RAGBRAI LI Route Announced on Jan. 27!

RAGBRAI Poetry

My sister fighting cancer can’t go this year, so I wrote her a poem. If mild scatology offends you, read no further. May she be back next year!

RAGBRAI and Poop

A key value in life is where to poop, and sometimes this takes on
elemental significance—you know…

Children have all sorts of euphemisms for #2 (hey, there’s one),
from caca to who knows what (scholars, have at it).

Anyway, on RAGBRAI (The Des Moines Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa),
when 10,000 bicyclists ride across the “Corn State” the last week in July,
REAL bathrooms with plumbing are rare along the way, at a premium,
so porta-potties take on much of the load,
and cornfields sometimes have to do (bring toilet paper).

One year there was a late-night mission for everyone on our team in Forest City, Iowa,
a team made up of my sister and me and our children along for the ride,
so we all piled into some borrowed car and headed for a secret campsite bathroom with plumbing,
with at least two of us needing to go bad—you know…
so bad that it was a topic of conversation in the car.

Then I chimed in: “PLOP-ster, go GAWK-y?”
This struck one Sandra Charlson as perfectly humorous, hilarious in the moment for her,
for only she knew these two euphemisms from our Knoxville lives from long ago,
born in the mind of Donnie Woodhouse, the little boy who lived next door,
his special and silly words in his 2-year-old world for poop.

Everybody poops, I hear, but Plopster and Gawky, that’s going in style.

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