Thoughts on Kansas...and me.

If roots define who we are, the best way for you to get to know me is by understanding where I’m from. As most of you already know, I’m a Kansan. Born and raised. Sure, Kansas is well known for its wide-open prairies and history of cattle drives, railroads, and agriculture; but few people know that there are 2.75 million wonderful residents of this state in the nation’s Heartland.

Unfortunately, somewhere down the line, Kansas got a bad rap. And there are countless reasons why this is true. Well, today, I want to discuss a few of those with you.

Number one. The Wizard of Oz.

First and foremost, I want you to understand that Oz is NOT Kansas; and yes, I do know that “I’m not in Kansas anymore.” Thank you for reminding me. I don’t have a dog named Toto, and I can’t just click my heels to get some of Grandma’s home-cookin’. Hard to believe, I know, but true.

Sticking with the Oz theme, I know it’s also hard for you to believe that there are no creepy flying monkeys, munchkins, witches, or other characters just “over the rainbow” from where I grew up. There’s no Emerald City either. Just Wichita. Hardly anything to brag about. And then there’s my little hometown of Galva. 645 people strong and hoping to hit 650 by the year 2020. That’s the mayor’s plan anyway.

The only reason I can come up with as to why people errantly associate Kansas with the Wizard of Oz is because they think wheat = weed. That is not the case, my friends. Wheat is a primary crop in Kansas. In fact, my home state produces enough wheat each year to make 35.9 BILLION loaves of bread. Yes, billion. That’s 5 ½ loaves for every man, woman, and child on the planet. Notice no mention of marijuana. Then again, how could ANYONE not on something come up with the Wizard of Oz storyline?

Number two. Natural disasters (namely, tornadoes).

Let me be the first to tell you that a tornado doesn’t just pick up your house and spin it in the air like Dorothy’s in The Wizard of Oz. Oh, no. It usually tears homes apart nail by nail, board by board until you have a flattened scrap heap. Very sad. I’ve witnessed the damage firsthand and know family and friends who have lost everything. So how does this contribute to Kansas’ bad rap? Well, I guess it’s more about the media’s coverage of natural disasters that drives me crazy.

Like clockwork in tornado alley, a monster tornado strikes in the spring. Here’s the media’s MO. They hunt down an old farmer with 6 first names (even though everyone knows him by “Buck”). They even put the quotes around it in their little subtitle. Of course, “Buck” has 2 teeth, hasn’t shaved in years, wears a big straw cowboy hat down over his ears, and overalls with stains from Lord knows what. And here’s what he says to the cameras:

“I was out on the porch watching the storm roll in and all of a sudden, a “tornader” popped out. I screamed to my wife Betty to come out and see but she couldn’t hear me over that freight train sound from the “tornader”. Worst storm I’ve seen in 63 ½ years and I’ve lived here all my life. My dog Fred ended up in Bob’s tree 3 miles away, but he was alright. Thankfully, it just hit the house and missed my tractor.”

I know what you’re thinking. I’m exaggerating. But trust me, I’m not. I’ve seen it. The problem is, that image is then plastered on CNN and every other news network in the world. “Yep, that must be what all of those Kansans are like. Let’s plan our vacation in Maui instead.”

And the final reason why Kansas gets a bad rap is because it’s flat. I mean REALLY flat. And boring.

I’m willing to bet that most of you have traveled through Kansas at least a time or two in your life. And my guess is that you’ve either completely blocked out that memory—or you’re still trying to. I’m really not sure why the “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” theme wasn’t first adopted by Kansas’ Department of Tourism—yeah, all three people. Because Kansas isn’t all that memorable—unless you get to know the people. That’s where I find pride in my roots.

Sure, we may not have Britney or Paris. Dwight Eisenhower, Neil Armstrong, and Amelia Earhart are our claims to fame. OK, Bob Dole too, for you Viagra lovers out there. Multimillion dollar homes don’t line palm-tree studded avenues. Maybe a Chinese Elm or Cottonwood. Usually, just a few wooden stakes and some barbed wire surround lots of flat land with a rustic farmhouse. But that’s fine by me. It’s home. It’s where I grew up. Hopefully, you see a little bit of Kansas in me and stop in for a cup of coffee next time you’re passing through.