Our United States of America
Kansas wheat field, 1990.
I know many people who have only been to two states—the one they were born in, and a lingering state of denial. I don’t understand people who don’t like to travel, but then again I don’t understand people in general.
Ever since arriving on these shores aboard the good ship Mayflower, I’ve made it a point to see all 48 of the continental United States as well as the massive iceberg way up north and the tiny semitropical archipelago in the mid-Pacific.
These are my capsule reviews of the 50 states that compose our fragile union like so many incompatible spouses.
George Wallace and Hank Williams are from here; despite that song they did, Lynyrd Skynyrd isn’t, and chances are that you aren’t, either.
In late June, the sun feels so close it’s as if you can stand on your toes…
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