The Optimum Length For A Book

Writers and readers have different ideas on what the optimum length of a book should be. Writers will say that the optimum length is whatever it takes to tell the story or to develop the subject ; readers, however ,will feel that it is a specific page count , a number or a range that varies from reader to reader. More than that number and they lose interest or , more likely, skim rather than read. In some cases, readers may even decide not pass on a book because it is too long. At the same time , if the book is too slim , it doesn’t seem ” serious’ enough.

I began thinking about the optimum length of a book because I’m currently reading Walter Isaacson’s masterful biography of Steve Jobs which weighs in at 571 pages , not including notes. Steve Jobs was a fascinating figure : a complex , driven genius whose life has much to teach us but , a hundred pages into the book , I feel like taking a break . Jobs’ biography is too good a book to skim but I find myself going slower and slower .  I find myself distracted by how many more pages there are. I know that the fault is in myself ; there are too many other books I’m interested in.

As I said , I will finish the Jobs book and I will enjoy it  but there are other books I’ve passed on because of their length. The prime example of such a book is Robert Caro’s multi-volume biography of Lyndon B. Johnson. The first Volume ,Path to Power , took up 768 pages and had another 80 pages of Notes . The other volumes are equally long  as is Caro’s earlier book , a biography of Robert Moses.  Caro’s books are the result of exhaustive research and he and his wife Ina , who helps with the research, have devoted their lives to the writing of these books. Last year I  read a lengthy article about Caro in the New Yorker and I was filled with admiration at the thoroughness of his research and the dedication that he brings to his craft. At the same time , I know I’ll never read any of his books ; they are just too long for me .

I understand that a topic such as the life and career of an American President will result in a lengthy book and I can even go along with that argument for non-fiction books in general. I cannot  buy such thinking in the case of fiction. The writer of fiction has more control over his subject matter and I prefer fiction that is tautly written. Many fiction books go on and on, when some judicious editing would have made them more readable.For instance,  I felt that way about the later Harry Potter books , particularly  Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows , which would have read better if it had been trimmed by about a hundred pages.

Some fiction writers pad their books to make them longer. I’m not saying this is true of J.K.Rowling but there are several others who are guilty of this ploy. Usually , it is because they are prolific writers who have corralled a loyal readership and are hurrying to publish as many books as they can . This is also true of some older writers who have burnt themselves out and have nothing new to say.

There are two mystery authors who come to mind ( they shall remain nameless here ) who churn out two and sometimes three books a year . They use several tricks to make their books longer and thus more substantial than they are. One stratagem is to use large print. Another is to have the main characters banter with each other in inane , pointless conversations . Yet another is to have the hero tomcat around and fall into bed with many different women , all of them gorgeous and willing; these affairs don’t advance the plot but they do increase the page count. Earlier in their careers , both these authors wrote well and some of their books have even been made into films.  It is only now that they’ve resorted to such tricks to keep the money rolling in.

The optimum length of a book will vary from reader to reader. For me , it is between 275 to 350 pages . The upper limit can be increased by another 50 pages but any book of fiction  over 400 pages  I will probably pass on unless it is extra-ordinarily good.

More Taste, Less Filling !!

I wish I had more taste buds .

In his latest book , Here , There, Elsewhere William Least Heat Moon describes some journeys he took in 1987 to investigate craft beers. Accompanied by a friend, an elderly professor identified only as the Venerable Tashmoo, Moon has himself a great time as he samples small batch beers from places as far apart as Albany , New York  and  Seattle, Washington . A Glass of Handmade is a lovely article: comprehensive , knowledgeable but fun and I find myself envying Moon and the people he meets , all of whom are able to detect and enjoy the subtleties of the brews they quaff. I ‘ve drunk my share of beer and I know what I like and what I don’t like but damned if I can go into any more detail than that. There are  some people ( though not Moon and his buddies) who claim to detect flavors and undertones in beer just as oenophiles hold forth on the complexities of wine. And don’t even get me started on drinkers of Scotch and the way they expound upon hints of cherry or spice or hazelnut in their single malts.

Sometimes I can’t help feeling that it is all a giant conspiracy to make me feel like a hick , a rube who will never understand the finer things of life . They are like  the would- be aesthetes who see profound meanings in modern art. Are these people for real or are they putting me on ?

It’s not just drink . Gourmets and  chefs such as the judges in Chopped get me in a tizzy when they talk about the nuances of food. I like food and I am pretty knowledgeable about it but when they go into ecstasies over ” the layering of flavor”, I’m lost. I can tell you most of the ingredients in a dish and hazard a guess as to how it was made but that’s about it.

I wonder if quantity and quality go together. In other words, is somebody like Adam Richman , known for downing prodigious amounts of food in Man vs. Food , also  able to detect and enjoy small differences in the taste of the food he inhales ? Same for Guy Fieri who has never met a diner , drive-in or dive that he doesn’t like. Does he really savor every morsel of the foods he eats ? That would be unfair. People who put away huge quantities of food or drink should not also be able to enjoy every bite ( or sip). I suspect however that some of them do and I am jealous .

I wish I had more taste buds .

“Here , There , Elsewhere.” : All Over The Place

When I read William Least Heat Moon’s first travel book  Blue Highways , I had no idea that it was going to be famous. All I knew was that I loved it.That was in the early eighties and since then I’ve tried to be on the lookout for Least Heat Moon’s books .  I’ve read PrairyErth and Roads to Quoz and enjoyed them both though not as much as Blue Highways. River Horse didn’t sustain my interest but that might have been my fault ; Least Heat Moon’s books have to be read slowly and savored and I am an impatient reader. It was with high hopes,  that I started reading his latest Here , There, Elsewhere but now, having read it , I am a little disappointed.

Unlike Moon’s earlier books , Here There, Elsewhere is a collection of his travel pieces written for various magazines over the past 30 years. It differs also from his earlier efforts  in that these articles are about his travels all over the world, not just America . There are travel pieces about the back country of Japan , England , New Zealand , Italy, Mexico and the Shetlands and Orkneys off the coast of Scotland, in addition to articles about his travels in the United States. The result is a book that is very uneven : when it is good , it is excellent but  there are other parts that are ho-hum. This is not surprising because these articles were written for different magazines , whose various editors had definite ideas of what their readers wanted to read and edited and slanted  the articles accordingly . Moon says that he has restored the articles to their original form but the fact remains that he was sometimes writing about subjects that he might not himself have chosen. It would have been interesting to know which magazine each of the articles appeared in .

In general , I liked the articles on America better . Moon  has a feel for this country , particularly the Great Plains , that shines through in his writing . When he writes about his travels abroad , he doesn’t write with the same authority. One of the charms about Least Heat Moon’s books is his interaction with the characters he meets on his travels . These are people whom we will never come across on our own and Moon’s conversations with them are entertaining even as they enable us to better understand the world they live in .The best articles in this book are those which are larded with such encounters .In particular I liked Out East On the North Fork ( about Long Island) and A Little Tour In Yoknapatawpha County ( about Faulkner’s mythical Mississippi county).I also love it when he describes the way things used to be in his childhood days . The Last Thanksgiving of Whispers-to-Hawks ( about an eccentric relative very proud of his Indianness) is hilarious and that are other lovely pieces about travel in Kansas in the old days and travelling through small-town America. Enjoyable too are chapters on the writing of his earlier books.

Conversely , when Moon  describes desolate landscapes, bare of people ,I find myself wanting to skip to the next chapter . A prime example is The Old Land of Misfortune , about a jaunt in south-west Oregon , a region that he calls the Big Empty. It is not a place that I would want to visit . Why would I want to read about it ?

In his introduction to the book , Moon fulminates against the style of writing in most journalism today. He laments  that ” the so-called plain style, with its hallmark ,  the simple declarative sentence free of subordinate clauses ,reigns supreme and with it , too often , a decline of fluently sophisticated locutions and illuminating modifiers.” I understand what he his getting at and I agree with him , for the most part. However , in his love of complex sentences and obscure words ( sesquipedal ? caliginous ? toponyms ?) , I think Moon sometimes goes too far , showing off rather than elucidating. I wish too that there was some order in the arrangement of the pieces, either chronological or geographical . Moon says that originally assembled them in chronological order but then re-arranged them intuitively ( whatever that means) leaving it to  readers find the theme, if any , for themselves. The lack of any order makes the book seem like a hodgepodge.

I don’t want to give you the wrong idea about Here , There, Elsewhere . William Least Heat Moon is a great travel writer and this book is well worth reading . You might however want to pick your spots and skip some of the chapters.

Capitalism vs. Socialism

” No wonder capitalism is winning. Socialism wants to make more people less miserable , while capitalism wants to make more people happy. ”.. Kazuaki Ohashi ( CEO of a web design company and an English language school , Philosopher ).

For about five seconds after I read this quote , I thought it made sense . Then I thought about it a little more and realized that it didn’t; it was just glib .

The first part of the quote I can understand , though I think it has been phrased for greatest effect , to make socialism sound bad . It is the second part of the quote that I take issue with. Capitalism doesn’t care about making people happy ; it is only concerned with getting the best return on investment. Remember Gordon Gecko in the movie ” Wall Street” ; remember ” Greed is good “. Gecko is a fictional character but his words are memorable because , for many of us , they represent the mantra of capitalists everywhere. I don’t need to give any examples because there are so many of them all around us .

Unlike Mr. Ohashi , I am no philosopher but this is what I think :

Capital and Labor will always be at loggerheads because their interests are opposed and because they are both out to get the most they can for themselves. At any period in history , one side or the other is on top . When labor is on top , we have socialism ; when it is not, we have capitalism . Neither capitalism nor socialism is bad. They serve to balance each other and society is best off when both are  equally poised. Unfortunately , such harmony is hardly ever achieved. Right now ,in the US, capitalism is in the driver’s seat thanks to the tax policies Ronald Reagan and to George W. Bush. The thing about pendulums, though,  is that they always swing back to the center. I hope it is soon.

The Armchair Traveller in Nebraska … III

Days 4-5 of a virtual journey.

In our Gering motel room , we discuss whether we really want to explore Scotts Bluff. Like Chimney Rock , its features are visible from a distance . From the road , we can clearly see the layers of siltstone, sandstone , volcanic ash and limestone of which it is formed. Do we really want to stop at the visitors center and listen to lectures by park rangers dressed up as fur trappers or pioneers? And shell out a few bucks for the privilege ? No and no.

We take US Rte 26 out of town casting a glance at Scotts Bluff every now then . Sometimes, it looks like the ramparts of a fort ( think Carcassone ) and at other times it reminds us of Ayers Rock in Australia though, of course ,it is much smaller. Then we leave it behind as we  switch to scenic route  29 N ,and forty miles later arrive at the Agate Fossil Beds.

During the early Paleozoic era , most of Nebraska was covered by a shallow inland sea  and,  much later, by the Western Interior Waterway. Fish and sea turtles lived in these waters and the shores were inhabited by dinosaurs . During the Cenozoic age , the waters withdrew and the area became home to mammals like camels and rhinoceroses ( imagine that!). During the Ice Age which followed , giant bears , mammoths , mastodons, horses, and saber toothed big cats roamed ruled for a while . They are long gone now but their fossils are  found all over the state making Nebraska a leading  site for paleontologists. One of the major fossil sites  is the Agate fossil  beds. We had planned to spend a couple of hours here but it is too nice a day to spend indoors looking at fossils , exotic though they may be . We push on instead to Chadron , 45 miles away , where there is a highly recommended Museum of the Fur Trade.

Fur traders from Europe traded  with Native American trappers since the 16th century but the fur trade peaked in the late 19th century . Native American trappers  bartered  furs  for metal implements , (particularly knives and axes) , fish hooks , cloth, woolen blankets, kettles, glass beads etc. The furs most in demand were beaver and buffalo and, to a lesser extent ,deer, bear and ermine. The fur trade was hugely profitable  for the Western traders and it introduced Native Americans to the amenities of modern civilization . Ultimately , however it proved to be the latter’s undoing as it made them dependent on the fur trade. As the buffalo and the beaver were trapped and hunted to near extinction , it led to their decline . In addition , diseases such as smallpox, to which they had no immunity , decimated their ranks .

The Museum at Chadron gives visitors a comprehensive picture of the fur trade. Located on the site of James Bordeaux’s trading post which has been meticulously reconstructed on the original foundation it has extensive collections of trade goods, such as textiles , firearms , tools and implements, provisions , and ornaments. The adjoining  Heirloom Indian Garden is a botanical exhibit of the crops the Indians grew: several varieties of corn , pumpkins, squash, beans and even watermelons. Some of the rare  seed stock is even available for sale.

We’re done with the Museum by late afternoon and drive  to Valentine about 140 miles away . It will break our return journey to Omaha ; no point in rushing . Valentine is a pretty little town in the SandHills area of Western Nebraska . The Niobrara River is located close by and offers opportunities for canoeing and tubing but , even though it’s sunny , the water is too cold for us. We settle in at the Trade Winds motel where the beds look mighty inviting after our long days on the road. First , though , we have dinner at the Cedar Canyon Steakhouse . We want to take a break from meat so my wife has the Stuffed Merliton ( Chayote stuffed with Gulf Shrimp, Creole dressing , Brabant potatoes) and I opt for the Combo Seafood platter ( Stuffed crab, fried shrimp, catfish ,  oysters , crawfish bowlettes(?)). We’re stuffed ,  but make place for a shared spumoni.

Next morning , we avail ourselves of the free country breakfast in the motel lounge , exchanging ” Good mornings ” with the other guests . People are friendly here and  I wonder briefly what it might be like to live in Valentine . I am reminded of a book Special Places : In search of Small Town America , by Berton Roueche , the journalist who wrote extensively for the New Yorker. Valentine  is very picturesque , wholesome environment with plenty of outdoor activities to keep one busy year round  but it seem  confining for a New Jersey suburbanite like me . And then , of course there ‘s the winter….

Winters in Nebraska are long and harsh. (Many museums and tourist spots are open only from April through October.) For the early settlers, winter must have been a nightmare. With homesteads so far apart , company was rare  and, in winter, it was non-existent . Not a few  settler women went mad from loneliness. Sometimes children wandered out ,and  were caught unawares by a sudden storm ; their frozen bodies were only recovered the following spring . And yet , for some , the vast , wide-open spaces became something they grew to love. One woman, born and raised in the Great Plains , was vacationing in the Berkshire Mountains in Massachusetts when she was asked what she thought of the landscape , so different from what she was used to . Her reply “ The hills keep getting in the way of the scenery.”

The gently rolling sandhills give way to the flat landscape that we first saw on our outward journey . Driving the treeless prairie , with the ribbon of empty road stretching into the distance , there is plenty of time to reflect , for the mind to wander. The herds of bison that used to cover the landscape all the way to the horizon are long gone . In their place are cows from the area’s many farms that gaze at us incuriously as we whiz by . Nebraska’s state beverage is milk and I can see why .There are also flocks of ducks and geese but I wish we’d been able to make this trip in late March when we would have been to see the huge flocks of sandhill cranes . These migratory birds stop to rest and feed at the Platte River as they make their way north. Their numbers are truly astounding . A single flock might  have as many as 10,000  birds and , in total , half a million of sandhill cranes ( 80% of the world population ) pass through Nebraska. What a sight it must be to see them all together.

In his new book  Here , There , Elsewhere William Least Heat Moon says that in fifty years of travelling , he has passed through every county in the United States ( all 3000+of them ) at least once . It is not a feat I wish to emulate. I don’t see the point. One county is much the same as its neighbors  and nothing is to be gained from traversing all of them except to be able to say ” I’ve done it .” To me,  travel is a means of getting to know a place and if one’s purpose is to write about one’s travels , to do so from a unique perspective . Even on this virtual journey through Nebraska I’ve passed through less than half its counties and that’s enough for me. What this journey has given me is some sense of huge this country is , how empty parts of it are ,and how heroic  the pioneers  who struck out into the unknown as they traveled west.

Compared to New Jersey , few of the towns we pass have Indian names . Almost all of them are of British origin and many of them are commonplace ones that are repeated elsewhere in the U.S .  Almost 45 % of Nebraskans today claim German or Czech ancestry ;their forefathers emigrated here much later, after the land had already settled by colonists  from England. We take U.S Route 20E past Johnstown , Newport , Stuart , Atkinson and Emmet and at O’Neill ,we turn onto US 275. Eastwards we hurry through Ewing , Clearwater, , Norfolk , West Point and Fremont finally arriving at Omaha .

Our virtual tour of Nebraska is at an end and ,with it, comes a feeling of accomplishment .

Next : Iowa

The Armchair Traveler in Nebraska -II

Day 3 of a virtual journey

After a leisurely breakfast next morning , we set out for Lincoln about 60 miles from Omaha  . It is both the state capital and home to the University of Nebraska but few out -of staters know that it wasn’t always called Lincoln. Originally named Lancaster, it was  re-named Lincoln in 1867 in  honor of the recently assassinated President. Typical of towns in middle America, it has but one distinguishing feature : the central tower of the state capitol building which juts almost 400 feet into the sky. The tower is surmounted by a bulbous dome topped by a 20 foot high statue of a sower and its decidedly phallic appearance has resulted in the nickname ” The Penis of the Prairie”. Driving towards Lincoln , we can see why . ( LOL)

Lincoln is a pleasant enough city that, in 2008,  was selected The Healthiest City in America . Forced to choose between its  attractions ,we plump for the Nebraska History Museum . We are not disappointed. Though the exhibits could have been better displayed , they are very interesting . Some exhibits  can be accessed online ( www.nebraskahistory.org ). Of particular interest is a Gallery of Mugshots dating back to the early 1900′s. One photo shows a craggy faced  Jake Vohland , arrested after a botched attempt to rob his neighbor’s chicken farm  in 1931, at the height of the Great Depression . For the crime of stealing five chickens (worth $ 5 total), he was sentenced to a year in the penitentiary. He was undoubtedly guilty but one can’t help feeling a little sorry for him. Also of interest is a collection of World War II posters.

Faced with a 2 hour drive to Grand Island , we opt for  a light lunch and wind up at the Green Papaya on N.27th Street. Lincoln must have a sizeable Vietnamese population because we see at least two other Vietnamese joints in the vicinity. We have chosen well. The spring rolls are crisp and the Special Rice Noodles w/ crab , Shrimp and Pork in a rich broth really hits the spot. Refreshed but not weighed down by the food , we hit the road ,taking I-80 W and  arriving  at Grand Island around 4:30 in the afternoon.

Originally founded by German immigrants, Grand Island ( pop . 50,000) lies between the Wood River and the Platte River . Three times designated an All-American City , its economy is heavily dependent on  sugar beets and the meat-packing industry. We drive by the  Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer  which features a living history village that shows life in a 1890′s era prairie village . It sounds interesting but we are museumed out . I notice that the museum building bears a strong resemblance to the U.S embassy in New Delhi . Not surprising because both were designed by the architect Edward Durell Stone .

The Nebraska State Fair is  held in Grand Island but in September and it is still only May. We drive instead to the west part of town to Tornado Hill, a reminder of the  massive storm that hit Grand Island in 1980 when no less than seven tornadoes leveled much of the town . Debris from the storm was burnt and buried here .  The hill it forms is a grim reminder of that day and how vulnerable Nebraska is to the vagaries of the weather.

Next morning , we continue on I-80W to Gering near Scotts Bluff . It is a long drive ( about 320 miles) and traffic is sparse. The prairie landscape is flat and it stretches on and on . Driving like this , I am struck by the vastness of America . As the car eats up the miles and we drive in air-conditioned comfort , I think back to what it must have been like for the pioneers who travelled these same roads . I said ” roads” ,  but of course there were no roads then.

It is impossible for us , today , to imagine the hardships that the pioneers faced on  their journey. Their  ”prairie schooners” carried up to 2,500 lbs. of household goods but were not built for passenger comfort. There was little room inside in which to sit and the interior became stifling in the summer heat. They did not have springs and rather than suffer the jolting progress, passengers would get out and walk whenever the  wagons had to go across rocky terrain. The Platte valley was relatively flat but elsewhere there were sharp inclines and drops . In spite of all precautions , wagons would sometimes break loose and tumble down a slope to wind up as kindling.

Getting to their destination was difficult enough  but , once arrived , the pioneers’ life was an unending battle against the elements . Clearing the land , growing food , building sodhouses and cabins ,surviving the harsh winters,  fending off  disease and  avoiding work-related injuries taxed those early settlers to the utmost . Nor was farming easy . One legend tells of an Indian watching a settler struggle to plow the sod , to turn it over, and murmuring “ Wrong side up.” Many sodbusters took the advice and turned to cattle raising ; it was only with the advent  of farm machinery that it became possible to farm on a large-scale . Today,  Nebraska grows much  corn , wheat and sorghum but  is also  a leading beef producer.

We go past Kearney and Lexington, Cozad , Gothenburg and North Platte. At Gothenburg , we see a sign for a Pony Express Station . Intent on getting to Gering , we don’t stop but I try to remember what I know of the  Pony Express . Between  April  1860 to October 1861 , Pony Express  riders provided the fastest mail delivery between St. Joseph, Missouri, and Sacramento, California.  In total there were 183 men that rode for the Pony Express during this period , all of them  young and  skinny,  expert riders willing to risk death daily ( ” orphans preferred” ).  Most  were around 20 with the youngest being  11 and the oldest  in his mid-40s.One of them was 15-year-old William F. Cody , who later became famous as Buffalo Bill.  The riders’ average weight was 120 pounds and they worked for $100 a month, riding between 75 and 100 miles a day with fresh horses being provided every 10 to 15 miles.  The speed of the horses averaged 10 miles an hour. There were about 165 Pony Express stations along the route of almost 2,000 miles.The cost of a 1/2 ounce letter was $5 when the rides began but by the end it had dropped to $1 . The advent of the Civil War put an end to the Pony Express.

From time to time we catch a glimpse of the Platte , a heavily silted river that meanders across the plain in a series of S-curves. An early traveler said of it that it was ” bad to ford , destitute of fish , too dirty to bathe in and too thick to drink ” It is an apt description. At Ogallalla, we turn off the Interstate and take U.S Route 26 . A little later , we see a sign for Lake McConaghy ; after the unending vistas of the prairie ,  it is tempting to stop and feast our eyes on a body of blue water. We fight the urge and push on past Oshkosh, Lisco, Broadwater and Bridgeport. A few miles past Bridgeport , we catch sight of Chimney Rock , a tall sandstone spire rising three hundred feet above the prairie. For pioneers on the Oregon , California and Mormon trails it must have been a most welcome sight , a sign that they were one step closer to their destinations.The Native Americans who dwelt here called it ” Elk Penis ” but the white settlers gave it its present name. It is an impressive sight, visible for miles around. . There doesn’t seem to be any point going to the Visitor’s Center a couple of miles away. What more is there to see or learn?

We press on and reach Gering , where we plan to spend the night . Close by is Scotts Bluff , a massive topographic formation that reaches a height of 800 feet above the prairie floor. It is an impressive sight , second only to Chimney Rock in its significance to pioneers. We debate whether we should visit it or leave it for the morning . Then we realize that it is already past 5PM and that the visitor’s center is closed. Besides ,we are tired. Secretly pleased that we don’t have to make a decision, we  check in at a convenient motel in Gering . After a refreshing shower,  we go to the nearest fast food joint that we can find, a Subway,  and dine on a couple of footlongs  ( BMT for me , teriyaki chicken for her) with all the fixings, washed down with Diet Coke . Sometimes , the effort of finding a good restaurant is too much.  Scotts Bluff can wait till the morrow. It’s been a long day.

The Armchair Traveler in Nebraska – I

At least in Eastern newspapers , there are fewer references to Nebraska than to any other state in America . Back in 1970-71 , when the University of Nebraska Cornhuskers  won consecutive national football titles under Bob Devaney , the state did get some ink but, since then , it seems to have fallen off the map.

I began my exploration of Nebraska by checking how the state got its name and why Nebraskans are known as Cornhuskers.

Nebraska is a variation of Nebrathka ,a Otoe Indian word meaning ” flat water ” , a reference to the Platte River. The Platte is  an extensive river system , an important source of water but  too shallow for navigation ; it has been memorably described as ” a mile wide and an inch deep”.  As for the term Cornhuskers , it was initially  used to describe Iowans, corn being the primary crop in Iowa. Nebraskans were originally known as Bugeaters ( after the bull bats that infest Nebraska’s plains) and one can’t blame them for wanting a change . Iowans preferred the name Hawkeyes and, around 1900 , Nebraska began to be known as the Cornhusker state.

Nebraska is one of the Southern Great Plains states : though , when I hear of the Great Plains States , it is Kansas and Oklahoma that come to mind , not Nebraska .Likewise, I don’t associate Indians ( i.e Native Americans) with Nebraska. In fact, several Indian tribes including the Pawnee , the Sioux  and  the Blackfeet ranged all over  Nebraska. Beginning in the 1840′s , the flood tide of emigrants overwhelmed the Indian tribes . Ravaged by smallpox , their food source( bison) slaughtered almost to extinction , their lands expropriated (“ bought” by the U.S government for an average 10 cents an acre), the Indians  were confined to reservations . Attracted by the  prospect of virtually free land, land hungry pioneers  crossed the Great Plains annually in thousands of wagons . Many of them pushed  on to Oregon and California , but some settled in the great Plains . The Oregon Trail goes latitudinally across Nebraska and many of those who settled there came from Pennsylvania via Ohio, Indiana and Illinois . Europeans ( Germans , Ukranians ) also added to the mix , the  Germans from Russia being particularly welcome  because they were used to farming grasslands.

My virtual trip through Nebraska begins in Omaha .

Not owning any Berkshire -Hathaway stock , I can’t attend native son Warren Buffet’s annual shareholders meeting . No matter. There are several other places in Omaha that  I’d like to visit, chief among them the Henry Doorly Zoo and Aquarium . I’m not a big fan of zoos ; they evoke childhood memories of seeing  sad-eyed animals ceaselessly pacing their cramped cages. Modern zoos are different though and the Henry Doorly is one of the best. The main attractions for me are the Lied Jungle ( showcasing wildlife from the world’s rainforests) , The Desert Dome ( the worlds largest indoor desert housed under the world’s largest glazed geodesic dome ,with desert life from South Africa , Australia and the Sonoran desert  ) , Operation Madagascar ( featuring the Lemur Walkway ), Kingdoms of the Night  ( the world’s largest Nocturnal Exhibit), Hubbard Gorilla Valley, Hubbard Orangutang Forest and the Scott Aquarium ( featuring a 70 – foot Shark tunnel that we walk through as the Sharks swim on the other side of the glass overhead).  The Henry Doorly is spread out over 130 acres so we take a break at the Lozier IMax theater and watch a 3D presentation , Dinosaurs Alive .

Pleasantly tuckered out , we’d drive to The Drover , a steakhouse-restaurant  famous for its whiskey soaked steaks. Steaks are marinated for 15 minutes after the order is placed ,so we sip on lemon drop martinis while we wait . My  14 0z. Whiskey Soaked Rib Eye and my wife’s 7 oz. Whiskey Soaked Strip Steak are excellent , reminding us why Omaha is famous for its steaks. However , as a suburbanite accustomed to buying neatly packaged meat in supermarkets , I am uncomfortable with the thought that ,not far away ,live cattle are being auctioned off at a price per head roughly equal to that of our two steak dinners .

Our next day in Omaha is  busy  . We start out by driving to Boys Town , SW of Omaha.  It was founded in 1917 by a young Irish priest , Father Flanagan , who grew discouraged with his work with the homeless in Omaha. He started out with a single boarding house orphanage that became Father Flanagan’s Home for Boys but has since grown into a national organization  that has helped over 700,000 children . Father Flanagan and his cause became famous thanks to the 1938 movie ” Boys Town ” starring Spencer Tracy in an award-winning performance. A CD driving tour does an excellent job of educating visitors on the history of this wonderful organization .

Our next stop is the Durham Museum on S. 10th Street where we make a beeline for the original soda fountain in the Union Station exhibit . Fortified by a malted and an all-beef hot dog we stroll through two exhibits of particular interest . The first is the Baright Home & Family Gallery ,cut-away exhibits of typical homes during the period 1880-1940. The other is  the Davidson Gallery with its exhibits of railroad cars , steam locomotives and Mack trucks . Seeing the old stem locomotives brings back memories of waiting at railroad crossings , listening to the long drawn out whoo- whoos as the engines went by pulling a train of railroad cars . Today’s Acela is sleek and fast and infinitely cleaner than those old coal driven monsters but it doesn’t evoke a sense of fondness. With fewer and fewer of us travelling by train , I wonder what today’s kids think about an exhibit like this.

Pressed for time , we nevertheless spend a couple of hours at the  Joslyn Art Museum downtown . It has an excellent collection of masterpieces by Renaissance artists ( Titian , El Greco, ,Veronese , Van Ruisdael  et al) , Impressionist painters ( Pissarro, Renoir and Monet ) and American artists  ( AlbertBierstadt, Thomas Hart Benton , Grant Wood , Jackson Pollock and others). Wandering through gallery 16, I am brought up short by a sculpture by Subodh Gupta , an Indian artist. His untitled work  is a wall mounted montage of stainless steel tiffin carriers ( dabbas) and kitchen utensils jammed into a circular frame . Who says Omaha doesn’t move with the times?

That evening , our last in Omaha , we stroll along the cobbled streets of Old Market . After we have had our fill of quaint shops , we repair to the Twisted Fork  Bar and Grill for a brew ( Moose Drool draft , Trout Slayer Ale) and a brace of Chuck Wagon Chicken Pot Pies. And then back to the hotel to plan our trip to Lincoln and points west before we nod off.

Afterthoughts : 1)We who have always lived in cities tend to think of the heartland as bland and uninteresting . Two days in Omaha have already taught me  that ‘s simply not true.

2) Isn’t it amusing how focused we are on being ” The World’s Largest ____”? At the Henry Doorly Zoo , there were no less than three attractions that bill themselves thus .

NEXT : Lincoln , Grand Island , Scott’s Bluff and points west