I went for a walk today in the Sumatra jungle and into a corn field where, standing next to a 10' plant with a tassel top that can double as a basketball hoop, I knew I was lost. The neighbor 9-feet plants were too spindly to climb and I didn't dream of scaling the giant to peek at the sun. A crunch of footsteps a few rows over startled my 'Help!', and the reply, 'Pick a young one, sweet.'

I anxiously recalled my Iowa hobo days at the Brit Convention where a 1942 photograph displayed the 26-feet National Tall Corn Contest winner from Des Moines.

I parted the stalks taking thumps on the head from corns for a dozen rows to nearly knock over an old Batak lady perched on a stool picking. She dropped lightly to the ground and handed me an ear to nibble and it was sweet, however robust like the Batak. After the first line she explained that the corn was sweetest this time of year; after the second she allowed that everyone else waits another two weeks for 20% size increase; and after the third line she cried, 'You hit the peak height because tomorrow the tassels will weep and bend!'

We grabbed more ears ears and an hour later walked out the corn field into the Sumatra sunshine.


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