I wrote this poem as part of my final project in my poetry class at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. I turned it in on July 12, 1990. I had turned twenty-years-old seven days before. Today would have been Gram’s 96th birthday.
Author: Irene Page 40 of 51
Every day I wake up and think, “today I am going to write about that thing in the news from yesterday.” The thing I am thinking about is one of several that came up, but I decided I would research it the next day and make a well-informed post. Then, I read the news and find another six or seven new things to write about.

Paul’s mushroom pizza. There is no way I would eat anything with those toppings. Paul said it was tasty and looked like a forest on top of his pizza.
The Flyover Brewing Company opened a little more than a month ago and people in town have been raving about how good their beer is. They also claim the pizza is delicious and everyone should eat there.
A couple of friends visited the first week they were open and raved about the beer. They wanted to try the chicken wings, but the business had run out of them. I frowned at that comment. How do you run out of chicken wings when wings and pizza is all your business sells. Still, I figured I’d give them a try. This pizza was supposed to be so tasty that even I, the great pizza snob, would like it.
I crossed the old wooden bridge over the canal on County Road 17 and continued on. The dirt road makes an almost ninety degree turn just up ahead before winding back to the left, then right, ending in a small, open area. A sign lets you know you all the people and organizations who have made this area possible. The Cedar Canyon Wildlife Management Area parking area is uneven and rocky. It’s just a dead end, but only for a vehicle.








