Growing up, I lived on the beautiful rolling prairie hills of west central Missouri. Our house was four miles away from a town of about 1000 people. Our family land was about forty acres of virgin prairie grass surrounded on four sides by over a mile of barbed wire fence. The nights were pitch black. No city lights. No street lights. Just the milky way above. On occasion, there would be the passing car heading up the hill, its lights creating ghosts from the night.