The Wheat State

Eureka to Pittsburg

The last time we were in Eureka (Nevada), I mentioned that there were 14 Eurekas in the United States.  I can now truthfully say that I’ve been in 21.4% of the US Eurekas (the third Eureka I’ve been to is in CA).  

In Eureka, we camped out in a public park in the middle of town.  Part of the public park includes a pool, and showers.  The best part?  It’s free!  Since it was near 100 degrees (with 100% humidity...yay?), I swam/floated/sat in the pool for quite awhile.  

Fun fact: Kansas is the wheat state because historically, it has produced the most wheat out of any state in the US.  In 2007, however, it produced the second most wheat, behind North Dakota.  In 2008 it regained its crown as America’s top wheat producer, but continues to produce less wheat than it has in the past.  According to Kansas Wheat, farmers have shifted one million acres of wheat over to corn and soybeans, simply because those crops are more profitable.

And the excess corn has begun to take over—It’s in everything, from cheese to chips to cereals to your gas tank.  In Kansas, it’s everywhere, as well as in everything.  A chapter of Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma is aptly titled “King Corn.”  In middle America, corn really is king.  Maybe even dictator.  Totalitarian perhaps.  Welllll not quite, but almost.

Truth

After my float in the pool, I took a walk downtown.  Out of the 30 or so storefronts, there were only two stores open at 7 PM: a bar, and a cell phone store.  The rest of them either closed at 2 PM, or had long gone out of business.  It was eerie how empty it was.  We’re definitely not in California anymore.

Downtown Eureka

Further evidence of our rural location were several drawings in one of the storefront’s window’s.  It looked like there had been some sort of farm safety drawing contest among the county’s children, and the best ones were on display.  I got a kick reading some of them: “Don’t play with livestock,” “Be safe...not unsafe,” and “Never play in grain bins” were my favorites.  When I was little, my safety instructions included “stop, look, and listen” for crossing the street, but I didn’t grow up in a hazardous farm setting.

Nor did I grow up with fireflies.  Sitting outside next to our tent that night, as dusk set in, fireflies began to appear.  They looked like little shooting stars, flying across the lawn, bright spots in an otherwise rather bleak day.