I ain't never seen an antelope...

 Home on The Range

Oh give me a home, where the buffalo roam
Where the deer and the antelope play,
Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

In 1862, for a small fee, The Homesread Act afforded one to claim 160 acres as long it was agreed to build a house and farm the land. The intent, Go West Horace.

Home, home on the Range;
Where the deer and the antelope play;
Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Horace did, and so did Dr. Brewster Higley.  He and horse hoofed it to Smith County, Kansas. Long about 1872, after many nights of starlit skies, the peace, quiet...beauty of the environment, he wrote a poem entitled My Western Home - contained the lyrics here, I can't get the 'type' to switch from italic to regular because my laptop went kapooey and I'm using my crappy Android phone to blog.

Where the air is so pure and the zephyrs so free
And the breezes so balmy and light
That I would not exchange my home on the range
For all of the cities so bright

A tad later someone added music to the poem. Wagons rolled across America..as they circled for an overnight, made stew, the guitars would come out, all would sing the song. Lo and behold in 1947 it became the State song of Kansas. Victor, being from Missoui, you hate Kansas?  

Hate is a strong word, but I do wonder whatintheheck was in that stew if they was seein' antelope. Maybe it made em see that bird in the sky too...you know, that big beak Jayhawk.

Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Bing sang the most popular version, FDR coined it "My favorite song". America in transition, again.

How often at night when the heavens are bright
With the light of the glittering stars
I stand there amazed and I ask as I gaze
Does their glory exceed that of ours?

It really is amazing (to me anyways), no matter our skin color, language, religion (or not), no matter where/what type of abode we live - all of us have in common the light of the glittering stars.  Makes ya not wanna utter a discouraging word, even about Kansas.

Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Sometimes I like cloudy skies. Kids in the street playing stick ball, hollerin' "Car coming!" for a brief stymie halt. Cul-de-sacs, Gravel roads, Interstates, houses so close together (like Chicago) there aint room for a driveway tween em.. a good ole rain, follow by Sol and a rainbow. Rainbows are unique, different, like us. All of us, beneath the glittering stars.

Getting a tad sappy mebbe, we are lucky to live here. We can go anywhere, any time, do anything (within reason/law) we wanna.Even in/to Topeka or Smith Center. Even Cawker Center, Kansas, home to The Biggest Ball of Twine in the entire US of A.

OK, truth is, I like Kansas.  Their fans are probably nicer to me than I am to them. Did I mention how wonderful Free Speech is?

Cheers to Bing... FDR... ole Brewster... Frank Stoeber... WHO?  Frank, he created that ball of twine...Deer.  Zephyrs... kids who write on sidewalks across the land with rock chalk. Antelopes.  Rainbows, that perty Fruit Loops bird, all that.

Home. Home on the range. 

Paul Harvey, good day.