Day 30: Perhaps Like Ironwood I .....

As I woke up and began my studies on Federal Civil Procedure, I couldn't help but think that Ironwood was a crossroads. Here I was during the last legs of my trip and with under two weeks until this test. Here I was in a place with such a strong name, but one that only sheds its own rich past. I ended up studying for nearly 10 hours today, first at the Luxor, which I've since dubbed my motel; second at my beloved library; third just outside the historical depot; and finally a late night three hour session back at the luxor.

The day wasn't absent from some local treats though. My uncle, who co-owns our family's clothing store with my parents, set up an appointment in early June for me to look through the Stormy Kromer Factory. This was about the only promise/obligation I had made before going on this trip so it was an important two-hour break. As I went in, I realized I had just locked my keys in the car. (Dumbass instantly went ringing through my head. Here I was representing my family and the first minute would be spent discussing how I was locked out of my shit-filled car.) "Did you lock it running?" Kristin, a worker, asked. "No," I said. "Oh no problem," she responded. She was right. It took the local Triple A affiliate to get there within six minutes of my phone call. As we talked about their company's history and how Kromer joined in 2001; I discussed mine. The story flipped from their fascination of how our family has had been in business since just after World War I ended. I couldn't help but espouse a since of pride in my ancestry for retaining their position in history for 93 years. The tour continued and it only compared with my Heineken tour in Amsterdam for most elaborate. (The latter included three tastings. This included seeing each stage and facet of the business.)

As I studied this afternoon, I couldn't help but think that perhaps I was a bit like this now town of 6000. A century ago, you couldn't fit enough people in this community as it relied on the rich minerals, today its still reeling to find its identity. Today, I'm also uncertain of my future, but perhaps like Ironwood, I can rely on a bit of faith, and hopefully fate will get me there. I went for a six-mile run throughout this town and realized how much it resembled the 1950s, or what I would have thought such would be. I went by the American Legion - which has a monument for "the boys" (The boys who came back from World War 1.) This post was number 5; there are now more than 14000 worldwide. As I crept up the hill and to the large Hiawatha statue, giving evidence of its native american past and where the first iron ore mine was tapped. The plague read, dedicated to the memory of those who developed the ironwood area, the immigrants, farmers, loggers, railroaders, and iron ore miners.

The word immigrant just stood out. In my adulthood, immigration has hardly met making a better life. Instead it is a way to retain a homogeneous community, specifically keeping out the hispanic community. I wonder if today's world would have allowed my great-grandfather to go on that boat that led to the start of our family store. I headed back to luxor and the owners recommended a Mexican restaurant across the street. Go Figure.