I Left My Heart In Nebraska

By Tom Morrow

  Let me say up front that I had an idyllic childhood in a small southern Iowa farming community. Our little town of Seymour was so close to Missouri (7 miles) that most folks on each side of the border called the area "Lapland," where the two states lapped over into each other. My small town education was among the best.

 I spent much of my teen years dreaming what it would be like living in the American West. The farthest I ever got until I graduated from high school was western Nebraska and eastern Wyoming. Those three family vacation trips were memorable. I have always been a history buff, so I knew about the great nations of Native Americans who called Nebraska home. The pioneers left their mark so vividly across the great plains of Nebraska. Landmarks such as Chimney Rock and Scott's Bluff were markers that told pioneers they were on course to Utah, Oregon and California. When I saw these great outcropping it was mesmerizing, even to a 14-year-old. After reading Buffalo Bill Cody's biography, I wanted to see his birth place near North Platte.

 During World War II, we lived in Lincoln, the state's capital. Dad was a foreman at the Havelock Goodyear Rubber plant where they made rubber gas tank bladders for B-29 Super Fortress bombers. Rubber? Yes. They were "self-sealing" when hit by enemy fire. To this day, I never miss an opportunity to go through or better yet, spend a day or two in Lincoln, one of America's most pleasant cities.

 On our first family vacation trip was in 1950. When we passed through Kearney, which is located almost exactly equal distance between the West and East coasts, we stopped at a souvenir shop along U.S. 30 along the edge of town. It was (as I remember it) a giant covered wagon with two big wooden oxen out front. Dad bought my sister and me cowboy hats, complete with vests. Today, my sister lives in Kearney, so we went out to the west end of town where the oxen and wagon still stand. It's being restored, but it's so very small compared to what I remember.

 If you're wondering about the spelling of "Kearney," for that city's residents, it's correct. The town is named after the same general, who spent time here in San Diego. Gen. Stephen Kearny was commanding officer at Fort Kearny located south of Kearney. Why that extra 'e' you ask? Back in the late 1880s, the postmaster applied for an official U.S. Post Office misspelling the general's name. And, in the great Midwestern twang, they pronounced it as "Kar-nee."

 On one of our trips, we went through the town of Broken Bow, which is about 50 or 60 miles north of Kearney. What a neat name for a town, but then again there are lots of neat town names in Nebraska: Broken Bow, Red Cloud, Scottsbluff, Grand Island, North Platte, Fremont -- the list goes on and on. Many of the towns in Nebraska are named for Native American, landmarks, or famous people that helped pioneer the state.
 
The be sure, Iowa certainly has a rich history, but when you're a kid who wants to be anywhere but where you are, any sort of adventure in the West is alluring. Even 63 years after that first summer vacation past Chimney Rock, I still get that feeling of great adventure when traveling across Nebraska. As strange as it might sound, there's a certain aroma in the air and a feel to surroundings when I'm in the state. Now, don't get me wrong -- living here in Oceanside of San Diego County is ideal. The temperature seldom changes 20 degrees either way, so those bitter cold Nebraska winters and hot, humid summers are enough to keep me where I am. Still, my memories and an occasional motor trip through Nebraska is enough to satisfy.

 My first novel, "Nebraska Doppelganger," has the hero a young teenager from Broken Bow. It's available at any Barnes & Noble or Amazon.com, as well as in e-book formats at both.

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