Being From Iowa

Being from Iowa means many different things to people. When you include it in your self-introduction you can rely on immediately finding anyone else in the room that might also be from the midwest or a descendent thereof. We practically shout out, “I’m from Iowa too!” It is a badge of honor because we know what it is to be of that small state. However, others who don’t share your lived experience will still confuse it with Idaho, Ohio, or Nebraska and sadly, we feel compelled to set them straight for their own good. I suppose now, we could just say that it’s one of the flyover states and leave it at that.

I believe that the 17 years I spent there definitely made me stronger and more persevering than I would have been growing up here in California. In the years I lived there, it appeared to be a harsh and even brutal environment. The questioning adolescent in me wondered why you would be here unless you were a farmer. It was good dirt but what other gifts did it hold? The summers were hot and humid and the winters brown and frigid. Just when you thought things were warming up, an April blizzard would appear on the horizon. The month of May always seemed nice but beyond those few short weeks there was little that was dependable for anything you wanted to do beyond the walls of your home.

I definitely learned about all types of weather in my childhood. There was no form of precipitation or moving air that we didn’t experience. It seemed there were rules passed down through the generations that corresponded to many of them, especially hail and tornadoes. Watching or listening to the weather report was an important start to each day. This too, is something that Californians simply don’t understand and why they are so often surprised by the weather but it is a ritual that I never left behind.

Around election time, every few years, brings up a curious question. Did you caucus when you lived in Iowa? No, I can honestly say I was not a part of this bizarre notion of choosing corners to “vote” in a presidential primary. Luckily, it started the year that I left for college. But the thing about curiosities is that it’s hard to keep from watching them so, yes, I will be tuned in on Monday to see just who shows up to the Republican Caucus and how many layers of jackets and coats they have donned to make the outing because this year they will have the added challenge of snow and frigid temperatures.

So, Iowans, enjoy your limelight this week. I salute all of you for your continued fortitude in eking out a living in the cold and brutal midwest. I am grateful for my time there but am truly blessed to have found a home here in California.

Letting My Field Lay Fallow

Having spent my childhood in the midwest, the sights of empty fields in winter always brought me a sense of peace and comfort. The land had given up everything it had for its harvest of corn, soybeans and alfalfa. Now it was time to rest. The frost covered expanses of brown soil only added to the image of being under the weighted blankets of winter. January feels like that. The darkness of winter solstice carries on for many weeks before we sense any increase in light. And the added chill in the air invites us into the extra weight of fleece and flannel holding us deeper into the couch. We have traversed through the turbo speed of the fall holidays - Halloween, followed on its heels by Thanksgiving and right into the rush of Christmas. And then suddenly it stops without warning. The invitations for holiday dinner cease and we realize there is no plan for dinner without a run to the grocery store. Gradually we come to realize that this is the time that nature has built into our rhythm for good reason. Slow down, breathe, cover yourself in blankets and just sit for a bit. Take a minute and become aware of this moment in time. Give thanks for the slower pace where you can actually plan out the next few weeks or months. Let yourself be reborn into resolutions or a single word to carry you into and through the new year. Take time to be, just to be. Think and ponder who I am becoming. Is it pleasing to me? Am I searching for something more? I am embracing this current feeling of emptiness. For now, I will honor the darkness, the cold and the extra layer of blankets on the bed because this too shall pass. Soon it will be time to plant again and this gift of time and empty boxes on the calendar will have vanished. In its place will be yet another rush to be, to accomplish, to do.