A lot of Americans, I'll bet, dream about pioneering. It's in the stories of our history, in the values we try to pass on to our children, in our national lifeblood. "Be the first" might be a strong contender for national motto, not meaning that we need to get in line before others. It's just that we're just an inventive bunch of people with lots of ideas and curiosity and creativity. Other nations might make it better once we've dreamed up the idea, or they might make it more cheaply, but Americans continue to do a lot of initial dreaming. And pushing into the unknown.It's interesting to ponder the covered wagons, then, in this part of the country. They are symbols of that pioneering spirit. I never cease to be amazed at all the things that got packed into one of these "ships" that crossed the prairies. And the people were just as sturdy as the vehicles, walking miles and miles, day after day. With all the miles I'm walking these days, it certainly brings home to me the distance covered, the aching feet, the heat and glare of the sun, and the pull of tired muscles.
How did they do it? How did they survive the unending difficulties, pains, and perils? How did they put up with each other, day after day, with no chance to get away and catch their breath when someone else in the party was making them crazy? I especially wonder about how the women and the children did it.
I think it was that dream, that promise of the accomplishment, the new and bountiful land that lay ahead. And it was the fact that they made the journey together as groups, focused on the same goal, and knowing they would only survive if they stuck together and supported one another, showing a united front to all that might threaten them.
Many lessons await us in the parable of the pioneers.
It's true. Many Americans do dream about that part of our past, as I did as a small child. I participated in several field trips to the Baker City Oregon Trail Interpretive Center in elementary school, and loved it every time. We got wagon rides, stories, and I got to dress up in a "Little House on the Prairie" dress with a matching bonnet. I loved those days. It was something I'd never experience - could never experience - and yet, it was how my "people" (the Americans) made the region I call home livable. It was a romantic dream, pondering life as a pioneer. I find it sad that there isn't much left to "pioneer" in our day and age. What's left for me? And how did they find the strength to do it?!?
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