By Bill Stokes
Kickass, the doorstop dog, joins the keeper and Phyllis in wondering what happened to the children: In one of their meandering forays on a recent flawless summer afternoon across many miles of those wonderful winding driftless-area roads, past hundreds of interesting farms, and through dozens of communities of all sizes–there was not a child to be seen.
Not one!
It was if all the children had followed a vindictive pied piper out of the contrary adult world; and it occasioned the keeper to imagine that somewhere behind one of those green hills, all the children were engaged in joyous game-playing and interesting activities, as he recalled the ways of his own childhood.
Perish the thought that the missing children are all closeted away indoors, staring at various sized video screens while consuming unhealthy drinks and treats on such a perfect day.
Finally, then, there was a child, albeit one almost grown: on the crest of a green hill, an Amish teenager guided a team of horses pulling a mower along the road shoulder.
Did he count as a “child?”
Of course.
The keeper felt better—recalling similar horsey things from his own childhood. But he kept hoping for a glimpse of all the youthful summer partying as he had imagined that it must now be occurring somewhere just beyond the next green hill.
