I had a life in Nebraska.
From 1974 to 1977 I lived in Omaha, went to school in Omaha and watched Omaha go by through the windows of our faded red VW Bus.
Omaha, as I remember it--from the eyes of a 4-year-old, 5-year-old, 6-year-old--was a land of extreme weather and weird textures. There was frostbite and getting locked indoors by snowdrifts. Using the oven as an additional heater. There were tornadoes and tornado warning sirens; terrifying. There were hay fields dotted with giant bales of hay, cylindrical and cubical, each evenly spaced and perfectly shaped.
And they went on forever. And ever. And ever. And ever...
My friends wrote their name in spit on our oxidized bus just before we pulled away and headed to the land o' plenty. I had no idea how lucky I was to escape.
