Discovering truth by getting lost

Usually around mid-afternoon, just as the summer sun made the haymow too hot to play in, I'd say to my little brother: "Want to go into the corn field?"

His eyes grew big as he nodded, and we were off. Two or three rows into the corn, and we couldn't see the edge. Then, creeping along as if in a jungle, we probed deeper, the stalks above our heads shielding us from the sun, the breeze rustling through the long leaves keeping us cool.

Though this new world offered a bevy of potential adventures, its alienness alone was enough to bewitch us. Row upon row of green-colored stalks, all looking the same, were packed densely enough to keep out the world's sounds. Then the quick crack of a single stalk behind us - we swirled about, but saw nothing.

Hearts pounding, we raced out of the field to the open contour of soybeans.

These days, people still enter corn mazes to get scared. Sometime during the early 1970s, farmers who sold pumpkins, sweet corn and apples got the notion that a corn maze would bring more people to their stand. It simply was a matter of thrift. Now corn mazes can be found all across the Midwest, New England and Canada.

As with theme parks, competition and keeping the public interested demands that a farmer raise the ante every year on his maze. It's no longer enough to hack down a few rows of stalks; mazes have to be designed prior to planting, sometimes with global positioning satellites and computer programs (Anyone ready for SimCornMaze?). On occasion, they even hire professionals.

But design alone isn't enough, either. Some farmers erect large towers for walkers to map out their route in advance, some place benches along the way for tired walkers. A few offer a cassette tape with directions (for rent, of course). An increasing number boast a "volunteer maze rescue person" to lead lost walkers out of the labyrinth.

One even provides a cell phone contact in case you get lost.

As kids, we didn't have any tape recorders or cell phones to find our way through the corn - just intrepidness. Staying in the cornfield as long as possible before getting scared tested our mettle. Being able to figure our way out under such tension meant mastery over Mother Nature.

The fear of being out of control rests deep in our psyches, but those who seek it as a thrill know full well that their roller coaster ride will end in a few minutes or that the monsters leaping from the haunted house's dark corners are just costumed people.

Perhaps this explains some people's aversion to maps despite traveling roads they've never been on. Where's the honor in following another person's already proven path?

My parents always warned me: "Don't leave your brother alone in the cornfield. He'll get lost."

That sort of was like telling a kid not to touch a hot stove - the curiosity of what just what might happen if I left him alone overwhelmed me. So one day in early August, I got him lost in corn that reached a good couple of feet over our heads.

I'd been careful to watch my steps so I wouldn't get lost. Exiting the field, I waited alongside the gravel road for ... well, I didn't know exactly what would happen. That was the whole point of getting him lost, after all.

And then, from the middle of the 40-acre field, in a voice that sounded like he was drowning, I heard him crying for help.

Whenever human fear comes into play, ritual and myths certainly follow. The Greeks told of the great Athenian hero Theseus, who entered the Labyrinth and cleverly slew the half-bull-half-man Minotaur. The Romans created mazes and labyrinths on the floors of their home and in street pavement, the positioning playing a part in various rituals and processions.

In Iowa, corn mazes weren't just a way for farmers to earn a little extra but to create traditions, events where families could test their smarts, and in solving the puzzle, amuse themselves and bond. Along the way, some farmers reasoned, they also could teach about our state's agricultural heritage and in doing so create a sense of place that our mobile, mass marketed society is ripping from all regions.

But just as no one goes on a roller coaster primarily to learn about physics, so no one goes to a corn maze to learn about farming. They go for the thrill of it.

If you want to know true fear, do something that your parents tell you not to.

As a kid, I was determined to make sure they didn't know I'd deliberately lost my brother. Back into the cornfield I ran, pausing momentarily to hear what direction he was shouting from (he kept moving around), sometimes hollering that I'd be right there. My heart raced as I looked back and forth across the rows, uncertain if I'd gone that way or not.

Finally, I spotted him. With a big smile and not a tear on his face, he started to shout for me to help him then stopped.

"I'm all right," he said, grinning. "I just wanted to see what would happen if you thought I was lost."

(originally published August 1, 2004)