An Iowa Spook

There is nothing more spooky to me at this time of year then coming across a farmer harvesting his fields after dark. You are dirving across a country road and you see this beaming light surrounded by fog and dust. Like an alien about to take flight or a raging bull wearing a floodlamp, it seems to falter amid a half-shorn field. I've witnessed the night farmers every fall as they scurry about trying to bring in their bounty before it freezes and yet, every time I happen across the harvester in the field at night, it gives me pause. At first, it truly is the spook in the field. Then, you realize that this is farm labor at its truest, toiling away when conditions are right, weather and light aside. It is silent to those driving by in their sealed, cozy vehicles. It creates chaos for those critters that had previously called the field their home. And, when you go by the next day, you see that the field is now naked, stripped of the goodness it created over all those months of the growing season. The beast that raged in the darkness has moved on and left behind an emptiness waiting for the snow and an openness that extends across the horizon that once swayed with the corn in the wind. The night harvester is industrious, frantic, silent and quick. And he only exists for a few short weeks before winter sets in.

Iowa's Personality

Palo, Ia is not too far from Cedar Rapids. It's a town of about 8-or 9,000 people, which would put it in the rankings of a "typical" small Iowa town. It is one of the many towns along the Cedar River that is faced with rebuilding after this year's floods. Several people in the town, including city officials, have been quoted as saying they are "stubborn" in that they are stoically pursuing their rebuilding efforts on their own, without a lot of haggling over federal or state funds or even over political rebuilding queries. I'm not so sure that "stubborn" is a characteristic solely owned by Palo. And, while I wouldn't characterize Iowans as "stubborn", I'd certainly find a more politically-correct adjective to use in describing how people from Iowa seem to just dig in and get things done the way they know how while ignoring outside interference. My dad would call it stick-to-itiveness. And, it's a characteristic I wanted to learn and experience when I thought about moving to Iowa. Perhaps it's a farmer's thing. You're living out there on your farm house in the middle of 400 acres (or 4!) and you're out plowing at the back of the acreage and the tractor breaks or stalls or you run over your foot, whatever. There isn't any help around. You assess the situation and do what you have to do to make it right. Cut off the foot, rebuild the engine, nestle down for the night, whatever. And, that's something it seems that Iowans just do. "Git 'er done", to steal a phrase. Calmly, coolly and with out much fuss, time and time, again I just see folks getting things done. Parents who take in their wayward children and adjust their lives to get them on the right path, children who look after aging grandparents or parents and count their blessings for the days they have, or people who've lost everything they have picking up the one dry board to nail it down as the cornerstone for their new house, right on top of the old. Iowans don't use therapy or ask the government to bail them out. They roll up their sleeves. Their families stop by and quietly pick up a spare hammer and then maybe a neighbor will wander over and silently leave dinner behind. It's in the state culture and it's something I hope I can learn as a transplant here.