MY HOMETOWN

The rural communities across the country have been in the spotlight the last few months. They have been criticized for their way of life and their "unworldly" views.  

I spent 24 hours back in my hometown in rural Iowa last week.  It was an unexpected, last minute trip.  *Unrelated side note: it reminded me that, often times, the best nights are the ones you don't plan in advance.  It also made me realize that you’ll never regret making an effort for someone you love.  If you know what makes somebody happy, you should do it. 

I flew in for a 24 hour visit to celebrate the end of my dad’s political career.  My family has mastered the art of the “surprise” and this was no exception.  I booked a ticket at midnight and was on a plane at 11 am the next morning.  I was able to arrive, undetected, at the Manly, Iowa Legion with my sister and brother to surprise my dad.  We walked in the back door and he was seated at a table right in front of us.  His mouth dropped the floor, tears filled his eyes and he yelled “Marilyn!! Did you know they were coming??!!”  Hugs, more tears and lots and lots of cheap beer continued the rest of the night.  

Time almost seems to stand still in these small, rural communities.  The neighborhood bar was full of all the same faces that I saw every day during my childhood.  It’s the literal and figurative village that raised me.  They raised all of us.  My last minute, unexpected visit included a round robin of people telling the same stories I’ve heard a million times that still end with people laughing until they cry.  

It’s high fives with calloused and dirty hands that know the true meaning of a hard days work.  It’s recalling fist fights in hay mounts and three wheelers getting stuck in a creek.  It’s stories of kids learning to drive in corn fields whenever they're old enough to reach the pedals.  

It’s where people TRULY help their neighbor, most of the time without being asked. It’s knowing who lives in every single house on the 12 mile stretch of road to my old high school.  It’s where coordinates are farm names, not street names.  It’s a bunch of kids who had to do chores, help with housework, and kick ass at sports and school.  It’s where families have an unofficial pew every Sunday morning at church.  It’s where the gas station is also the pizza place. It’s where you learn to respect your elders and no matter how long ago you graduated from high school, you still address your former teachers as Mr. and Mrs.  It’s where we finally share stories with our parents about all the stuff we did in high school only to realize they knew (most of it) all along.  

It’s where kids get a car for their 16th birthday that will require some level of daily maintenance in order for it to run and it was probably acquired with bartering.  It’s where cow tipping, in theory, could be a thing, but just doesn’t sound appealing because you already had to walk through the pasture twice that day to do chores.  It's where you can still pay with a check or run a tab.  It’s where people don’t lock their houses at night and don’t bother locking cars either.  It's being able to recite all of my friend's land line phone numbers and knowing if I dialed them today, it would be the same voices that picked up.  

It’s where kids learn that there are winners and losers in life.  Instead of participation ribbons, they have parents and teachers and coaches who tell you that if you want to be a winner, you have to work harder, be stronger, and be smarter than everyone else.  It’s saying it’s okay to lose.  But saying winning is better.  

To you, it’s a bunch of rednecks around a table with cheap beer.  It’s crazy people who manage to survive without Starbucks, hot spots and high end spas.   But it’s so much more than that.  To my rural upbringing, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry that I used to think I was too good for you.  I’m sorry that I thought the big city had so much more to offer than your little town.  I used to feel bad for everyone I left behind in my small town.  I felt bad for them because they didn’t know what they were missing.  But, when I look back, I realize I am the one who is missing out.  While the rest of us were busy searching for the next best thing, they were keeping things the way they've always been.  And they're the ones who got it right.  Here’s to always having a place that feels like a rural Iowa home because it doesn't get any better than that.