Oregon150

My maternal grandparents (AH and Flora Keck of Adrian, Oregon) lived on a farm called the Island at the junction of the Owyhee and Snake Rivers. My parents had migrated from the farm to the city during World War II. I was born in Portland.

Summers on the island were hot, dusty and a world of wonder for the young grandchildren of Grandpa and Grandma Keck. There was cat fishing in the river, exploring the cottonwood forest at the junction of the Snake and Owyhee, and swimming in the irrigation ditches.

In the late 1950’s, my elderly grandparent’s fields were leased to a farmer named Maynard. In my memory, he grew primarily corn. It was in long rows with six inch deep ditches between each row running perpendicular to the irrigation ditches.

Periodically Maynard would irrigate the corn. He would arrive late in the day to divert water into the appropriate ditch. Then he would gather up the snake shaped irrigation tubes which were around three feet. Row by row, he would prime each pipe and set it so that water would flow down each row of corn.

I was constantly at Maynard’s heels as he went about his chores. He was far more interesting than anything else on the island. Standard conversation between Maynard and I included the great debate about whether the Lloyd Center in Portland was bigger than The Merc in Nyssa. Maynard was adamant that the Merc was larger.

Of course, tortured by the constant questions of a city boy followed him around, he naturally decided to put me to work. He would load me up with ten or so aluminum irrigation tubes, gather up twenty or more himself and set off for the ditch he was running that day. Usually he would follow a road or ditch bank but occasionally he would cut through the corn field.

This particular summer, at the time I was there, the corn was five or six feet tall. I, eight or nine years old and much shorter than the corn, had my load of tubes and Maynard his and off he went across the field. I plunged in behind him but was unable to keep up.

Suddenly, I found myself alone in a sea of corn stalks. I realized I didn’t know which way to go. It dawned on me that I didn’t even know where I was. Why, I don’t remember, but I became very confused and frightened. I called for Maynard. No answer. My heart was pounding. I ran this way and then that. No sign of Maynard.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I dropped the tubes and ran. When I finally found my way out of the field and found Maynard, he laughed. Then he said, “Where are my tubes?” I looked at the ground and said, “I don’t know. I dropped them back there in the field.”

Maynard finally found the tubes but he spend a long time looking.

I never forgot that feeling of standing, alone, in a forest of corn stalks. It is an image that appeared in my dreams many times over the years.