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Roll on Silver Chief
Take me back to Kansas Past the grain elevators, Giant ghosts punctuating summer lightning nights Take me back on your rolling rails to the boiled clean, starched cotton air To grandpa’s gentle tough hands That out-lasted dust storms, depressions, flashing tornados, But no Oz at the end. Roll on Silver Chief Take me back to Kansas To the smells of canning peaches in the wash house, Huge white onions in enameled pans on the back porch, Tiny pies shaped at my spot of sun in the stuffed and fragrant pantry, To grandma’s talented hands creating Edible memories. Roll on Silver Chief Take me back to Kansas To grandpa, thin, strong, infinitely patient Until too many grandchildren Bang on the mahogany stand-up piano; Photos of Daddy, aunts and uncles atop it, Too much for an Irish-American ear, he locks it. Another key opens the built-in cabinet of ornate albums, The aroma of old books (King Arthur and his knights), and one Hypnotic paperweight. Roll on Silver Chief Take me back to Kansas Let my cousins and me run free in the barefoot summer Unmindful of stones and stickers Coming in only when the chiggers take over the night To firefly catching and 4th of July sparkling Take me to skip across the warm raised wooden sidewalks of Nokoma Arriving at the little post office with its bank of tiny metal doors, Communication treasure boxes, Rarely, if ever, locked. Roll on Silver Chief Take me back to Kansas To pickup truck rides to a hundred barnyard cats Then back again to crank and crank the hard won cream into Sweet snow served with saltines from the warm scented stove To jews harp twang and kitchen crowd of relatives Back to town hall events and expansive cattle men dressed Grand Old Opry elegant. Roll on Silver Chief Take me back to Kansas To collect eggs from feisty chickens, To the outhouse and the clothesline my Teddy bear Came to know too well, To the cool napping basement, leathery cowboy odors, Iron bed steads, shelves of summer’s fruitful bounty Uncle’s balsa wood planes circling from childhood, Eggs stacked under the stairs. Roll on Silver Chief Take me back to Kansas To the ticking of the Regulator clock and its spooky gongs To pre-dawn air moving ghostly curtains Dressing in dotted Swiss for Sunday in LaCrosse To crackly radio weather and farm reports Grandpa’s rocker creaking, he in overalls, Long-sleeved shirt buttoned at the neck, arm garters. To the big tree rope and wood swing where I would Float and sing, float and sing. Roll on Silver Chief You proud train with your friendly porters and stainless steel basket of treats Let’s go back over the rainbow To Kansas. Copyright ©2000. Colleen Wilhite
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Visit the Home Page for Kansas
A service of the Kansas State Library