It had been four years since I’d last stepped on Nebraska soil. Upon my return to America’s heartland last week, I looked with new eyes at the acre after acre of land that many a generation of a farmer’s sweat and back breaking work ethic that struggles daily to keep our country fed.

Mixed with the simple farmland beauty though are scattered signs preaching one’s religious views, mostly pro life messages about when our existence begins. I find them unsettling, but realize that freedom of speech must encompass all people, and their points of view. Does the freedom of expression have a boundary?
I switch mind gears and think about the corn and soybean that is grown and stored in abundance out here….

I wonder if the farmer has a conscience about this product, being used in the manufacturing of unhealthy high fructose corn syrup that is ruining our health. I wonder if they feel bad as they use this product as feed for cattle, instead of natural grass.
The smell of the feed lots make me choke on the air, like an emphysema patient puffing a last cigarette. I consider vegetarianism again with real fervor.

I wonder if they are to blame at all, or if they are just filling a need, satisfying a consumer….
I have plenty of time to ponder these thoughts as I travel hour after endless hour on dusty dirty roads.

Stacks of rolled hay in a field of green bring joy to this heart.
Laying by a river bank watching tadpoles jump in the sparkles of shimmering sun on the water.
Sitting on an old swing, pretending my imaginary friend is on the other end, lifting me to the endless sky.
Up. Down.Up. Down.
A solitary cow grazing and drinking without a care.

Not a bad way to spend your time, crisscrossing rural country roads.

2 Replies to “Crisscrossing country roads of Cornhusker land”

  1. Have you seen the documentary Food Inc? I thought of that when you were discussing the farmers. Great film that shows how farmers are being exploited by the food industry. I've never driven through Nebraska but I imagine it's like driving through Kansas.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.