Waiting on the Sky: More Flyover People Essays by Cheryl Unruh, and: Flyover People: Life on the Ground in a Rectangular State by Cheryl Unruh (review)

The author of Flyover People: Life on the Ground in a Rectangular State and Waiting on the Sky: More Flyover People Essays and I have a lot in common. Cheryl Unruh and I are both writers and native Kansans. We have both lived in Emporia, Kansas, and both have roots a bit outside the rectangular state’s borders, in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Spending time in Fayetteville, it seems, even made us both feel claustrophobic amidst all the trees, with no unobstructed view of the horizon, a characteristic of our “Kansasness,” and one with which I suspect other flatlanders can identify. In fact, both of Unruh’s books, one published in 2011 and the other in 2014, will appeal to all proud Kansans, as well as to other residents of both the Midwest and Great Plains.

The books, made up of 170-some short essays that were originally published in the Emporia Gazette, starting in 2003, are essentially a Kansan’s love letters to her town, state, and region. The essays are about family, history, neighbors, landscape, and identity, among other topics. In other words, they will appeal to all midwestern/Plains peoples, who will understand the subjects that were on Unruh’s mind over the years. One essay, for example, addresses Kansans’ love/hate relationship with the relentless wind that graces (or plagues) the open landscape. Unruh notes that “windophiles”— those who love the wind— are among us. Although she does not count herself as one, she concludes that perhaps “it is time to appreciate and celebrate air velocity,” for it is not going away any time soon (“Waiting on the Sky,” 71– 72).

Beyond Kansas and regional characteristics, another prominent theme in Unruh’s work is home. In one particularly emotional essay, she writes about saying goodbye to the house, in Pawnee Rock, Kansas, that she grew up in. She remembered how the house sheltered the family during the 1974 tornado outbreak in their county, the striped linoleum on the basement floor, and the crayon scribbled on the wall when she was a child (Flyover People, 111– 112). Again, these are emotions, experiences, and memories that will resonate with most midwesterners.

In addition to establishing a human connection, a link from one Kansan to others, Unruh’s essays speak of Kansas and Plains identity. Unruh and her husband travel Kansas and she writes about small towns, both present and historical. She writes about good work that Kansans do for each other— such as volunteers who got together and remodeled a café for a deserving small business owner (Flyover People, 47– 48). In short, Unruh’s essays are about the best of Kansas— landscape, people, community.

My favorite essay in both books is called “Seed Potatoes,” from November 2005. Unruh relates that she found an old box containing sympathy cards that Kansans sent to her family following the death of her grandfather, forty years before. On her favorite card, a man had written of Unruh’s grandfather: “He gave us some seed potatoes once and we always appreciated that” (Flyover Country, 107– 8). A seemingly simple statement, but one that says a lot about the man concerned. I think I liked this story so much because, once again, Unruh managed to make a connection to my own life. I remembered messages my family received after my Kansas grandmother’s death and that one of them, in particular, expressed gratitude for a kindness my grandmother had done decades before— one that obviously meant a great deal to the writer. Although Unruh and I do have things in common, by the time I finished her essays, I grew more and more sure that most Kansans or midwesterners that read them would feel the same. Place is our common denominator...