It's Not Hip to Stay, Say Small-Town Youth
The city boy visiting this little central Nebraska town had delivered the insult with a laugh. "You're a hick," he told Tressa Baxter. Growing up on Rural Route 3, on a farm embraced by wheat fields and cattle rangelands, Miss Baxter, 18, had spent many blue-sky mornings galloping in the saddle atop her paint mare, Angel. She had also played trumpet in the high school marching band and french horn in the concert band. She was a member of the Spanish club, the volleyball team, the track and field team and, when she had time, the cheerleading squad.