The yellow brick road

Today marks the anniversary of the birth of Frank L. Baum (May 15, 1856 - May 6, 1919) author of The wizard of Oz and a whole series of delightful tales centering on the mythical land of Oz.  I have often wondered why he chose the home of Dorothy Gale one of his most notorious characters as a small rural setting in the state of Kansas.  If one has ever visited the Sunflower State, it would soon be obvious by the 'slight' breezes.  Even Dorothy's surname proclaims the propensity for forceful gusts of wind.  It is not a well-known fact that even though Chicago is nicknamed 'the Windy City', central Kansas is actually a windier locale.  The tornadic weather from time to time naturally leant to the whole story of Dorothy's farmhouse drawn up through a swirling storm and plopped unceremoniously down where it did not belong.  These were facts I could readily accept even as a child while watching the classic film or reading Mr. Baum's books.  Little did I ever think I would one day reside in Kansas and in fact had never visited the state before my family moved here some years ago.  When one thinks of Kansas one autoimatically thinks of Dorothy and her ruby slippers.  Being short of stature I was struck by the number of fellow members  of the vertically challenged masses.  I have thought Mr. Baum must surely have visited Kansas at one time to have such insight into the number of smaller people and my mind readily accepted a reasoning for the beloved characters known as Munkins.  Well, all this is well and good, but Mr. Baum really missed the mark with the 'yellow brick road'.   I realize he passed on nearly a century ago, but seriously, had he ever travelled the roads in Kansas he would be well aware that it is the cities and larger towns that have paved roads; rural areas are lucky to have gravel and the gravel is actually huge chunks of sharp rock that ruin many a tire on our modern vehicles such at the automobile.  Sometimes they put down a couple layers called 'chip and seal'.  This like the rocky gravel is cared for by graders called 'maintainers' which push the debris to the sides and then back into the center of the roads which, by the way, have no shoulders.  All too soon any stretch of road is pocked with huge ruts and gaping holes to resemble a war zone.  Finally enough citizens complain and the right politicians tour an area and after years of patchwork and hemming and hawing something might be done about the roads.  I am very gratreful and proud to say the time has come for our small hamlet sized town.  It isn't a yellow brick road; nevertheless, we finally have a paved road leading to one of the entrances of our town. To the members of our community, having a road paved with asphalt is tantamount to having a road paved with gold.   It might be too much to ask, I suppose, to have the other roads done as well.  Or would it?  Don't make me call the flying monkeys!