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- Story Listed as: True Life For Teens
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Aging / Maturity
- Published: 04/03/2017
So there’s a reason why you should listen to your parents when they tell you certain things. Sure, you might read that and scoff; think to yourself ‘My parents don’t know anything, why should I listen to them?’ Normally, you might be right on that, since parents just don’t understand sometimes, but a lot of times they know why you shouldn’t do something, and it might end up being bad for you in the end. Whether this bad end, of course, leads you to being sick, hurt, or even dead doesn’t matter since not doing what they told you not to do would end up saving you a whole lot of trouble, to begin with.
So here’s my story.
I live in a small little farming town somewhere in the Midwest. The town itself is close to the Great Lakes region and is fairly pretty far from a lot of major cities. The closest city to us being roughly a two to three-hour drive, you can imagine what a lot of kids in such a small town usually get up to since there isn’t much in the way of entertainment. Sure, there’s 4H during the summer and fall, a little theater that shows good movies occasionally, and a Wal-Mart, but other than that there’s driving, walking, hiking, hunting, woodworking, or occasionally, roaming the back roads in search of adventure.
For us though, the major crop that grows in the area is, of course, Corn. Stereotypical for the Midwest, but it was a staple that farmers rotated in. Our parents often told us “Don’t go into the cornfield” whenever we left, or even thought about going through the cornfields, but to us kids, and even teenagers, it didn’t make any sense. Often the corn fields were smack dab in the middle of towns, and crossing them would shave off a mile of walking. So if we wanted to go to a gas station to pick up a fountain drink and some fireworks, we often crossed over a cornfield or two because it was better to walk 2 miles and get to our destination in half an hour compared to 5 miles, and an hour and a half of walking.
No matter what was put up as warnings, we kept on doing it because we didn’t know better and just thought that since we could cross it without a problem, that we were entitled to an easier travel. To us, we weren’t hurting anything. We’d follow through the cornfield, not break any of the plants, not take anything, go through the rows, and come out the other side clean and free. We’d climb through fences, ignore warnings, and even on occasion run away from angry farmers for us trespassing on their property. Like I said, we thought we were entitled, and we thought we were right to do so, not knowing the consequences.
What changed all of that for us one day though was a day during harvest season where I and my group of friends decided to go to the gas station to “hang out” because in our small town it was the only place where we could actively be at to see all of our friends in one spot. As usual, we crossed through a barb wired fence to go through, and climb into the field. All four of us laughing and having a fun time as we drank and shared an energy drink we had, and continued to act like we were some of the coolest people in town.
Halfway through, though, we saw something in the distance. A big billowing cloud of black smoke. At first, we didn’t know what it was, and then eventually we thought that the field was on fire.
We were wrong.
We continued to walk, losing our bearings in what direction we were going at when the large cloud of smoke started coming closer into view. Eventually, we felt the rumble of the ground beneath us, heard the rusted whirring of tires squealing through the fallowed muck, and heard the crunch of stalk and bushel, and the loud roar of an engine. The combine came.
And we were right on its path.
Panic took hold of us and we tried to outrun it. Logically, we should have just moved to the side, picked a direction, and went with it in commitment. It would have saved us a lot of time, a lot of trouble, and it wasn’t like it was coming directly for US. But we panicked, ran in the opposite direction as it charged and barreled towards us.
Now, the picture I described is scary indeed. But it wasn’t like a horror movie where eventually it caught up and hurt us in any way. No, it was real life, and we outran it, but the thing moved only a few miles an hour because of it doing its job of just eating up the corn to harvest, and we eventually did manage to outrun it. Much to the chagrin of the farmer though, who stopped the combine, leaned out of his door and yelled at us to get out of the field. So we ran, collected ourselves, calmed down, and relaxed. And eventually, came to the conclusion that maybe next time we should avoid going through the corn field from then on, and listen to our parents.
It wasn’t really a dangerous day, aside from the threat of being run over, but in the end, I like to think we all learned a valuable lesson about respecting people’s property.
The Cornfield(Timothy Carter)
So there’s a reason why you should listen to your parents when they tell you certain things. Sure, you might read that and scoff; think to yourself ‘My parents don’t know anything, why should I listen to them?’ Normally, you might be right on that, since parents just don’t understand sometimes, but a lot of times they know why you shouldn’t do something, and it might end up being bad for you in the end. Whether this bad end, of course, leads you to being sick, hurt, or even dead doesn’t matter since not doing what they told you not to do would end up saving you a whole lot of trouble, to begin with.
So here’s my story.
I live in a small little farming town somewhere in the Midwest. The town itself is close to the Great Lakes region and is fairly pretty far from a lot of major cities. The closest city to us being roughly a two to three-hour drive, you can imagine what a lot of kids in such a small town usually get up to since there isn’t much in the way of entertainment. Sure, there’s 4H during the summer and fall, a little theater that shows good movies occasionally, and a Wal-Mart, but other than that there’s driving, walking, hiking, hunting, woodworking, or occasionally, roaming the back roads in search of adventure.
For us though, the major crop that grows in the area is, of course, Corn. Stereotypical for the Midwest, but it was a staple that farmers rotated in. Our parents often told us “Don’t go into the cornfield” whenever we left, or even thought about going through the cornfields, but to us kids, and even teenagers, it didn’t make any sense. Often the corn fields were smack dab in the middle of towns, and crossing them would shave off a mile of walking. So if we wanted to go to a gas station to pick up a fountain drink and some fireworks, we often crossed over a cornfield or two because it was better to walk 2 miles and get to our destination in half an hour compared to 5 miles, and an hour and a half of walking.
No matter what was put up as warnings, we kept on doing it because we didn’t know better and just thought that since we could cross it without a problem, that we were entitled to an easier travel. To us, we weren’t hurting anything. We’d follow through the cornfield, not break any of the plants, not take anything, go through the rows, and come out the other side clean and free. We’d climb through fences, ignore warnings, and even on occasion run away from angry farmers for us trespassing on their property. Like I said, we thought we were entitled, and we thought we were right to do so, not knowing the consequences.
What changed all of that for us one day though was a day during harvest season where I and my group of friends decided to go to the gas station to “hang out” because in our small town it was the only place where we could actively be at to see all of our friends in one spot. As usual, we crossed through a barb wired fence to go through, and climb into the field. All four of us laughing and having a fun time as we drank and shared an energy drink we had, and continued to act like we were some of the coolest people in town.
Halfway through, though, we saw something in the distance. A big billowing cloud of black smoke. At first, we didn’t know what it was, and then eventually we thought that the field was on fire.
We were wrong.
We continued to walk, losing our bearings in what direction we were going at when the large cloud of smoke started coming closer into view. Eventually, we felt the rumble of the ground beneath us, heard the rusted whirring of tires squealing through the fallowed muck, and heard the crunch of stalk and bushel, and the loud roar of an engine. The combine came.
And we were right on its path.
Panic took hold of us and we tried to outrun it. Logically, we should have just moved to the side, picked a direction, and went with it in commitment. It would have saved us a lot of time, a lot of trouble, and it wasn’t like it was coming directly for US. But we panicked, ran in the opposite direction as it charged and barreled towards us.
Now, the picture I described is scary indeed. But it wasn’t like a horror movie where eventually it caught up and hurt us in any way. No, it was real life, and we outran it, but the thing moved only a few miles an hour because of it doing its job of just eating up the corn to harvest, and we eventually did manage to outrun it. Much to the chagrin of the farmer though, who stopped the combine, leaned out of his door and yelled at us to get out of the field. So we ran, collected ourselves, calmed down, and relaxed. And eventually, came to the conclusion that maybe next time we should avoid going through the corn field from then on, and listen to our parents.
It wasn’t really a dangerous day, aside from the threat of being run over, but in the end, I like to think we all learned a valuable lesson about respecting people’s property.
Kevin Hughes
08/06/2018Great job! I had a similar experience on my Uncle's Farm, but without the Combine. We just couldn't find our way out of the corn, we were all just eight years old! Scary indeed. Congrats on a well deserved StoryStar of the week. Smiles, Kevin
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JD
08/07/2018My grandfather was a corn farmer in Minnesota. We sometimes got to ride the tractor with him, but I don't remember ever going into the corn field on foot. I think we probably knew not to do it, since we could so easily get lost in there. I can imagine it being like an endless maze from which there is no escape! It would be especially scary if there were a combine heading towards you, wherever you were, and not knowing which direction to run to get out....
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