Shetlers Build Their Dream Domes in Clay Center
Nebraska
by Tom Grier (March 2013)
On a long drive
on backroads across the Great Plains, I saw something that made me lift my foot
from the accelerator and take a break from the road.
On our way from
Minnesota to Arizona in mid-March (2013), my colleague, Robbie Christiano, and
I were interested in seeing more than asphalt, traffic signs and billboards. We
chose to take small highways and were cruising west along Nebraska State Highway
41, south of Lincoln, heading toward Minden.
We stopped to take photographs of the county courthouses in Wilber and Geneva,
Neb., to feed a passion of mine: photography of courthouses-- community
buildings that embody a sense of place in small town America. A few miles west
of Geneva, in the distance on the north side of the highway, we spotted several
tan-colored oval shapes rising from the otherwise flat landscape.
Robbie and I
looked at the shapes as we got closer and closer and realized it was a series
of connected domes. As we went by, a little tingle in the back of my mind told
me to stop and get a photo of the unique structures. If it was a geodesic dome
home, or a single dome, I might have kept on driving. Something about this
place-- the way the seven domes of various sizes were inter-connected-- called
me to stop.
Years of work with American Indians taught me to respect people and their
homes. Rather than grabbing a shot or two with my long lens from the road and
driving on, I turned our vehicle around, drove into the driveway of the domes
home property, walked up to the door and knocked. I did this without a word.
Later, Robbie said he thought I was acting strange, but knew I was following
something I had to do.
When Grace Shetler answered the door, I introduced myself and said I was
interested in the look of her home. I asked if I could take some photos, and if
she could take a few minutes to tell me about the home. She opened the door and
invited us in.
"This happens quite a bit," Grace told Robbie and I. "Please
sign the guest book. We've had more than 2,000 people stop by in the last
couple years."
Grace gave us a tour of the home, apologizing at times
because they were doing some rearranging of rooms and it wasn't as neat as she
would have liked. She walked us through the kitchen, bedrooms, living room and
pantry and explained how she and her husband, Eldon, had envisioned the place
and built it over the past five years.
Grace explained that here on the Nebraska prairie the domes could survive sustained
winds of up to 375 miles per hour, so they were virtually tornado-proof. Then
she took us to the largest of the domes at the back of the place. It was a
garage that could house four cars, but instead was home to a small airplane
Eldon was building from scratch.
She called Eldon on a cell phone, who was running a tractor in an adjacent
field, plowing and filling areas to create their own runway for the plane.
"We've got company... come on up here," she said into the phone.
In minutes Eldon drove up in the tractor and hopped out,
smiling as he extended a hand to greet us-- total strangers who stopped by
unannounced and unexpected.
For the next 90 minutes, Eldon, 77, and Grace, 80, welcomed us into their home
and their lives. They told us how they met and married. They described their
children and how the kids were raised near here in south central Nebraska. They
talked about their careers-- both are retired-- and travels, and mostly, their
vision for this unique home.
Grace explained they got the idea for the home when they saw a TV show that
featured a similar home in California owned by an architect and builder named
Lloyd Turner. They traveled to Boulder, Creek, Calif., to see Turner's home in
person. He explained everything in great detail and they were hooked.
Eldon described how they built the home: inflating large
bubbles first, applying three inches of spray foam insulation, placing a frame
made of 8.5 tons of half-inch rebar, then spreading at least 1.5 inches of
concrete both inside and out. He also showed where he was planning to add a
porch and a 2nd floor balcony in the largest central dome of the home.
And Eldon talked about the airplane, one of his favorite
projects.
"The front is actually from a crashed Cessna," he
said. "The rest is custom: every cut, every bend, every rivet."
The plane runs, he said. But he isn't allowed to fly it,
yet. He said there are several levels to get it certified by the Federal
Aviation Administration for flight, and that kind of government work takes
time, especially when the plane is out in the middle of southern Nebraska and
nowhere near an airport.
Eldon guessed he spent more than 5,000 hours on the plane over the years. He
also said it was more than a hobby, but less than an obsession.
"I never let the plane get in the way of family,"
Eldon said.
After an hour-and-a-half unscheduled stop, Robbie and I
began to say our goodbyes. We took a couple photos of the couple in front of
their home and chatted a bit more about the importance of meaningful
relationships in life. It was one of those awkward moments when people know
they need to end a conversation and move on, but no one really wants to stop
having such a good time.
As we got ready to get in to our vehicle, we promised to
send photos to Eldon and Grace, and then we all hugged. Strangers 90 minutes earlier
-- now good friends with an invitation to visit anytime and a responsibility to
stay in touch.
On a warm March afternoon in south central Nebraska, a
little tingle told me to ease off the accelerator and turn back to investigate
an interesting sight. From that moment, strangers became friends, shared
stories and built a sense of community.
(story and photos ©2013 by Tom Grier)
