Small towns

I'm quite fond of an American-English writer by the name of Bill Bryson. Hilarious guy, I've read a bunch of his stuff. Anyways, I'm reading another one of his books, this one called "The Lost Continent." Basically, Bill goes on a road trip throughout small town America in his mom's old Chevelle, and writes about his thoughts and experiences. He's actually at the time of the trip living in England, so he has a unique insider/outsider point of view on everything. I'm liking it thus far, check it if you have the time.

Anyways, Bill likes to get pissed off about things. A few of his favourite topics are ugly architecture, the effects of the global economy on traditional economies, and stupid people. He just goes off (in all his books, mind you) on city planners who allow historic areas to be deadened with ugly buildings, with no regard to the history of the area. He also is a huge critic of how the increasingly global economy manifests itself in ways derogatory toward the "tradition" that he thinks is more important. In some ways, he's a very conservative guy. Change probably is not on his high list, I'm sure he'd much prefer to live in that TV version of 1950's America, or some rural English village untouched by man. Funny enough, he's the President of the Campaign to Protect Rural England. He's a very funny, very perceptive guy though.

Why do I mention this? Well, I decided, against all financial better judgment to drive 4 hours to Independence, IA the other day for a 20 hour reunion with 3 of my best friends from college. We spent the night at my friend's place in Independence (he's student teaching there), doing all the things we used to do. Or as it turns out, what we still do. That being listening to music whilst drinking and talking. And I must say, it was absolutely glorious. I'm all for productive argument and all, but from time to time, it is very nice to get together with three gentlemen whose worldview I generally share, who value many of the things I value, who share my sense of humour, etc. Especially since, in contrast to the last 4 years (save that one in a foreign country, which is a different story), we've basically lived with each other and enjoyed (and occasionally dis-enjoyed) our common company almost everyday. To be able to relax and drink Sierra Nevada while listening to Rage Against the Machine and Duke Ellington, discussing our lives with the very best of friends is surely one of life's greatest pleasures.

Of course, it wasn't all enlightened philophosizing, NPR, and french pressed coffee. We are not so pretentious as to shield ourselves from some of the world's baser entertainments. We had a few slightly awkward encounters with townsfolk in the local bars, and one of us very nearly got attacked by a guy named Luis outside a gas station at 2 in the morning. We were buying burritos on credit.

In a related public service announcement, never try something called Budweiser Clamato, no matter how intrigued you are. You'll thank me for it.

But back to my friend Bill, I couldn't help but note how different Independence was from Decorah. We were lucky, we were insulated at Luther by a small Iowan town which is light years away from the norm. We benefited from a vibrant downtown and a mostly successful effort to keep the downtown area (nearest to campus) locally owned and free of chain merchants. The college town atmosphere made it diverse in thought and opinion, with tons of cultural activities. Mostly I think, a Luther student can't have anything but good experiences in Decorah. It has a variety which is just very unusual in these days.

Independence seemed to me to be the epitome of the lifeless small towns that Bill motored through in his Chevelle. I mean, it's not absolutely desperate. It has an excellent musical heritage, and is obviously quite proud of the high school. But the main street was lifeless, cheerless, and pointedly, people-less. The shops were run down and derelict looking, competition driven out by the Wal-Mart supercenter on the outskirts near the freeway. Instead of pedestrian friendly Decorah, we were given strange looks for walking downtown by truck after car of confused locals. In all honesty, they were probably a bit freaked out by the four young guys in decidedly un-local clothing striding in a line down main street. We definitely did not fit the mold of the bulk of the people we saw.

Anyways, I just couldn't get over juxtaposing Independence with Decorah, seeing exactly what Bill had been describing in his books. There was a window ad in one storefront for some church, that had a crucifix draped in American flags. Apparently Jesus was American, or some such thing. Benjamin talked about the meth problems in the community, problems that seem so far away from a lot of us. It was very interesting.

On a sidenote, coming back through Charles City today, I passed a wind farm in the midst of the fields. Now, I honestly do think Iowa is a quite beautiful state. Assuredly because of college, Iowa is a very homey, very comfortable place for me. And I read this story on CNN by this farmer in Pennsylvania who hates the wind turbines on his land, because he says they destroy the natural beauty. And I must say, I disagree. I think wind turbines have a certain majestic quality to them. They're so large, so silent in their neverending rotations, so stately amongst the corn and soybeans. They represent a brighter future for our country, I think they represent the preservation of the land in which they reside. And especially large groups of them, it's pretty intense.