Last respects

From left, me, Beardog Bob, and National Park Ranger Anne Wilson at the 60th anniversary celebration of Agate Fossil Beds National Monument on June 7, 2025.

The drive north on Highway 29, was a somber one. My mind was elsewhere and I didn’t take note of the weather. A good storyteller would have remembered to do that, but I didn’t today.

Thirteen miles north of Mitchell, Nebraska, is the spot where a proposed fracking wastewater dump site was going to be. The locals won in court and prevented it from happening. On any other day, I smile and remember the many stories my editor and I wrote on the issue. We traveled a lot for those stories. Today, however, it made me sad. I don’t write those types of stories anymore, but I miss the camaraderie and the desire to write the truth of those days that seem so long ago.

I watched several hawks flying above the highway and over my car. It’s difficult for me to tell whether it’s a red-tailed hawk or a Swainson’s hawk when they are in flight. I saw them on telephone poles as well. I can’t tell which is which then either. It’s okay though. Life goes on and birds do their bird things even if I can’t remember their identities.

Memories drifted in and out of my head as I drove along the lonely highway. Whenever I’d go to Agate Fossil Beds National Monument, I tried to make a point to pop into the visitors center to have a chat with National Park Ranger Anne Wilson. We would talk about a variety of things, including how many stops I made along the way to take pictures and where on Agate’s property I had hiked that day.

My camera was in its bag, resting on the passenger seat. It didn’t feel right to use it today, despite the beauty of the landscape, the cattle, and the hawks. These things usually bring a smile to my face, but, today, I did the stupid thing of saying, “hi, bird,” and “hi, cow,” waving at them like a lunatic from my car.

Thoughts of my grandma laughing and saying something like, “you know they don’t speak English, right?” came to my mind. It was almost like she was trying to tell me to learn their language and then speak to them, like she knew something I didn’t. I still miss her, and her dry humor and warm hugs.

About five miles from Harrison, I got stuck behind a small train of cars. They were all traveling exactly the speed limit. The New Yorker in me wanted to tromp on the gas and fly past them. My guess, which was proved right a few minutes later, were that the people in the cars were headed to the same place as me – The United Methodist Church in Harrison.

I don’t believe in any god, but I make exceptions for stepping into their buildings. Today, I made an exception for Anne.

National Park Ranger Anne Wilson shows me how to rope a steer before encouraging me to try it myself during the 60th anniversary celebration of Agate Fossil Beds National Monument on June 7, 2025.

There was a line to enter the church. Just inside the door, I accepted a piece of paper about the day’s services from a man, who directed me to sign the guest book. As I waited in another line to see Anne, I watched two ladies hug. One of them said, “We knew we wouldn’t have her forever, but it took her so fast.”

I felt a knot in my throat and quickly looked down at the ground to recompose myself before proceeding forward to see Anne. The shell I saw was not Anne. I quickly affixed my gaze to the big picture of her on the television screen and gathered myself back together before turning around to walk away.

Another gentleman was showing people to their seats, so I asked if I could sit in the last row. He responded, “Of course.” It’s a phrase that’s become popular in the last half decade. It replaces every short answer from “yes” to “you’re welcome.” Everyone instantly knows what it means.

I took my seat on the chair, one of six placed behind the last row of pews in the church. There were people in another room as well. I didn’t count everyone, but at least 200 people showed up to see Anne one last time.

My friend, Jason, sat in the back of the church with me. His husband and my friend, AJ, sat with the other pall bearers. We stood and sat, as instructed, and listened to the words of the minister. There were songs, or hymns, but I didn’t sing. I looked at the stained glass windows and the architecture and thought about what a fine building it was.

AJ offered to drive me to the cemetery once the service was concluded. More words were said. I thought how nice it is that Anne can rest forever under a beautiful tree. The famous Nebraska wind was on display. My eyes couldn’t tear because there was so much sand kicked up into them.

Anne during a 2019 fossil program at Agate Fossil Beds National Monument.

A lunch, nay feast, was provided at the VFW. As I waited in line and tried to see what the two dozen dishes were, I thought to myself, Anne would approve. I spent many Boxing Days at Agate to celebrate a little bit of history and to come together for a few hours with strangers in joyous celebration and conversation. There was always food then, too.

As I left Harrison and headed south back toward Scottsbluff, I thought of all the things Anne taught me over the years. I was always enthralled with her stories, her humbleness, and her willingness to share her knowledge to anyone willing to listen.

She left an indelible mark on everyone in her life. Over and over I heard how she always had a smile on her face. Anne was one of the kindest people I know. She believed deeply in her faith and was someone I would point to as an excellent example of what a christian should be. She never judged me for not believing in her god, or any god. She never looked down on me and was always willing to listen to whatever I blathered on about. We had wonderful conversations.

I may not have known her as well as others, but that doesn’t matter. She told me it did not matter not long after Lil’s funeral. Anne taught me it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone and don’t compare that relationship to anyone else’s.

Park Rangers Anne Wilson and AJ Legault learn beading from HarmonyStar Straub, an Oglala Lakota artist from Crawford, Nebraska during an event at Agate Fossil Beds National Monument on Nov. 9, 2024.

Anne lived and breathed kindness and compassion. Whenever I had a question, she helped me to answer it or find the answer if she didn’t already know. I will never forget standing next to the famous painting of Red Cloud and listening to her relay the story of how it was painted and how she learned about it from Lil. When she was finished, she said, “do you know about this pipe?” and pointed toward the display case. I did not. We talked for about an hour. I soaked up everything she was teaching me.

I’m still not good with paying last respects, but then, how do you say goodbye when there are so many memories left behind?