A Writer’s Life: Things Growing Up in Iowa Taught Me

I was born in Iowa. Raised in Illinois and Missouri and finally returned to Iowa at age 11. I was born in the same hospital my parents were born in.

I come from a small family. My mother is an only child. My dad had an older sister, who had one son. My grandparents had many siblings, but my immediate family remains small. Smaller than it began. (More on that later).

I did not live on a farm, unless you count a few months after I graduated high school when I lived with a guy and his family (not a good guy – hence the ‘few months’). I grew up in a small town that had just 4500 people in it (it’s nearly doubled since). My graduating class boasted a whopping 174 people.

All things being equal, though, Iowa had a lot to teach me, as I would imagine most Midwest states do. Having lived on both coasts now, I can say with certainty that growing up anywhere else would not have served me near as well.

And here’s why.

Hard work is rewarded, but the reward may not make its appearance as quickly as you might like.

My dad worked for the Army. He was never in the Army, but he worked for them for almost his entire career. Anything they asked of him, he did. Nights, weekends, holidays. He never said no. Not only was he doing right by his family and his career, but he was also instilling in me a thing called “work ethic”. I carried that work ethic with me my entire career as well.

When I landed in Wisconsin many years ago, I took a systems analyst job with a company that had about twelve employees. It was nights, weekends, holidays. But I did that job to the very best of my ability and I did it cheerfully. It was a great group of people, and my boss and the company’s owner never shied away from telling the employees when they were exceeding expectations.

Years later, the company was sold to a bigger corporation. Before the sale, some of us were offered a ‘retention’ package. Two years later, we received the benefits of those years of hard work. It was a bigger check than I have ever seen in my life, and I still have most of it sitting in the bank. It is why I will be able to self-publish without going into debt. It is why I have a shiny car and a retirement account aside from my 401K.

It was a reward for hard work. It took nine years to get it, but I smile every time I think of it, and I work now just as hard as I did then. Nights, weekends, holidays. Without a work ethic as strong as I was shown, I might not be in the lucky position I am today. And I am grateful for it, every day.

Former Post Office, Now City Hall, DeWitt Iowa

Family is important. Get out of your own head to enjoy it

I did not come into this world as an only child, but I may as well be one now. I have an older sister to whom I have not spoken in almost twenty years. She has not spoken to my parents in fifteen years. There is a laundry list of reasons for this, and I won’t bore you with them. Suffice it to say, she wanted to be an only child and I ruined that for her. She wanted my parents to go on helping support herself, her husband and their two children after my father retired and they could not do it on a limited income. She wanted.

And wanted.

And could not get out of her own head.

I don’t really miss her. She and I did not have a good relationship growing up. I was everything she was not: outgoing, happy. I do, however, miss her children, my niece and nephew.

I am guessing the situation would be different if they knew about the big check above, but they do not, and will not.

My parents are 79 and 80 years old. I spend at least two weeks a year with them (I fly home), sometimes, we meet in Ohio, and they have driven out here twice. I send my mother little gifts throughout the year. I text with my dad nearly every day. It does sadden me that my sister will not have had the time with them I have had. Holidays and birthdays, and summers. She will not have their wisdom in their advanced age. She will not know everything they had left to teach her. My parents miss their grandchildren who are now adults, but have been taught to fear my elderly parents.

Family has come to mean so much to me as I get older. I want to know where I came from. Why I sit how I sit (my mom’s mom used to sit with her foot flat on the cushion of the couch, knee bent and so do I), why I hate onions (like my dad does), why I wear glasses as my mom does. Those things – little, insignificant things – make life fuller and richer.

They tell you where you came from.

They give you stories to tell in your own writing.

To know who you are, you need to know where you came from and where you’re going.

So yes, family is important. But if you stay in your head, you will miss your chance. Don’t.

You can’t be everything to someone, especially if you are nothing to yourself

Despite my growing up outgoing and happy, I did not always have the world’s best self-esteem. Let’s just call a spade a spade and say I was the fat kid everyone picked on. I had great friends, do not misunderstand me. But I was never part of the ‘in’ crowd and I never had the letter-sweater boyfriend.

I was the weird kid who wrote stories and played in the band. And as such, I often went out of my way to try to be everything to everyone, in an attempt to NOT be the weird kid.

What a kick in the pants to realize, later in life, how much time I wasted doing that.

When I moved to Wisconsin (again, with the move to Wisconsin. In writing this I realize what a turning point in my life that was), I was single for ten years. I did that on purpose. I did not want to date. Had very few off-line friends. Kept to myself. Worked on myself. Made myself comfortable with who and what I was anytime, day or night.

Somewhere around year seven or eight, I achieved that goal. I was happy being alone. I did not NEED a boyfriend. I did not NEED a huge group of friends. I could sit in silence and enjoy what I had around me.

Then, and only then, did I decide maybe – maybe – I could start dating again.

It took me two years to find someone who fit my very stringent criteria of a partner. Not a boyfriend, not a husband – a partner that I could share my life with.

I did.

And I still do. We celebrated out 10th anniversary this year of being together. He is an unconventional choice for me, being younger than I am. We laugh. We game. We go camping or to parties with friends. We spend time together in companionable silence. We spend time apart. (He golfs, and I send him on his way with a kiss. I write, and he lets me do it without interruption). When I give something to him, I don’t do it to be everything to him. I do it for the joy of seeing his happy face.

You can’t be everything to someone.

Someone can’t be everything to you.

But if you can find enough with a little to spare, I’d say you’re ahead of the game.

I am not saying that you can’t learn these lessons in Oregon or Maryland or Virginia. You certainly can if you pay attention.

But I learned them in Iowa. Home of the Hawkeyes, fried pork tenderloins as big as your head, corn and the smell of manure and soybean processing making you hold your breath daily in the summertime.

I would not have wanted to be born anywhere else.

Right off Highway 61 North between Dubuque and Maquoketa