By William Cronon
Thinking about "a sense of place in Wisconsin," I'm inevitably tempted to reflect on my own experience of the state's landscape. My sense of this place is mainly that of a child and young adult growing up and coming of age here.
THE SENSE OF PLACE
By Wallace Stegner
If you don't know where you are, says Wendell Berry, you don't know who you are. Berry is a writer, one of our good ones, who after some circling has settled on the bank of the Kentucky River where he grew up and where his family has lived for many generations. He conducts his literary explorations inward, toward the core of what supports him physically and spiritually.
PLACE: A CONDITION OF THE SPIRIT
By Gretchen Holstein Schoff
Imagine for a moment three people deep in conversation. One is a blue-eyed, slouch-hatted academic, a pipe-smoking professor with enough credentials to be on the lecture trail or working the halls of legislative bodies, when he is not teaching and guiding graduate students. The second is a graduate of an expensive women's college. She is the child of a Pittsburg family of considerable wealth. Her grandmother has a chauffeur, and the young woman remembers going to the library accompanied by the family's live-in black maid. The third member of the group is a dirt farmer, lean, a worker, and owner of a small piece of land. His land can support his wife and children, but not much more.
A SENSE OF PLACE
By Yi-Fu Tuan
In a teasing mood at the beginning of the semester I may say to my class, "Welcome to the United States. You will find that this is a great country. I hope you will grow to like it." The young Americans express surprise. How is it that this Oriental person is inviting us to feel at home in our own country?