Cornfields and Sand Roads

Photo courtesy of Steve Wageman

Who can relate to this?
I grew up on a small 40 acre farm just about a half mile from Thurston, Nebraska.: Population about 130; a tiny town but big on heart and soul. Everyone knew everybody and we all watched out for each other.
I have lots of great memories growing up in the rural heartland. Thinking back, my “hood” only covered about one square mile, but when you are little, one square mile seemed like a thousand miles of adventures. We walked about everyplace we wanted to go…to softball practice, the little grocery store, even to school. We had a little creek that ran through our pasture, and I would spend countless hours winter, spring, summer and fall combing that little creek for treasures, sitting with the cattle as they grazed nearby (yes, that was fun for me!) Wading the creek in warm weather and sliding on the ice in winter. A big grove of trees for climbing, an old corn crib and some shabby barns…lots of places to play and pretend brings back sweet memories. But I think two of my favorite places to spend my time were the old sand road and my dad’s cornfield.
The Sand Road: I loved waking across our land to the old sand road just outside of Thurston. The sand on the road was deep, not good for riding your bike over, but there was very little traffic and the sand was so much fun to play in the deep, fine, sand. It was like a tiny bit of the Panhandle Sandhills of Nebraska right in our own back yard; so peaceful and serene. I had forgotten how beautiful that area was until I saw this photo taken by a friend on that same road recently. (Posted here)
The Cornfield: Unless you grew up on a farm, it’s hard to imagine how fantastic it is to play in a cornfield. When you’re for or five rows into a field of corn in late July or early August, it’s like a jungle…and fun to try to get lost in the vast green ocean that seems endless as a child. Sometimes I would just sit in among the rows in the stillness. I can still remember the smell, and the silent rustling of the leaves blowing in the breeze. It felt like I was invisible, and imagine I was the only person in the whole world.
A farm is a giant playground and I learned many valuable lessons growing up there. I learned to respect the land and in caring for our farm animals, I learned about life and death. I learned how to drive a stick shift, how to be tough, work hard and be independent. I learned how to be creative and imagine endless possibilities. I learned to be generous, even when you don’t have much, and most of all I learned to be content with the simple things in life, like an old sand road in the middle of everywhere!

Steve Wageman Photo courtesy