Gone With the Wind
There isn’t much historical data that I was able to find on a fledgling sod buster and aspiring writer named Eugene Virgil Smalley, but a few of his words offer both a bit of humor and undoubtedly a raw snippet of realism.
In one particular piece of his literary endeavors, he attempts to describe his experiences while on the open prairie, heading west, and the hardships associated with it. The numerous perils during his journey were punctuated by the “harshest unpleasantness" and more specifically the "ailments created by the wind;" and I quote, “An alarming amount of insanity occurs in the new Prairie States, primarily between farmers and their wives." I certainly doubt with the strongest intellectual capacity that I can muster the previous condition is hereditary and persists today.
Smalley (1841-1899) passed away at 58 years of age. His wife was unable to explain to the authorities how a large shard of glass from a Mason jar became lodged in his left temporal lobe.
My prior knowledge of and beliefs on the endurance of the early settlers and the nostalgia it has created over the last two centuries has been tainted from time to time, this by reading various accounts of certain events or watching documentaries. I’m sure it’s true of almost any “moment from the past" that we have affection for or interest in. Fishermen, hunters and gardeners are more forgiving of random embellishments.
The Conestoga wagon, for example, was primarily used east of the Mississippi River; it rarely if ever was used for crossing the sand hills, mountains or deserts. The main mode of transportation on our side of the Mighty Mississip’was handled by the "prairie schooner" a.k.a. the "prairie wagon" and/or simply the "covered wagon." It was more affordable, required less horsepower to pull, and had better versatility over rough terrain. The familiar hemp canvas tarp that served as the roof was covered in wax and protected the occupants and cargo extremely well from the rain. It also had the tendency to burn like a hot candle if it were somehow ever ignited.
The physical hazards on the westward trek were many and required a hearty constitution to prevail. I can only imagine the thoughts of those headed toward the Pacific with dreams and ambition in their mind as they passed another group who have turned around and headed back east, having endured all they could handle. “You’re goin’ the wrong way," the driver would holler from the buck board.
"No we ain't. We're goin' home," they replied.
"Why?" they asked in astonishment.
“Wild animals, lack o’food and water, hostiles?"
“Hell no, it’s the damn wind, can’t take it no more." And away they went from whence they came.
Prairie Madness they called it. The endless open landscape, the lack of trees, the eternal blue above and far off vistas of nothing but slow rolling hills or flat barren dirt; it created a feeling of despair and isolation. It caused a depression in seemingly otherwise mentally healthy individuals.
Tempers easily flared, personal hygiene waned, bouts of melancholy and weeping were just a few of the symptoms. The inability to speak or hold conversation also occurred in extreme cases. (Some spouses would possibly consider this a benefit.) In the worst of circumstances, the taking of someone else’s life – or one’s own, were not uncommon. Women were documented as being the most vulnerable. They always seem to get a bum rap. It started with Eve.
The amount of care and concern and subsequent assistance given from Nebraskans everywhere to other Nebraskans affected by the wildfires is a testament to our heritage and upbringing. The values we share and the exhibition of these values are evident. It will take time – a lot of time, to repair and rebuild what was lost, but I doubt anyone will turn back and head home because the going got tough. The winds of God’s graces will always blow.
