RIVER CITY JOURNAL: TOTO! I DON'T THINK WE'RE IN KANSAS ANY MORE!

A meeting in the Sunflower State offered plenty of opportunities to covet a few minutes in the La-Z-Boy.

Notes from a trip to the land of Oz:

Kansas still suffers from its geography, which is why it is best known to most outsiders as that long haul of interstate that must be traveled to reach Colorado. That isn't fair, of course. But that reputation is only strengthened by the fact that Gov. Graves or somebody found some loose change and decided to rebuild the Sunflower State's entire highway system.

Most noticeable is the Kansas Turnpike, which goes from the western edge of the Kansas City metropolitan area over to Topeka, the state capital, and then swings southward past Emporia and Wichita before stopping at the Oklahoma border.

The turnpike has been charging tolls for decades, and the last time anyone checked, the balance on the original bonds used for construction was actually higher than the original amount. Officials claimed upkeep kept the bonds from ever being paid off.

There certainly is no question that the turnpike authority likes to repair large stretches of the roadway at one time. Currently, the turnpike is reduced to one lane each way from Kansas City past Topeka. This means a trip from Kansas City International Airport (which is actually closer to St. Joseph and only recently added an airline with flights to Canada) to Topeka, normally about an hour and 15 minutes, now takes so long some weary travelers start looking for a motel in Lawrence.

A popular columnist for the Topeka newspaper mused a couple of years ago that the state ought to erect signs at both ends of the turnpike that said: Welcome to Kansas -- Left lane closed.

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Usually when you say you're from Cape Girardeau, eyebrows go up in that knowing way. It seems like everyone on the planet -- even the Kansas part -- knows that the City of Roses is Rush Limbaugh's hometown.

But last week there was a difference. Everyone in Kansas was well aware that President Clinton was starting his re-election campaign in Capaha Park.

Kansans, of course, are quite familiar with presidential goings-on, what with Bob Dole being a native from Russell. Anyone who has been to Russell, best known for its slumping oil fields on the high prairie where there are no trees and the wind never stops blowing, can understand why the Republican nominee moved to Washington.

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Kansas is one of those states where the highway department puts up enormous signs announcing the hometowns of their favorite sons and daughters. So along I-70 on both sides of town are huge interstate markers proclaiming Russell to be the home of Bob Dole. There must be enough astronauts from Kansas to send missions to every planet and a few other constellations. Between Topeka and Salina (about 110 miles) there are three along I-70. Kansas also has two Miss America's, the world's largest ball of twine and the deepest hand-dug well. What more could a convention and visitors bureau want?

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While touring the Journal-World in Lawrence, the woman serving as a tour guide looked at my name badge and said, "Oh, I know where Cape Girardeau is." I thought she would mention Rush Limbaugh or the president's pending visit in the next breath. Instead she said she had relatives in some town in Southern Illinois. I hated to tell her I had never heard of the town or her relatives.

Like President Clinton, the woman said she had stopped in Cape Girardeau for a Coke many times. As I have mentioned to several folks around the office, a soft drink usually isn't the top priority for stopping while traveling, but saying you stopped for a Coke is a little more refined.

On top of that, as I keep reminding my wife, if you bypass the Coke machine we wouldn't have to stop so often ... for a Coke. As any American husband knows, this is a battle that cannot be won.

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Every time I leave Cape Girardeau is another occasion that reminds me why home always looks so good.

Kansas is rarely a destination of choice, unless some group schedules a meeting there or you decide to visit your younger son who is in Salina.

Maybe it's the hotel pillows or the interstate monotony or the chicken a la charcoal au sauce they serve at every meeting you go to, but turning off I-55 and driving past the manicured county parks has a real relaxing effect on me.

Pretty soon we are off to Florida -- at the peak of the hurricane season, of course. I can tell you already how glad I will be to get home.

~R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.