Just Call Me Cornholio

Corn

When our family first moved into our house on Ravinia Drive in Tinley Park, I remember corn sprouting here and there in the back yard. I was probably two or three years old, but I distinctly remember my parents explaining that our house had been built where they used to grow corn and some of it was just now growing. That could make sense if a wayward corn kernel had germinated a couple of years after being plowed under by the home builder. I also remember always having a family garden out behind the garage. In my mind, corn was king in that garden. To this day I am fascinated by corn and the Midwest. And by corn, I don't mean the corniness of the WGN Farm Show that used to be on in the morning, or Bozo, also on WGN. That was corny. I mean the vast fields of corn you see when driving through Illinois. Corn as far as you can see. And it is so easy to grow. You stick a little kernel into the earth and a week or so later little plants poke out through the soil. During the course of the summer those plants grow tall, tall as an elephant's eye. So this spring I wanted to plant a short row of corn in our garden. Mark said no, don't plant corn. He insisted that it is too ugly for his back yard. I planted the corn anyway. Seriously, I was thrilled yesterday when I walked outside and there it was. My corn, poking its little shoots out through the earth. Now all I have to do is fight off the bunny rabbits, the crows, and Mark, and I'll have some sweet corn grown right here in my back yard, in the middle of the city.