Adventures Through Middle America

The Midwest has been idealized for as long as I can remember. I half expected to see cowboys riding through corn fields, fending off enemies long forgotten by the civilized world. No cowboys, only the peculiar kind of people into which cowboys have evolved. The more I travel across the country, regardless my destination or the states I pass through, I see it takes a certain type of hardy heart. A heart noble and dignified like our Hollywood heroes, but humble like the collective world today cannot be. Eccentric, lively enough to live off of the small things that come their way, immune to what outsiders claim they are missing. Each town I’ve passed through shares certain characteristics- busted up farms but well-loved fields, shattered windows and peeking faces, horses rolling in the grass and nothing but swirling dust to mark the passage of cars. I’ve driven through herds of modest houses surrounding exceptionally elaborate churches, flocking to the center of the small but beating heart each town becomes. Let’s not forget the curious personality of wind turbines, waving lazily hello and goodbye. Iowa sunsets, sinking below the horizon of a sea of corn fields. And constant painterly frames, dots of humanity blended with the unending, show off sky.

The names of places were some of my favorite parts. Any American-ish word could be found- there were towns of Freedom, Redemption…I’m sure if I kept driving I would’ve found Salvation. I loved Mt. Horeb. This particular pocket of America held trolls. Everywhere. Huge wooden troll sculptures, troll houses, troll businesses, troll dedicated streets. As a lover of strawberries, I also enjoyed Strawberry Point, Iowa. The town’s claim-to-fame strawberry sculpture did resemble more of a moldy strawberry what with years of rust, but that is the key to any small town’s charm. They are old and rough around the edges, but not forgotten. I approached them looking for this kind of beauty.

Equally fascinating were the people on the road. Regardless of whether or not I had to use the restroom, I said I did and embarked into curious rest stops and gas stations. As a writer, I seek out the world. I don’t have time to wait for it to seek out me. I was given a piece of advice that has shaped my outlook. I was told to do everything that came my way. Even if I’ve done it a million times, like going to the grocery store. Because who knows what could happen? At the end of my life, I’ll be able to say that everything that should have happened happened. So I watched as a homeless woman with tattered shorts and split end hair flirted with an employee at a Subway. I saw a Chinese man making awkward small talk with a man carrying an easily visible gun in his pocket. I almost laughed as a young boy ran giggling through a convenience store, screaming “Ahoy!!!” to anyone who would listen. I had never heard of a bidet toilet, and listened in shock as a woman with three children tried to teach them. One of them shouted delightedly “It’s like a shower!” Imagine my shock before I learned that she was in fact not dipping her head in the toilet!

What are us city people missing? I have to wonder, as I prepare to move to another city. It will be interesting to see if I grow louder as my friends in the Midwest grow gentler. Humanity does live in distinct different ways—they may overlap, but each clearly marks who we are in a different way. Cities, mountains, oceans, wide plains, small towns. As I prepare to embrace the city side of me, I must remember the part of me affected by my travels through these lands. May the cowboy live on.