P.Vill.

Back in the day . . . WAY back in the day . . . on the order of a quarter-century ago . . . I spent two summers as an employee of the Nebraska Department of Economic Development, Division of Travel and Tourism. I was a Nebraska Vacation Guide. [This is taking on the air of "True Confessions," isn't it?--Ed.]

My job entailed spending my days with at least one other Guide at assorted Interstate 80 rest areas. We gave out maps, directions, and other information about the scenic wonders and destinations of note for visitors to/travelers through the great state of Nebraska. Oh, I can tell you stories about some of the weird questions we were asked! But that's for another day.

One of the most heavily promoted stops (due to its creator's own efforts) was Harold Warp's Pioneer Village, out near Minden. Mr. Warp, who made his millions in plastics if memory serves (and if it doesn't, please correct me), created an homage to his own upbringing in rural Nebraska. For instance, he bought an abandoned one-room schoolhouse and moved it to the Pioneer Village site, displaying it with a plaque noting it was similar to the school he attended as a child.

Pioneer Village had some neat stuff: one of the last working steam-powered carousels in the USA is the first that leaps to mind. But it also had a lot of junk. He had collections of old cars and tractors, knickknacks and other googaws, massed together by type for the visitor to peruse at his/her leisure, with no serious regard for historical significance beyond the fact that Mr. Warp liked them. All too often, the items were rusty and dusty, displayed in a generally decrepit condition that further disguised any larger historical significance they perhaps held.

Mr. Warp also made sure the Vacation Guides had plenty of promotional handouts for tourists, delivered in box after box after box labeled "P.Vill." You can imagine what a budding iconoclast made of that unfortunate abbreviation!

A story in this week's Bellevue Leader has caused me to reassess. While Mr. Warp himself died quite some time ago, Pioneer Village lives on. I doubt that its overall impression has changed; nevertheless, the keepers of Mr. Warp's vision have made a decision that I can but admire and appreciate. By way of explanation, let me tell you a love story . . .

Bill and Rita Cornell grew up together in Indiana. Bill's father thought Rita was the perfect woman for his son . . . and eventually Bill and Rita agreed. After enduring the tribulations of separation during World War II, they married in late 1947.

After traveling the world, they settled in Bellevue in 1982. All this time, Rita had collected dolls: porcelain ones, Barbies, Cabbage Patch, and others. She bought what she liked, often from a second-hand stores. She restored them and displayed them, and they gave her great pleasure.

In 1995, Rita suffered a debilitating stroke. She became frail and lost her ability to speak. Bill couldn't bear to see her in the hospital, so he learned how to care for her and brought her home. He built shelves and shelves in her room, to display her treasured dolls. He took her for walks, pushing her wheelchair up and down the Fontenelle Hills neighborhood that was their home. [This is no mean feat, as anyone who's tried to drive in Fontenelle Hills in good weather, let alone after a snowstorm, can attest.--Ed.] And though she declined steadily over the succeeding 10 years, he cared for her tenderly until her death last September.

Even as she lost touch with things that had once mattered to her, Rita never lost interest in her dolls--or in Bill. He would show her catalogs of dolls, her eyes gleaming when she saw one she especially liked. He would take her shopping and add to her collection. He loved her and cared for her the way any real man would. [Which is unfortunately increasingly rare these days, but that's beside the point.-Ed.]

No one wanted to sell the dolls after she died; nor did Bill and Rita's children want the collection to be split up. Bill is moving into assisted living facilities himself, and cannot keep the collection with him. Neither did anyone want to see the dolls just go into storage and be forgotten.

Once the good people at Pioneer Village learned about this situation, they said they'd be delighted to take the dolls. They have promised to keep the collection intact, and to display the Rita and Bill Cornell Doll Collection in its entirety. It will debut in the coming years. It will be a concrete expression of the love Bill and Rita shared, of their joy in their love for each other until death did them part.

Bravo, people of Pioneer Village! I take back and apologize for every less-than-sterling comment I made and thought I had about your facility. I hang my head in shame while at the same time thanking you for your generosity of spirit and understanding of what truly matters in this life.