cklarock

In the Midwest, there sure are a lot of old boys with big bellies who stand around with their hands in their pockets and just smile at folks.

Their belts are slung low and snugthe pinstripes or pastel plaid or horizontal golf-stripes on their neatly tucked cotton/lycra shirts bulge and arc and then contract and dive into khakis or blue jeans. These fellersll make little comments about topical things to any stranger that passes them by.

Observations about the work someone is doing are especially treasured: Well, thats a heavy un, or Bet you got some more of those to run today.

And the proper response is to smile or nod and say, sure do, or it's almost quittin' time, and if you want to, you can tell the ol boy about how many you really do have to run, and why, or tell him that if he thinks thisn looks heavy, well this aint so bad. He should have seen it last week.

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There is a lot to love about Kansas, particularly Lawrence, which is the best of all possible Kansas towns, sort of a greatest hits of an otherwise (no disrespect to my parents, my Grandma and all my Aunts, Uncles, Cousins that live there) unlivable state.

The state motto should be: Kansasa great place to be from. As a kid, theres nothing better than hot hot summers, fireflies to chase, thunderstorms to play in. On my recent trip back, I got rained on and (gasp!) it was warm enough to be out in. Sure enough, as soon as it started raining all the kids came out to play. It was a fantastic memory to be walking in as an adult, and one I would like to see my children share some day.

In another moment of cognative dissonance, I saw a child sitting unattended outside a clothing store. My first reaction was to be concerned, then I realized-- his mom is probably inside, and just left him out there because . . . she could. He was playing with his shoes, and something on the sidewalk.

Lawrence has good food, good coffee, wonderful people, four seasons, a liberal culture, an active intelligencia, and best of all, it has Sophie. It is a place unlike the rest of the state, the epicenter of Kansas radical abolitionist past, a hub on the underground railroad. It was from Lawrence that the raiders would ride into Missouri to burn and fight prior to and during (coughandafter coughcough) the Civil War. It was Lawrence that was sacked by the pro-slavery raiders led by William Quantrill.

From that page: The Lawrence Massacre led to swift retribution, as Union troops forced the residents of four Missouri border counties onto the open prairie while Jayhawkers looted and burned everything they left behind.

That is what a Jayhawk is, for those of you who dont know. A Jayhawk takes it to the oppressor man and burns everything he can put his hands on.

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My friend has this poem on his wall, and I love him for it.

Kansas Land

I would miss this Kansas land that I was leaving.
Wide prairie filled of green and cornstalk;
the flowering apple
Tall elms and oaks bordering streams that gurgle,
Rivers rolling quiet in long summers of sleepy days
For fishing, for swimming, for catching crawdad beneath
the rock.
Cloud tufts billowing across the round blue sky.
Butterflies to chase through grass high as the chin.
Junebugs, swallowtails, red robin and bobolink,
Nights filled of soft laughter, fireflies and restless stars,
The winding sound of crickets rubbing dampness from their wings.
Silver September rain, orange-red-brown Octobers and
white Decembers with hungry
Smells of hams and pork butts curing in the smokehouse.
Yes, all of this I would missalong with the fear, hatred
and violence
We blacks had suffered upon this beautiful land.
Gordon Parks