As my train rolled through Wyocena, Wisconsin, I finally saw some crops growing near the tracks—friendly green rows after miles of prairie stretches. For a brief moment, the land looked as though it might actually produce something besides train stops and dust.
Wyocena is home to just 756 people, according to the 2020 census, and it feels every bit like a small-town secret. In April 2008, it was struck by a tornado (an EF-1) that destroyed several homes.
Local legend has it that the village was named by Major Elbert Dickason, who said he dreamed about a bustling metropolis named “Wyocena,” woke up, and declared that would be its name. Sometimes, you just know what works, even if it comes from dream logic. Or maybe it was his medication.
The crops you glimpse from the window feel like a quiet contrast to the tornado’s damage and the intangible roots of a dreamer. It’s a place about patience and quiet harvest, both in soil and in community history.
Wyocena: tiny, steady, and nearly the end of the line for this train traveler.
