because one of the kids’ teachers reported our family as missing. Truancy is taken very seriously over there, with HUGE fines if you keep your kid out of school. It’s why we went to great lengths to get the schools’ official approval and documentation, permitting the kids to be out for this visit to the United States. But one teacher didn’t get the memo, and called the police without checking the front office.
So Martin and I made a flurry of international calls from our cell phones (OMG, those international rates!), trying to confirm our whereabouts and provide the proof that all is on the up-and-up. And I didn’t even had my butt-first coffee yet. Ughhhhhh.
We ended up resending the emails and a pic of the official letter to the school. Their response: “Oh, thanks! We forgot! All is well. Have a beautiful vacation!”
Once we received that non-apology apology, Miss C and I did what any proper fugitives of the law would do … we made a run for it. We stayed out for more than an hour this time, running the whole length of Madison’s riverfront, plus across the bridge to Kentucky and back.
I ran to the “Last of the Mohicans” soundtrack so I could imagine I was running to save Daniel Day Lewis’ Hawkeye after ordering him to just stay alive so I can find him.
Later, we met up with Nona for a late breakfast, and stopped at this graveyard (above) down in the valley outside Madison. Almost all the names are German. The oldest stones are from the early 1800s, and a lot of them are from 1937, which was also the year when a major flood devastated the area. So much history in just a small patch of land right off the highway
When we visited our ancestor’s village in the Black Forest back in Germany, the village’s official website had a page about all the families that fled the area and settled in the Ohio/Kentucky/Indiana river valley during the 1800s.
I bet I could trace some of these people buried here back to that region, to that village.
If only I had the time…