Many of the stories that I wrote for my book were started and often finished in my hotel room in Quincy, Illinois. The first story, The Rats of Plainville, was started early one morning after spending two minutes driving through the town of Plainville (that’s all it took to drive from one end to the other).

Quincy is a river town. This is the bridge that crosses the Mississippi River into Missouri. I didn’t cross it much (there is another bridge farther south that crosses into Hannibal, where I worked), but I often dined in a restaurant called The Pier, which lies on the Illinois side, near the east end of the bridge.

Unfortunately, The Pier is closed (due to CoVID-19). I hope something eventually opens there, as it is in a great location.

Update – 2021. I learned recently that the Pier Restaurant is closed for good. I’ll miss it.

While working in Hannibal, Missouri gathering material for my book, The Rats of Plainville: Tales from the Heartland, I spent many mornings in the Java Jive Coffee Shop writing and drinking coffee. The coffee shop and café is located on Main Street in downtown Hannibal. They serve the best coffee in town and make some darned good sandwiches.

The inside of Java Jive is pretty neat. They sell fun and unique gifts (including some PG-rated socks). The décor is turn of the (19th) century. There are some cool antiques displayed there. This teapot is one of them.

The day I made this photograph was cold and blustery. Colder than I ever imagined Hannibal or Missouri. A strong wind came off the Mississippi River and iced over downtown. There were so many ice flows on the river, one could almost walk from Missouri to Illinois on the river and never sink. This photograph was made from Riverview park, which lies on a hill overlooking downtown.

I walked up the 600+ stairs that lead to the park and a lighthouse that rises above town. I walked back into town, and never saw another person on the streets. The cold reminded me of the time I spent on the north slope of Alaska, working on a drilling platform during the winter of 1984-85. Hannibal wasn’t quite as cold as Deadhorse, Alaska, but it sure seemed close.

*** DISCLAIMER ***

I want everyone to know that I actually never saw any rats in Plainville. I never meant to dis the small town. It’s quite a nice place to wander through.

There is also actually not a diner nor a bar in Plainville. There really isn’t anything in Plainville except a handful of Plainvillers (or perhaps they are called Plainvillites), several old houses, and corn.

I just don’t want anyone to avoid Plainville if he/she is allergic to rodents or otherwise grossed out by them.

Three of the stories in the book, Jimmy Meets a Frog, Aiming for the Heart, and Robert’s Sabre, take place in rural Illinois. More specifically, much of the stories take place in an area called The Land Between The Rivers.

The land is a peninsula that begins north of St. Louis where the Mississippi and Illinois Rivers converge. The town of Grafton, Illinois, and the entrance to Pere Marquette State Park are near the southern tip of the peninsula. The northern area is bounded by Michael to the east and Mozier to the west. From there, the Mississippi River veers to the west, making its way down from Hannibal, Missouri, and beyond, The Illinois River veers to the east, flowing down from Peoria.

I spent several weeks in the area working and looking for places to include in my stories. This photograph is from Calhoun County, in the area known as The Land Between the Rivers. This old farm is somewhere along Highway 2, The Mississippi River Road, near Brussels, Illinois.

The drive south, when heading back to St. Louis, ended with a ferry ride across the Illinois River into Grafton, or a ferry ride across the Mississippi River into Missouri. Both ferry rides are quick, but the Brussels Ferry is free and the drive down through Grafton and Alton is worth the extra time it takes to get to the airport.

Although most of the stories in my book are fiction, there are several bits and pieces that really happened. For instance, in The Trouble with Molly, Patrick Barksdale hitchhiked across the United States when he got out of the Air Force. That was me. I got out of the Air Force in 1978 and hitchhiked from New Jersey to California. Barksdale is the name of the Air Force base where I was stationed for 18 months (it’s near Shreveport, Louisiana).

While many of my peers were going to college or working, I was hitching around the States and Europe, living the life of a vagabond and exploring new places. Many of my tales come from my experiences. I wrap them around situations and characters, add some humor, and try to make them believable.

This is me in Ostend, Belgium in 1979. I spent 1979 through the end of 1980 wandering around Europe. My life fit nicely into my Jansport backpack. I owned the same backpack until last year. I gave it to my grandson Guthrie. I have no plans on hitchhiking across America or Europe again. but one never knows what lies ahead. If I do head out again, I’ll take my favorite hitchhiking book. I had this book when I was wandering around 40 years ago. I lost it somewhere in the next forty years, but found a copy on the Internet.

One of the many places I stayed while working in the Heartland was this grain bin. The Unique Grain Bin Cottage is located near West Point, Illinois. I spent a very secluded weekend (I never saw another person) writing and hiking along the nearby county roads.

For two days, I wrote stories, hiked around the countryside, and enjoyed the solitude of not having a TV or phone reception. Peacefulness at its best. I highly recommend it.

The story about Molly and Patrick came from a dream I had one night. Several of my story ideas took root while in my slumbers. In my dream, I was reliving my hitchhiking trip across America when I was discharged from the Air Force in 1978. I never saw a parrot while on the road, but several of the roads I hitched down between New Jersey and California were two-lane rural roads, similar to Highway 136 in rural Missouri.

The Rats of Plainville: Tales from the Heartland is full of real experiences I’ve had in my life. Like Patrick, I did hitchhike across the country after my Air Force Days. Like Patrick, I made it to California, didn’t like what I found, and left again. Patrick went back to his boyhood home in Missouri. California was my boyhood home, but I was disillusioned with what I found, and after six months of living back home, left Southern California for good. With my best friend Chris, I again hitchhiked across the country and eventually made it back to Europe.

But that’s another story and another book.

During one of my first trips to the Heartland for work, this one to Hannibal, Missouri, I passed this house. I passed the house on the trip back to St. Louis from Hannibal. Staying away from US 61, a fast yet boring road from the airport to Hannibal, I took the back road down, following Highway 79 from the gates of the cement plant all the way to the interstate that leads to the airport.

This old house is in Pike County. It’s obviously abandoned and probably has been for many years. No other cars were on the road, so I made a U-turn and pulled off the road.

Right across the highway and maybe a quarter-mile south of the first house, I found this house. Equally abandoned and probably just as old if not older.

Just north of both houses is this early cemetery. I imagine some of the people how lived in these two houses are laid to rest in the nearby cemetery.

A few of the Stories in The Rats of Plainville: Tales from the Heartland take place in an area known as the Land Between the Rivers. It is a peninsula between the Mississippi and Illinois Rivers. One of my favorite drives between Hannibal and St. Louis took me down rivers from Hamburg to the Brussels Ferry.

My journey usually started in Quincy, Illinois, the river town where I usually stayed when working in Hannibal. I’d drive down Highway 96 through New canton and Pleasant Hill, and then jog onto State Highway 100 at Kampville. Depending upon the time of day and the reading on the thermometer, I’d stop in Michael for an icy mug of Stag beer before driving down through Hardin and into Brussels.

Brussels is a small village of fewer than 300 people. It does have a couple of taverns and probably a few more feed stores. It also has an old cemetery that reminds me of seventeenth-century gothic novels.

Once out of Brussels, a short drive south led to the Brussels Ferry, a free ride across the Illinois River, its terminus just north of Grafton. After that, a journey down Highway 100 again, driving through Elsah and Alton, a bridge across the Mississippi River into Missouri, and down to St. Louis and my flight home.