If you drive about an hour and a half outside of St. Louis, west on I-70 and North on Route 51 for nearly 50 miles, you’ll eventually start seeing signs for Pike County scattered between cornfields and dense patches of trees. But before you even get there it’s clear that you have left everything “urban” and have crossed into its opposite—and often rival—“rural.” Billboards and McDonald’s signs have been replaced, by, well, nature, and the gorgeous view of forests and high grasses is dampened only by the persistent smear of roadkill.

Pike County has a population of about 20,000 and is made up of several smaller counties, one of which is Louisiana, where my friend Kathryn and I spent our fall break. Another friend of mine, Nick, has taken the semester off from Georgetown to single-handedly spearhead the Pike County Obama Campaign effort. When he asked me to volunteer for the weekend, I was immediately interested, not because I have any vested interest in rural Missouri other than as a political battleground, but because I was eager to learn more about the campaign process and contribute to the political energy that this election has stirred up.

It was hard work; 6 hours of phone banking and more than 12 hours of canvassing can wear a girl down, but after all was said and done, I think what affected me most during the weekend had less to do with the campaign or Obama and more to do with my first real intimate introduction to the struggle of rural America.

As we entered “downtown” Louisiana on Thursday night, Kathryn and I were immediately charmed by the small storefronts and narrow streets. We joked that we were really far from home. But we quickly noticed that more than half of those adorable storefronts had nothing but dust and old boards inside of them. Upon our questioning, Nick told us that as of a few years ago the world’s smallest Wal-Mart (according to the locals) had made its home on 3rd street, right next to the Hardee’s. The impact of this new neighbor had taken a huge toll on local businesses, pushing them to close.

The stores were the first sign that these people were suffering—but they were nothing next to the houses.

I would venture to say that between Kathryn and me, many miles were covered during our canvassing. As a result we got the opportunity to see how the people in Pike County live. Contrary to popular notions, they don’t all live on farms, and in fact there are many communities dense with homes and garages. A lot of the houses look comfortable and charming with little gardens in front and kids’ bikes leaning on the porch steps. But a shocking number had nothing in common with these sweet images of country tranquility; we saw homes begging for paint jobs and cars rusting with age. We walked up steps overgrown with weeds and overhung by dying trees and branches. We looked through dingy windows into rooms covered with filth, scattered papers and broken furniture. And people lived in them. “This is rural poverty,” Nick told us.

I know that people living in cities love to mock and tease rural Americans. They like to demean their problems and their frustrations. But my foray into Pike County left me convinced that rural America needs to be a priority and deserves more attention. The people of Louisiana are dependent on factory jobs that are exactly the types that have been exported to other countries in the recent past. Corporations don’t have the people’s best interests at heart and, I worry, neither does our government.

Nick said that the Wal-Mart has plans to close and relocate to a larger location in a different county. What will happen to Louisiana then?