Once upon a time in Nebraska
Back in the 1980s when I was traveling around the country every year like a nomad or Gypsy, I crossed Nebraska several times and always marveled at it’s wide open spaces, hilly Sandhills grasslands, small towns in the middle of nowhere, spring-fed rivers and a general feeling of bring in America but away from it, too.
Many years years ago I saw a photograph in a magazine of a Nebraska country scene so idyllic and memorable that I wanted to look at it and let it work its magic on me. So I did some research on the Internet, send off some e-mails, and made calls to Nebraska. A few weeks later, I had an 11 x 14 inch enlargement of that picture, from the original negative, hanging on the wall of my study, directly in front of my desk.
And so, when I looked up, I could fix my gaze on that scene and be transported there for a while, if I so chose. It depended on my mood and frame of mind. For instance, even though I am writing now while sitting at the beach, I am picturing this: There’s a backyard way out in farming country in what is probably one of the most rural parts of western Nebraska. A gravel road stretches off in the distance on the right. A white picket fence surrounds the yard, and in back of that is a windmill. From an old cottonwood tree hangs a swing.
And, if you could see me there, you would learn that I had just finished a midday dinner of fried chicken, green beans, rice and gravy, cornbread, corn on the cob and fresh tomatoes, iced tea and lemonade. (I’m imagining favorite noon-time country meals are pretty similar wherever you go). There was apple pie and ice cream for dessert (real home-churned ice cream, not low-fat ice milk of frozen yogurt). I’ve come from the porch, bringing a cold glass of lemonade with me, and I’m standing in the back yard on this warm day in August. My shoes have been left behind on the porch, and the cool grass under the cottonwood tree feels good on my bare feet. Ahead of me, off in the distance are undulating fields of corn, brown stalks dry and crackling in the wind.
I am full from the meal, as content as it’s possible to be, for a while anyway, and I spot a sturdy swing hanging from the ancient cottonwood. Soon, like the child I only briefly was, I am swinging up high, reaching toward that blue sky over the cornfields, almost defying gravity, as one invariably tries to do while on a swing. Then, I’m earthbound again, only to rise up higher in the other direction, gaining momentum. How delicious a sensation to feel free for a moment or two in that swing, up high and then back down to earth. Again and again. I am a mere mortal trying, and almost succeeding, in shaking loose from Earth, suspended between land and sky, for just a split second. What will it be? To fly free or come down to Earth once again?
I can only think of the answer as I sit here writing, daydreaming at twilight on Folly Beach, visiting another place that exists only in my imagination as well as in a photograph hanging on the wall.
I’m a Nebraskan and I do not want to live anywhere else.
@deepestthoughtsofalonelywoman I haven’t been back in many years, but I always found the people to be warm and friendly. The state’s natural beauty, especially places like the Niobrara River valley, Cherry County, and the Sandhills, are incomparable. Wish I could go back. Maybe some day.
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I love that picture! It really does bring a sense of peace and “reality” to it. By reality, I mean this: last night I was talking to my son who told me he had a short power outage recently and he just lay there on his couch in the pitch dark, in absolute quiet now that his constantly running fan had stopped. In the complete deprivation of senses, he had an epiphany and basically reinvented himself and he just finished writing his first novel. That discussion made me think of how when I was a kid, I could go out and run through a field, see the sky and stars at night (which the stars are few to be seen from a light-polluted town) and there was such a stillness and a quiet there unlike today, here and now. I’ve been thinking about how I would like to buy a piece of land, maybe an old country house way out in the middle of nowhere, where time feels different and the air is different in a quiet way that makes you really feel life. It removes the masks of heavy traffic, busy streets, bustling people, and you can see life, still and quiet and feel how real everything is.
@elizabethbarstone-novelist This is so beautifully written. It speaks deeply to me. Your son’s epiphany during the power outage, and your dream of a house out in the stillness of the country where you can actually see the stars, resonated deeply with me.
I’ve often dreamed of a place in the country, but it’s always been just that, as my life has been full of so much endless change and uncertainty. But I CAN dream as I did in This piece about rural Nebraska. At my age I don’t foresee ever getting back there, but who knows?
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That picture has a very “Wizard of Oz” vibe about it…yes, Nebraska and Kansas are two different states but both have, at least in popular culture, the image of endless desolate prairies dotted here and there with farmlands. Nebraska (no offence to anyone who hails from there) seems to be regarded as one of the backwaters of the continental US that no one talks about and you never hear anything about. When it comes to tourism, that state, and perhaps Kansas too, (add in North and South Dakota) are at the bottom of the list. Few seem to want to visit these places (though one of the Dakotas has the annual Sturgis motorcycle event) as the popular notion is that there’s nothing there of any importance. When I found out that the contractor that is to rebuild Baltimore’s bridge is based in Nebraska, I though “Oh, no – we’re doomed!” Why would they pick some company from “nowheresville”? For a bridge that is to be built in an urban area, I would have thought they would pick a contractor that is at least head-quartered in civilization…
There is perhaps one thing that did give the state of Nebraska a bit of cultural exposure, and that was the 1970’s pop song Wildfire. That song also lends to the imagery of the state being an empty and perhaps forbidding and gloomy place. Then there was the tv show “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom” from the 70’s. That was one of my favorites as a kid. But also, the image of the crying Indian on a lonely plain at the beginning of the show also helped to cement those negative ideas.
@schrecken13 That’s the thing. Nebraska and Kansas are very much hidden jewels in the madcap world of tourism for the masses. Nebraska, particularly, in my view, is as fascinating as any state with millions more visitors, and for someone who loves history so much, the story of the Oregon Trail brought the state and all the historic stops along the way, to life for me, and made several visits eminently worthwhile. In fact, there is a densely detailed “Moon” travel Guide to he Oregon Trail, which I have and dream about using, but at my age, solo long distance road trips are a thing of the past when I was young and full of endless enthusiasm for travels.
The rivers, small tons, wide-open-to-the sky back roads, and natural beauty everywhere and the great Niobrara River Valley make Nebraska totally captivating to me. I have very powerful memories of my travels there.
@oswego I suppose such obscure places like Nebraska are not unlike small, family run amusement parks where mostly only locals visit. One can go to Disney World and face huge crowds and long lines, or alternatively visit little known “mom and pop” parks. The latter lack the glitz of the former, but many of them are very unique and memorable, with odd ball collections of very old and historic rides and coasters that are found nowhere else.
So yes, I get where you are coming from with regards to going off the beaten path (Oregon Trail not withstanding and no pun intended) for a more laid back and less hectic travel experience.
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