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Showing posts from August, 2016

Not a Hippie

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Hippie:   (especially in the 1960s) a person of unconventional appearance, typically having long hair and wearing beads, associated with a subculture involving a rejection of conventional values and the taking of hallucinogenic drugs. Synonyms: flower child, Bohemian, beatnik, free spirit, nonconformist I was never a hippie. For the most part, my friends and classmates were not hippies, either. I suppose we were a little too young, and a lot too sheltered, growing up in Fairbury, Nebraska, in the sixties and seventies. We knew a few people--very few--who were rumored to use LSD and other hallucinogens, and a few more who smoked marijuana. However, the drug of choice for teenagers in our part of the world was, and still is, alcohol. And I didn't drink. Plenty of my classmates did, for sure, but that didn't make them "hippies." Neither did the bell-bottom jeans we all wore, or the mini- and maxi-dresses the girls wore, or our beads and granny glasses, or the girls...

The Other Eye

I was still in my twenties when I was diagnosed with corneal dystrophy, an often-hereditary eye disease that usually effects old people. But in my family, I was diagnosed first, then my mom, followed by my grandma a few years later. Since I've had the disease for such a long time, it was inevitable that I would need cornea transplants eventually. Mom has had three corneal transplants. The first donor-cornea carried a rare duck fungus, more common in much warmer places than Nebraska. Unfortunately, that hard-to-diagnose fungus caused her to lose more sight than she ultimately gained, even with a subsequent cornea transplant that "took." When my grandma was diagnosed, she was old enough that her corneal dystrophy didn't progress fast enough to require such drastic measures as a transplant. My own eyesight has worsened gradually over the years. I think my eye doctors originally expected that I would need surgery long before now. And, even this summer, my right eye ...

The Kool-Aid Generation

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According to Wikipedia, "Kool-Aid was invented by Edwin Perkins in Hastings, Nebraska. All of his experiments took place in his mother's kitchen. Its predecessor was a liquid concentrate called Fruit Smack. To reduce shipping costs, in 1927, Perkins discovered a way to remove the liquid from Fruit Smack, leaving only a powder." And, as they say, the rest is history My generation grew up with Kool-Aid. Oh, we were expected to drink milk at mealtime, both at school and at home. But, Kool-Aid was the party drink of choice for kids all over the country. Every birthday party served Kool-Aid, usually red. Every church potluck and Vacation Bible School, every Girl Scout or Boy Scout event, wherever kids were gathered, there was a pitcher of Kool-Aid, along with some inevitable Kool-Aid mustaches. In the hot summer months, every family's refrigerator contained an ice-cold pitcher of Kool-Aid, just waiting to quench our thirst. And, if the pitcher was sitting, empty, on...

Sandhills in Summer

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I've driven across the Nebraska Sandhills twice this week, journeying back and forth along that thin ribbon of highway that cuts through the hills. Those green, rolling hills are really just miles and miles of sand dunes, covered with lush, green, native prairie grass, undulating in the cool breeze. What a beautiful, awe-inspiring trip! The Sandhills are unique formations, or so I've been told. They cover most of north-central Nebraska, angling their way from the northeastern part of the state, clear across much of the panhandle. You can drive for miles without spotting a single tree. Then, all of a sudden, the road might be lined with several majestic Cottonwoods, shiny leaves changing color as they rustle in the wind that never seems to cease. Or, dozens of cedar trees will appear to march over the crest of one hill and onto another. Then are those unexpected lakes that dot the countryside alongside the road, reflecting the blue sky when the sun is shining, and chan...