by Alicia Rudnicki, Library Mix

People don’t pay much attention to Missouri in my corner of the world.

Missouri doesn’t border the state where I live or command much attention in the local newspaper or broadcast news.

It’s just sort of there… in the heartland of the Midwest… quietly minding its own business. So, you might ask, how did I come up with this issue’s theme?

A bigger 'neighborhood'
I’ll be truthful: My daughter attends college in Missouri, so it has become an extension of my “neighborhood.” That is why I know that Missouri has armadillos—those ungainly, oddly armored, lap-dog size creatures with long tails that one expects to see in Texas and Mexico.

All too often, armadillos end up on the side of Missouri’s country roads, feet pointed to heaven and long gone from the cares of this world.

Wikipedia says that despite their short legs, armadillos can move quickly. But obviously they can’t move quickly enough.

I feel compassion for animals that don’t make it across the road. Aside from being an animal lover, I am drawn to thoughts about their roadside demise due to a terrible tendency to draw comparisons between what may seem like disparate thoughts.

Knocked by the roadside
It occurs to me that much the same as armadillos, too many people find themselves knocked to the side of the road these days without sufficient armor to avoid painful financial blows.

If you are lucky enough to survive the hit, it’s still difficult to turn over and get back on your feet. But one must.

Finally, it occurs to me that this is the reason I am so drawn to all the stories in this issue of Library Mix. All are about survivors persisting and succeeding.

For a delightful glimpse into the lives of Missouri’s armadillos, visit the Southeast Missourian online. It provides some rare views of cautious armadillo behavior, such as standing up on hind feet to sniff the air and check for potential problems. Good idea.