Our daughter-in-law shared some pictures today of her daughter (our youngest grandchild) who was on a third grade field trip to a farm where they had a corn maze.
They were cute pictures but they reminded me of an incident in my childhood that wasn't so much fun. I think I was about ten, we were living on our country five acres and three of those acres were planted in corn that year. It was late summer so the corn was taller than me. For some reason I went into the cornfield. I think I might have been following a cat; we always had several of them around.
Anyway, I went into the corn field and once in got turned around and couldn't find my way out. I did know that if I kept walking between two rows I would eventually come to the end of a row and see my way out of the field. I walked for what seemed like a long time and finally came out at the road on the far edge of our property. From there, of course, I could find my way home. It was another long walk but I made it.
In later years my brother would work for farmers walking through corn fields with other tall enough kids detasseling the corn. He got paid pretty well for this but I was not tempted, not even a little bit.
Lucky for me this incident did not in any way affect my love of corn on the cob. Please pass the butter.
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