The Shameful Past

For decades, middle Americans have placed with pride the small ornaments in their lawns and gardens. The pointy, and often red, hats stood out among daffodils and dandelions, offering a grin and impish rosy cheeks. Onlookers took note of their jaunty stance and humble attitude, finding humor in the tiny fellows and their mischievous ways.

Few homeowners understand the garden gnome tradition, figuring these clay figurines to be nothing more than decoration. Nothing could be further from the truth.

In days of yore, the gnomes roamed the countryside, free to do all the gnome things with all the other gnomes. Eventually, humans encroached on their habitat, building homes in the suburban countryside where the gnomes were known to roam. As the expanse began to shrink, the gnomes closed ranks. They watched as the suburbs spread over the hillsides. They retreated until they could retreat no more. Overcrowded, they soon over-grazed. They were forced to look for food. So they turned to the human communities, venturing within their bounds only at night. They raided the gardens while the people slept, gorging themselves on radishes and entire heads of lettuce.

Of course, the humans did not take very kindly to the lawn buffet the gnomes has created. They soon developed traps. They caught the gnomes in droves, using them for soup and glue. Many had their first catch stuffed and mounted, leaving the embalmed corpse in the garden to serve double duty as a trophy and a warning to other hungry gnomes.

But those times have come and gone. The gnomes have moved to the wintry north of Canada. They no longer even enjoy produce, subsisting only on Canadian beer. They pose no threat to anyone. And yet, Americans all over Nebraska continue to display the grisly reminders of real estate development gone horribly. We cannot change the past, but let us not honor the senseless violence against innocent gnomes any longer. Take a stand. Steal your neighbor's gnome tonight.