| Warsaw |
| Warsaw, with a population of
just over 2,000, is the county seat of Benton County Missouri. It
sits on the north end of the Lake of the Ozarks, where it meets Truman
Lake at Kaysinger Bluff. East Bledsoe Ferry Park, one of the
prettiest little parks I've ever visited, lies between two arms of Lake
of the Ozarks, directly below the Harry S Truman Dam and Reservoir. On the surface Warsaw is pretty much what you'd expect from such a small town in rural southwestern Missouri. A large percentage of the population are seniors who've retired here from the city. A large percentage are rednecks who grew up here. There are churches on every corner almost -- Catholic, Baptist, Presbyterian. There's even a religious coffee house called Jehovah and Java. The district is strongly republican. Look closer, though, and there are some surprising contradictions. Though there are only two national chain restaurants (Sonic and McDonald's), there are a large number of small, privately owned restaurants. These range from standard diners, like Cow Patty's (supposed to be quite good, though I've never gotten past the name myself) and Diantha's, to things like The Hummingbird Tea Room and The Good Earth Cafe, owned and operated by a religious group called (I think) the Twelve Tribes of Israel, who are very like Mennonites, at least to a casual observer. (Unfortunately, few of these restaurants stay open past 7 PM!) There's an art gallery, a pottery, a woodworker's, and an art glass/art glass supply and homemade fudge shop. The democratic contingent is small, but vocal. And there are even a surprising number of pagans living locally if you know who to talk to. My day job is in the produce department at Warsaw Walmart. With a few exceptions I've found the people there to be friendly and charming. The out of town visitors, who come down to the lake during the summer, are interesting and varied. And when the swimming beaches are open (they haven't been for two years now and so far 2010's not looking promising) there's no better place to be quietly amused by poor swimwear choices. (Seriously, folks! If you come into an air-conditioned building wearing nothing but a wet speed-o and start complaining that you're cold I have to laugh at you. It's a natural law, like gravity.) Finally, I can't write about Warsaw without mentioning the swinging bridge. The swinging bridge over the Osage River arm of the Lake of the Ozarks is now only open to foot traffic. Just north of Hwy 7, it's a colorful reminder of Warsaw's past. It's also a reminder of my past, because when I was very small the swinging bridge was still in use and I rode across it one time that I will never forget. My mom and I had gone to Warsaw with a very kind but eccentric neighbor lady named Shirley, who was driving her car. As we got to the bridge Shirley remarked, "I hate this thing! I always go over it with my eyes closed." Mom said, "Stop!" Shirley stopped and she and Mom traded places long enough for Mom to drive over the bridge, so there was no harm done. But we were always amazed that she intended to go over it with her eyes closed. Of course, Shirley also circled her house three times throwing out the dishwater every night to make it rain, and treated nosebleeds with an iron washer on a cord around her children's necks, and backed her car a quarter of a mile every week to wind the transmission and . . . but that's another story. |
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