Point of View
By Marge Kemp-Williams, Colusa Resident
The road vibrated as the convoy of trucks carrying all sorts of wonderful edible delights rolled forward, blocking my view of all but the bare land on either side of me - land that just a few minutes before was laden with ripening crops, now on their way to market.
I could tell that the drivers behind me were getting impatient and wanted to pass the long line of trucks each pulling two open trailers full of food. But they, like I, were imprisoned as the oncoming lane was equally full of empty trucks dead-heading back to pick up another load.
I wasn’t impatient to be rid of this congestion. I was elated by it. Every time a truck barreled by I felt a surge of energy and searched to identify its source. Then it hit me, I felt pride, not personal pride, but national pride. The same pride I feel when I hear the Star-Spangled Banner playing behind athletes lined up to claim medals or firecrackers bursting in the air in celebration of the Fourth of July; proud to be American.
Driving surrounded by trucks that Sunday, I realized why I never allow myself to feel inconvenienced by the harvest. When I see a truck full of food I am repeatedly awestruck at the Yankee ingenuity that brought us to this point where enough food to feed the world can roll out with the precision of a parade, and proud to be a witness to it.
I decided that Sunday afternoon, sitting on Highway 45 behind the convoy, that a thank you was in order. Thanks to all who dedicate their lives to farming; you make me proud to be an American. And to the people behind me, I suggest you sit back and enjoy the parade. ■
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