Chester Ray Stadium, Brookfield, Missouri

Nell White sits on the wooden bleachers at Chester Ray Stadium in the middle of the Brookfield faithful. Kickoff for the annual Bell Game rivalry between Brookfield High School and Marceline High School is still two hours away, but White is anxious. 

“I am sick to my stomach,” she said. “The Bell means a whole lot.”

She wears a blue T-shirt with “Brookfield High School” written in white letters. White also has two photo buttons pinned to her shirt. One is a picture of her daughter, Bulldogs cheerleader Tiffany White, and the other photo is of her son, Brookfield running back Dustin White.  

Dustin, a key contributor for the Bulldogs in their 14-13 Bell Game win in 2005, has looked forward to the contest since football camp started in the summer. 
Throughout the entire week, the White household has been preparing for the Bell Game – an annual maelstrom of football and tradition that feels like Homecoming and a state championship game all rolled into one.

Upper Limits Rock Gym, Bloomington, Illinois

Kate Ewing couldn’t stop to wipe the sweat out of her eyes. She was hanging by her fingertips on a vertical face nearly 65 feet above the ground.
No problem.

Ewing caught the rock-climbing bug on a mission trip to Morocco. Then a friend took her to the Upper Limits Rock Gym in Bloomington, Ill. – and she was hooked.
The gym, a converted grain silo, boasts some of the tallest climbs in the nation. The cylindrical inner walls, once buried in grain, are now spotted with multi-colored handholds.  

“I remember that first night – by the end of the night my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn’t even hold onto the wall,” she said. “I couldn’t grip the holds. It was like my mind wanted to keep climbing, but my body couldn’t.”

Since that day five years ago, she’s been back to the gym nearly 400 times.

“I just kind of kept climbing,” she said. “People come and go, but there seem to be the standard gym rats that are always there.

“The nice part about good climbers is the really good ones and the really passionate ones love to teach people how to climb. They’re really patient with you. They welcome you in.”

Rosenblatt Stadium, Omaha, Nebraska 

Bruce Henrickson sits with his two sons in the left-field bleachers at Rosenblatt Stadium on a beautiful June afternoon.

The three of them sit only 10 rows from the field, drinking in the University of Texas and University of Florida players warming up beneath them. Fans dressed in Longhorn burnt orange and Gator blue and orange fill in the seats around them, cheering on their players and teams.

In a few hours, Game 1 of the Div. I college baseball national championship will begin – and for the fourth time, Henrickson and his family have traveled from Grayslake, Ill., to Omaha, Neb., and paid only $8.50 to attend.

The national championship caps off the two-week event known as the College World Series, an eight-team tournament played every June.

“Rosenblatt comes close to echoing Wrigley Field,” Henrickson said. “The competition, the people and the atmosphere is what makes it great. I would be really upset if they ever moved the tournament from Rosenblatt.”

Over the past few years, Henrickson’s sons have chased batting practice home-run balls, met the 2004 national champion University of California St.-Fullerton players and held the CWS-winning trophy – but this day will yield a new memory.

Friday Night Jamboree, Rockbridge, Missouri 

A sandstone-colored ’94 GMC backs into the grassy parking lot, muffler growling, checkered race flags adorning the rear window. The blue-jean-clad driver hops out into the cool Ozark dusk, moving swiftly but unhurriedly toward the bed of the pickup. Dropping the tailgate, he reaches into the back and deftly removes a large, black object with an unmistakable shape.

A double bass.

It’s Friday night, and for some Southwest Missourians, that means only one thing: the weekly gathering at Athel Jackson’s barn – the Friday Night Jamboree.

Tucked away in the Ozarks – the definitive region that belongs to itself more than any particular state – jam sessions are a tie that links a rocky history to the rocky terrain.

Somewhere between hardship and dignity, with roots in religion and war, tradition emerges in the form of a distinct and sometimes ancient musical repertoire.

Over the past 10 to 20 years, the traditional Ozark jam session, centuries in the making, has experienced an inexplicable revival. Jam sessions fill old schoolhouses, barns and homes five nights a week across southwest Missouri. Yet, the passing of a generation threatens to bring an end or at least a decline in not only the music but also a way of life.

Underground Railroad, Alton, Missouri

Among the winding brick side streets and towering Victorian homes of Alton, Illinois, lies a silent railroad.

“There were about seven different lines of the underground railroad running through Alton at different times,” said Eric Robinson, a history professor at Lewis and Clark Community College who gives tours of the city’s most prominent historical sites.

Bordered by the Mississippi River, Alton is only 30 minutes from downtown St. Louis, and on a clear day the city skyline is visible from the crests of the hills. Of more interest, however, is the amount of history that exists in and around the spectacular views and stunning architecture in Alton.

Outside the Steiger Haus Bed and Breakfast, the cobblestone streets of St. Genevieve, Missouri, are silent. Late afternoon sunlight filters through lace curtains onto hardwood floors, illuminating an antique buffet and several bright landscape paintings.

The stillness is broken as the door opens and a small crowd of people filter in, filling the front room and moving back into a dining area with separate groups of tables and chairs. Dave Thompson, one of the first to enter into the sunlit sitting room, laughs and gestures to the staff, saying, “I’ll give someone 100 bucks to tell me who done it.” A few mysterious smiles light in response, but no one can answer.

Within the next few hours, he and the other guests at the bed and breakfast will take on different personas, enact a fictional art auction and witness deception, drugs and murder. By lunchtime the next day, they will have explained it all.

For the last 18 years, more than 55,000 guests from around the world have taken part in one of more than 72 murder mysteries written by the owner of Steiger Haus, Rob Beckerman, who writes under the alias J. Masterson.

Beckerman, who grew up in the original Steiger Haus location (at its peak, the murder mysteries were run out of three separate houses), converted the house into a bed and breakfast and was searching for a way to increase winter reservations when he heard of another hotel running murder mysteries for guests. So he wrote a mystery and tried it.

Despite the 20-degree weather, Kate Fuller and Kevin Michael couldn’t wait to get their hands on the ice.

As students at the Kirkwood Culinary Arts School at Kirkwood Community College in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, Fuller and Michael took instructions from Dave Dettman on how to make snowflake ice sculptures as part of the Winterfest in Amana, Iowa.

One of four major festivals at Amana, Winterfest began only three years ago, said Brenda Koehler, co-chair of the festival and manager of the Amana Society Main Street Complex.

“Winterfest really grew out of the hopes to create something to promote the Amana Colonies in the winter months and to let people know there are more things than shopping,” she said.

Indianapolis Motor Speedway, Indianapolis, Indiana

A high whine begins in the distance, reverberating in that place between the chest and the pit of the stomach. 

The smell of burning alcohol (used for fuel) hangs heavy in the air, alongside waves of heat. 

The speedway stands are silent.

The whine deepens a little, grows louder, and then those listening hear another chasing the first … then two … then 10.
Suddenly, an Indy car bursts into view of the Turn 1 bleachers and thousands of people surge to their feet with a roar.

Iowa State Fair, Des Moines, Iowa 

The Iowa State Fair is one of the biggest parties in the Midwest, belying Iowa’s traditional image of tranquil cornfields and laid-back citizenry.

“Describing it just doesn’t do it justice,” said Iowan Wendell Hall, 72. “I’ve been to the Illinois State Fair and the Florida State Fair, and they’re comparable to our county fairs. Ours is just a whale of a good time.”

Approaching the fairground can be overwhelming. From miles away, cars are parked in any spot available. Homeowners close to the fairground often sit outside their houses and offer their driveways to fairgoers for a price.

The Wonder Lake Water Ski Team, Wonder Lake, Illinois

Waves on the surface of Wonder Lake catch the light of the sunset, their sparkle dazzling the growing crowd of people on the grassy hill above the beach. In the midst of this natural splendor, Rihanna and Jay-Z — along with a stream of other Top 40 artists — rock the crowd from two giant speakers nestled on the beach’s sand. Nearby, groups of anxious spandex- and sequin-clad youths wait. The Wonder Lake Water Ski Show Team is minutes from its weekly performance.

Carrie Berner, a member of the ski team, described the tone of the event.