One day I came to Tuscola Illinois.
Why? A visit to Mr and Mrs Mayer. A farmer.
The crisis for the Corn and farming in the US. Huge fields.
The horizon was in sight. For me the middle of the Praire.
Stayed in a Motel, type Psycho. Visited the Sheriff, the Jail,
the Teacher, the office and Editor of Tuscola Journal.
Had drawings from the visit published.
Had lunch at Dixie Truckers Home.
Listened to a Pianola, Gershwin, Berlin and had
dinner at the Teachers home.
Spoke to a very, very old woman who once,
in her youth had visited the Fjords of Norway.
Drank Budweiser, got drunk.
This was a kind of America I only had seen in movies.
I stayed three nights in Tuscola,
then we went southwards, Gert and I.
New Orleans.
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