Postcard from the prairie


The Midwest keeps playing with my head, my heart.
Out on the road this week, traversing the SoDak back roads and there’s a feeling of being renewed, reenergized to make the most of prairie life. The people across this state are most warm and friendly and a joy to cover.
But there’s still this unnerving aspect of being the outsider.
I was born and bred in the Midwest, grew up in a small community in Nebraska. But you can’t always shake the feeling on not belonging.
I’m a member of the club, but it’s not the full-on membership with exclusive access.
Since I have to remain neutral for my career.
And that tends to muddle everything.
You hang around on the road with the same cyclists every night and at the end of the day when the notebook is in the back pocket and you’re drinking a beer, there still comes the question, “You’re not taking notes now, are you?”
An insider on the outside.
It’s a tough way to live.
But I’m sitting at a scenic overlook across the expanse of the Missouri River as I write this – and I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be at this moment. Life is good on the road.
I just hope it will evolve back home.

2 comments:

missalister said...

This traveling does right by you, T. I mean, if I read this and your clownhouse blues right, you’re wide open to receive: you got the task at hand and the rhythm in your head. By god I think you’re in full synch with your profession and it looks good on ya ;-)

Teri and the cats of Furrydance said...

Road stories...I love them. Opens up the pipes, wind in your sails, and being yourself amongst strangers is in a way, freeing...