Twisting Topeka (14 page)

Opening my eyes I can instantly feel
the lingering dust in the air. A thin crusty layer coats my
eyelashes. My mouth, and my nostrils are dry and gritty. Although
it is uncomfortable, I have grown used to the feeling after all
these years. Most people either wear masks or hang wet sheets
around their bed to cut back on the dust while they sleep. I gave
up on this practice a while ago; just seemed pointless. The dust
always managed to find its way in to suffocate me while I
dreamed.

As I sit up in bed I look around the
dismal room. Even in the dim light I can see the tiny particles
floating in the air. Everything in the room has a light layer of
dust and grime coating. It is hard to remember when this wasn’t
normal, after five long years this has just became a way of
life.

I get up and look out the giant
picture window in my room. There was once a time when I could see
the Indian warrior upon the Topeka capitol dome but now he rarely
makes an appearance. Today seems still and calming. So maybe the
curtain of dust will fall to reveal the warrior with a deep blue
sky as his backdrop. That is, until the next storm blows in,
stealing him from view once again.

If you have never witnessed these
storms, I will admit they are fascinating and beautiful. They
appear like giant tidal waves rolling across the landscape,
stretching a mile into the air and canvassing every bit of
ground in sight. Sometimes they even come in different colors
depending on the winds carry them in. Grays, browns, blacks. I have
even seen a red storm once, but regardless of color, the storms all
act the same way. They grow, they move, until they engulf
everything around you. These storms can cause your house to vibrate
to the point where you think that everything is going to crash down
onto you. The dust attacks your eyes, burning more with each blink.
Then your mouth is attacked, drying it out. You try to spit out the
dirt and what comes out looks like tobacco juice, thick and brown.
Your lungs are then attacked, making it nearly impossible to
breathe. Then the dust steals the light. People don’t understand
darkness until they are in one of these storms. I remember one time
not being able to see my hand, only inches from my face. Needless
to say you don’t want to get caught outside in one of these storms.
Not only does the air feel like it is blown from a hot furnace, but
also the sand tears at your skin. There is a very real chance of
becoming disoriented even in the most familiar places, and if you
didn’t find shelter fast enough, you could very easily
suffocate.

After spending a few more seconds at
the window, I move on into my dining room. There are four places
set at the table even though I am alone. As I eat my breakfast of
stale bread and water, I try not to focus on how it feels like I am
chewing on sandpaper. Instead I look at the place settings with all
of the plates and glasses turned upside down. Yet another worthless
attempt to keep the dust at bay. Three of the settings used to
belong to my wife and two children. Now their chairs sit empty, I
miss them. For four year now those seats have sat empty. Four years
since they sat at this table with me but I know they are better off
back east with my parents. That was one of the hardest decisions to
make, one that caused several arguments between me and my
wife.

“
Just come with us,” she
would scream, or “How could you be so stupid?” That was usually
followed by her breaking down into tears.

During those times I could only hold
her. “It will be okay,” was all I could say. I guess at the time I
actually believed in what I was saying.

At first we all figured the drought
wouldn’t last, that we could tough it out, or that things would get
better. That was the reason I stayed. I wanted to ensure that when
all of this ended my family had a place to come back to. It was
amazing how quickly days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and
so on. Unfortunately no one could have foreseen that instead of
getting better, things would slowly get worse.

The Red Cross came in at the beginning
handing out masks, followed by other charities with food and water.
Even the government stepped in and tried to do what they could by
giving out canned food and some supplies. But none of those
resources lasted long. As the drought got worse and conditions
deteriorated, the help disappeared little by little until we were
on our own.

Then people began to get sick. Dust
pneumonia is what they called it. The pneumonia mostly affected the
very young and the very old, at least at first, but no one was
truly safe from the effects. How could they be with all the dust?
God only knew what else people inhaled on daily. This caused an
alarming number of deaths. That wasn’t the only reason people died.
Other diseases ran rampant. Without having proper medical care, a
simple infection could quickly kill.

I shake the thoughts from my head and
grab the shovel that I keep by the front door. I shimmy through a
window onto my front porch and look around. I can’t remember the
last time I could tell where my yard stopped and the road began.
Now everything is buried under several fine layers of sand and
dirt. Not that it matters. No one has had a running car for at
least three years now. The dust finally managed to choke the life
out of all of them. Now they just litter the sides of the
roads, half buried, like tombstones long forgotten. This pretty
much ensures that mine and anyone else’s escape is impossible. I
proceed to shovel a good foot of sand from my front porch. Finally
I am able to open my front door and return inside.

As I move into my living room I
crank-start a record player. Picking a random record without
looking, I blow off the dust and put it on the turntable. Music
begins to fill the darkness. I sit down in my old recliner and
light an oil lamp. I watch as the flame of the lamp dances in the
darkness, almost as if it is listening to the music as well. I
remember when all I had to do was flip a switch and I had
light. How we took that kind of simple thing for granted!
Electricity was a luxury that the storms also stole from us. As if
the dust wasn’t bad enough, choking every living thing; the static
electricity that came with the dry, unforgiving air wreaked havoc
on every electronic device. All the things we were sure we could
not live without now just sit in our houses like vintage
decorations from a better time. All televisions, computers, game
systems, and cell phones are nothing more than empty
shells.

I am lucky. Because of my job I
occasionally get to travel to locations that still have
electronics. I am what people call a ghost. The ghosts are those of
us who make the long journeys to neighboring states that weren’t
affected as badly as Kansas. Since most forms of transportation no
longer work, getting the many needed supplies is a very long and
difficult task. We don’t just go for supplies; we carry mail
between the community and the outside world. When we can, we also
gather information for the community. It’s amazing how simple news,
or a letter from a loved one, cheers everyone up.

It is always amazing how what used to
be a three-hour drive now takes weeks. It is extremely hard to
navigate without roads, especially at night when we do most of our
traveling. It is far too dangerous to travel during the day in the
beating sun and searing heat. Then there is always a chance of a
dust storm. Because of this the ghosts are well respected among the
population. Not only do we make it possible to survive, but each
time we leave for a supply run there is a very real chance we will
not return. There are several versions of how we got our name. Some
people say it is because we look like ghosts walking out in the
dust storms. Others say it is because each time we go out we are
already dead and it is our ghosts that come back. Either way, the
risk outweighs the necessity, and with the risk always comes
reward. I make a run every few weeks. It gives me a chance to speak
to my wife and children. A few times a year they come and see me.
Those times are tough. I want to just leave with them, just walk
away from all of this. I never have, regardless of how much I
wanted to. I know there are so many people counting on my return.
It is always a hard decision, but my wife and kids understand and
respected my dedication.

As the next song on the record begins
to play, I hear a low rumble of thunder far off in the distance. As
I get up and look out the window I see dark clouds forming. Perhaps
a storm is blowing in, probably not. The sounds of thunder are not
uncommon. Every few months you hear it, you will see some dark
clouds moving in and everyone gets their hopes up. People swear
they can feel the moisture in the air, the change in the winds.
Some even said they can smell and taste the rain. Maybe this time
the sky will open up and drench us with the rain we so desperately
need. It hasn’t rained since 2019 but maybe, just maybe, this storm
will be different. Maybe it will end this nightmare.

Briefly my attention is
brought back to the music in the background as the next song begins
to play. For a moment I hum to the melody. It is a familiar song,
one i haven’t heard in years. That is when I realize what song it
is. I instantly begin to laugh and think, “How messed up is that?”
Kansas
,
“Dust in
the Wind.”

A Library for Every Kid

S.R. Thompson

MAKE THE MOST OF YOUR
COMMUNITY

CJ EXTRA

SUNDAY, APRIL 10, 2016 – THE TOPEKA
CAPITAL-JOURNAL

----------Libraries Now Draw
Thousands----------

Branch libraries celebrate
24
^th
anniversary with special guest appearances and
interviews

By Lulu Lane

Special to The
Capital-Journal

There’s a reason patrons of all ages
can feel a party atmosphere around the branch library buildings all
over Topeka. Key historical players of the pre-Bond Vote days
recently took time to share their part in how branch libraries,
across Topeka, came to be rather than one city and county main
library.

April 10-16, 2016, is
National Library Week this year and the 24
^th
anniversary of one of the
most transformational votes in the history of Topeka and Shawnee
County. As a result, the theme of this year’s Library Week is
“Libraries Transform”. In the spirit of that theme, this reporter
will be bringing to our readership, in the next few days, daily
interviews from historical personalities to celebrate a turning
point in the history of libraries, politics, philanthropy, and
public service in our great corner of the state.

COLLINS PARK---April 10,
2016

[Central Topeka, neat
bungalow, in Collins Park area. Jane Wallabee was presiding mayor
during the years between 1988-1996 when the Library Bond Issue
first came up]

Q. Would you, please,
describe the days in the mayor’s office, leading up to the Bond
Issue vote?

Wallabee:
To describe those days, few words are needed.
Exciting! Heady! Creative!

The “old boy, backroom” organization
of running city politics was weakening; and I stepped into office
with a background in legislating  and networking that scanned
from Lawrence and Kansas City, eastward, to Salina in the west and
Emporia and Wichita to the south. Investors were interested in the
Capital City. The city council and I would come together and truly
listen and dream.

Q. What was your
vision?

Wallabee:
It was one of our biggest visions to make a
“corridor”, if you will, through the center of town—spanning from
Washburn University as one anchor (with the new university
president, Larry Farnsworth, seemingly cooperative and dreaming
with us) all the way to 10
^th
Street, with the Main
library as the other anchor. We envisioned a row of electric
lanterns down the whole length and central 10-block green
space—after we cleared it of residents, of course.  We planned
to work with developers from Lawrence and Kansas City to build
commercial and residential lofts, as part of it, all around
Washburn University.

Q. You did not have any
opposition to your plans?

Wallabee:
We expected some “push-back” but were unprepared
for those who stood in the way with their ideals—Joseph’s Bike
Shop, of course, but the residents themselves who had come to love
the Morton and Central Neighborhoods.

Q. But the Bond Issue Vote
did not go as expected, correct?

Wallabee:
Mostly, we were shocked at the Bond Issue Vote.
Who would have imagined the “will of the people” saying, “No”, to
the bigger library and choosing, instead, smaller branches.
Well,
that
vote
changed everything. Even though developers were not happy and
curtailed some of their plans, we saw a different dream—and it’s
made all the difference.

POTWIN---April 11, 2016

[Central Topeka, Victorian
three-story “painted lady”, in the Potwin area where circle parks
intersect brick streets in an 8 block area since 1888 with a
population, then, of 600. Dr. James Putnam was presiding Library
Board President and oversaw the Library Bond Issue. Although shaky
and frail with a wavering, soft voice, Dr. Putnam, nonetheless,
granted this interview. He was flanked by Edna, his wife of 57
years, and his oldest son, Edmond.]