Not all rural landscapes, towns and demographics look the same. I've traveled across the U.S. and Canada enough to know the definition of rural varies by geography.
A couple years ago, I drove several hundred miles and traveled on four planes in one week's time - and I still managed to stay in the "Midwest." From Fargo I flew to Columbus, Ohio. From Columbus, I drove 80 miles to Athens, Ohio, to visit a friend. On my way back to Columbus, I wound my way through rural Ohio to another friend's farm for supper.
Eighty miles on rural roads in Ohio is not the same as 80 miles on rural roads in North Dakota. Eighty miles on Interstates 29 or 94 in North Dakota takes about an hour in good weather thanks to the 75 mph speed limit and no stopping. On a two-lane highway, it takes a little more than an hour at 65 mph. The roads are straight, north and south, east and west, and the hills are few and far between on the interstates in North Dakota. The ditches are deep and wide, and the farmsteads are set back from the roads. There are a few paved county roads that dart off the highways but most are gravel. Towns were built around the railroad more than a century ago and are a minimum of 30 miles apart. The vast prairie is partitioned by sections and quarters like a patchwork quilt. You can see for miles, with a few lone trees dotting the landscape as well as shelterbelts of trees planted decades ago to decrease soil erosion and define field lines. In rural North Dakota, you wave when you meet an oncoming car, even if you don't know the person behind the wheel. It's the rural way in North Dakota. There isn't a stoplight in my county - or the adjacent counties.
Where I ventured in Ohio, eight-lane freeways eventually lead to four-lane or two-lane rural highways. Speed limits are lower, and stoplights break up the drive. You pass through towns and cities what seems like every 5 or 10 miles. On the two-lane roads, in particular, the ditches are shallow and narrow. Houses and farmsteads are an arm's reach from the road. Compared with my corner of rural America, houses and buildings in Ohio are older, complete with brick and stunning historical details. The roads twist and turn with hills and curves, and green leaves adorn trees as far as the eye can see. The rural landscape is different in Ohio.
Whether it's North Dakota, Ohio, California or Texas, rural looks different - and that's OK. For the most part, rural values are similar. Your small town might have 25,000 people while mine has 1,000, but we both value the sense of community and make it a priority to support local businesses. Even though rural America has emptied into cities and the way of life has changed, it shouldn't be forgotten. We don't all have to have the same rural look and feel to preserve the rural way of life for the next generation.
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As I drove the winding Ohio roads and studied the rural towns, farms and small businesses, I was reminded they need a next generation, just like my slice of rural. Just 30 miles from my friend's farm I found myself in the heart of downtown Columbus near The Ohio State University, where more students attend than all the college enrollments in North Dakota combined. What if just 10 percent of the students who attend Ohio State set roots in rural areas to be the next generation of business owners and farmers. Would that be enough to preserve the rural way of life? How can we inspire, empower and encourage the next generation of rural residents? I don't have the answers, but even though not all of rural America looks alike, it all needs us.
