Where Corn Don't Grow

As we sat on the front porch

Of that old grey house where I was born and raised

Starin' at the dusty fields

Where my daddy worked hard every day

I think it kinda hurt him when I said Daddy

There's a lot that I don't know

But don't you ever dream about a life

Where corn don't grow

I remember living in Nebraska and thinking that there wasn't all that much to do. I never thought of it as boring... it was just Nebraska. The Summers are hot. The Winters are icy cold. In the Spring you open your windows to the clean breeze and in the Fall you are surrounded by spooky corn fields on all sides. Even the city kids know their way to the country. Although we didn't think of it that way... it was just just Nebraska.

He just sat there silent

Staring at his favorite coffee cup

I saw a storm of mixed emotion in his eyes

When he looked up

He said Son I know at your age

Seems like this ol' world is turning slow

And you think you'll find the answer to it all

Where corn don't grow

I moved away to follow a paycheck. The dollars were undeniable. The choices were stay and muddle through or move and really see a career. Too young to know any better I went for the money. I still have that career, good money and a big city paycheck.

Hard times are real

There's dusty fields

No matter where you go

You may change your mind

'Cause the weeds are high

Where corn don't grow

Hard times are real. Small Towns or Big Cities it doesn't matter. Of course we can't tell that until we take those steps away from home. Life is like some strange dessert--you're pretty sure it must be good, but you don't know until you take a bite and then it's too late. Good to remember that it is still dessert and just politely smile either way.

I remember feeling guilty

When Daddy turned and walked back in the house

I was only seventeen back then

But I thought that I knew more than I know now

I can't say he didn't warn me

This city life's a hard row to hoe

Ain't it funny how a dream can turn around

Where corn don't grow

My Dad still lives back in Nebaska. I don't see him much anymore for a lot of reasons--some good and some I don't think about. Of course I knew everything when I was stupid. Strange how stupid I feel now that I know I am not wise.

I still feel Nebraska everytime the warm wind blows down from the north. I see it in the clouds of dust that roll behind a pick-up on a dirt road. I see it in everything that is the color of a dried corn stalk. I smell it in the Spring. I hear it in the thunder that rolls across miles of open fields. I search for it on the horizon and imagine that I can see it where the land meets the sky.

**Where Corn Don't Crow is copyrighted by Travis Tritt