. . . because much of the content relates both to Washington, D.C., and "outside the beltway" -- the heartland, specifically Iowa -- and because after going from Iowa to Washington via Texas and California I subsequently returned, From DC 2 Iowa.
Olivia White, an adventurous 21-year-old woman from Tasmania who came to visit America, also took a look at Iowa. But she liked what and who she saw, decided to stay, and wrote about it recently in the local press this way:
I have now adventured and worked in more than 15 states . . .. I have seen the sites of Manhattan, D.C., L.A. and San Francisco. My travels have taken me to the Big Sur Mountains of California . . .. [T]he Kenai Peninsula of Alaska . . .. I volunteered for a ministry in the Bible Belt of America . . .. I have explored Amish country and enjoyed dreamlike summer buggy rides with the Amish people. I worked on a horse ranch . . . on the Meramec River in Missouri . . .. Finally, I found Iowa — what I would describe as the epitome of “fair dinkum” (Australian slang for “real” and “genuine”). . . . The way in which I found my way to Iowa truly encapsulates my feelings toward Iowa and its wonderful people. . . . I came across a couple outside their cabin [at the Missouri horse ranch]. . .. We chatted for half an hour or so comparing and contrasting Tasmania and Iowa and just enjoying some friendly banter. When the couple departed the next day, a note was left behind with information and an invitation for me to come visit them in Iowa. . . . Upon arriving in Cedar Rapids, I only expected to visit for several weeks. I did not want to take advantage of such a hospitable invitation. However, my new family encouraged me to stay longer and I realized that I was by no means ready to depart my new home.
Olivia White, who is among other things an accomplished swimmer, is now a Cedar Rapids Kennedy High School's swimming coach.
Of course, I am pleased that Ms. White, having taken a pretty good look at what America has to offer, chose Iowa for her home.
But I wouldn't continue to write on the subject if she was just one more of the three million souls who have also looked at Iowa, liked what they saw, and chosen to live (or continue to live, or to return) here.
No number of accomplished and enthusiastic Iowans will ever change the minds of those who are blind to what the three million can see so clearly.
How to explain this difference in perception?
In my response to Stephen Bloom's mean-spirited screed attacking Iowa I noted, "[M]ost everything we say, or write is little more than an indication of what's going on inside that electro-chemical sensory processing soup we call our brain. . . . When we say the view of [a] . . . mountain range, river valley, ocean [or] desert [is] 'beautiful,' that 'beauty' is of our own making. It lies inside of us, not in the molecules that make up the physical stuff we're looking at." Nicholas Johnson, "Taking the Bloom From My Rose; Another Perspective on Stephen Bloom's Iowa," December 16, 2011.
That's why I'm bringing Olivia White to my attention, and yours. It's not that she just appreciates Iowa and Iowans. It is that this young lady has learned at her age that there is something to appreciate everywhere -- Manhattan, D.C., L.A. and San Francisco, Big Sur, the Kenai Peninsula, the Bible Belt, Amish country, and Missouri horse ranches.
Whatever it is that is going on in her own personal brew, that "electro-chemical sensory processing soup" that is her brain, is obviously a delightful place to be. That's why she can see what Stephen Bloom cannot. That's why everyplace is, for her, a delightful place to be, and why, of all those places, she's chosen our place to live.
And though I've never met her, I rather imagine it's also why the places she chooses to be become, as well, delightful places for those who share those places with her.
Now listen to what Louis Armstrong sees when he looks at the world:
I see trees of green, red roses too I see them bloom, for me and you And I think to myself What a wonderful world
I see skies of blue, and clouds of white The bright blessed day, dark sacred night And I think to myself What a wonderful world
The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky Are also on the faces, of people going by I see friends shaking hands, sayin', "How do you do?" They're really sayin', "I love you"
I hear babies cryin', I watch them grow They'll learn much more, than I'll ever know And I think to myself What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself What a wonderful world Oh yeah
And, finally, the full text of Ms. White's article:
As a young girl growing up on the island of Tasmania, just off the coast of South East Australia, I would often dream of the day that I could take flight on my own and travel across the United States of America.
Doing what, I wasn’t entirely sure, but that was the whole point. I would take time to broaden my horizons, to excite my senses and to experience life as I didn’t yet know it.
Now, as I sit here in Cedar Rapids writing an article for the local newspaper, I realize I am indeed living my dream.
I grew up in a family of six children with an American father and an Australian mother. It was this cross-cultural influence that first sparked my desire to know my father’s country as well as my mother’s.
At 21 years old, I have now adventured and worked in more than 15 states across America. I guess one could say I have come to quite enjoy the itinerant lifestyle. I have seen the sites of Manhattan, D.C., L.A. and San Francisco.
My travels have taken me to the Big Sur Mountains of California where I worked on a goat farm, hand-milking goats and making fresh cheeses. On the farm, I lived without electricity in a Mongolian tent and bathed on a cliff face overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It was a rugged yet spectacular lifestyle.
I spent a summer on the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska deep sea fishing, bear spotting and exploring the wild Alaskan coast. I volunteered for a ministry in the Bible Belt of America where I became accustomed to chiggers, fried chicken and okra, and of course that wonderful southern drawl.
I have explored Amish country and enjoyed dreamlike summer buggy rides with the Amish people. I worked on a horse ranch located on the Meramec River in Missouri, where I rode horses and cleaned stables, foraged for morel mushrooms and escaped tornadoes.
Finally, I found Iowa — what I would describe as the epitome of “fair dinkum” (Australian slang for “real” and “genuine”).
I can’t say how many times I have been asked, “But why did you choose to come to Cedar Rapids, Iowa!?” I get the feeling the locals perceive me as a little crazy for willingly choosing such a location, not to mention enjoying it so much. I just smile and patiently deliver my (very familiar) spiel, as if it is the first time anyone has ever asked.
The way in which I found my way to Iowa truly encapsulates my feelings toward Iowa and its wonderful people.
While I was in Missouri working on the horse ranch in May of 2011, I happened to meet a couple who were vacationing on the ranch for several days. Late one afternoon, after finishing work for the day, I decided to try my luck foraging in the woods for the much-prized morel mushrooms. While walking down the gravel lane I came across a couple outside their cabin attempting to wrap up some grapevines. We chatted for half an hour or so comparing and contrasting Tasmania and Iowa and just enjoying some friendly banter.
When the couple departed the next day, a note was left behind with information and an invitation for me to come visit them in Iowa. Our chance meeting on the horse ranch was not only the beginning of my sojourn in Iowa, but the first of many connections that have all seamlessly fallen into place since walking down that gravel lane.
Having always been drawn to the folklore of the prairie and the old Midwest, I was excited by the offer to go to Iowa. My dad’s stories of his youth and spending his early years in Nebraska had always stirred my curiosity. Upon arriving in Cedar Rapids, I only expected to visit for several weeks. I did not want to take advantage of such a hospitable invitation. However, my new family encouraged me to stay longer and I realized that I was by no means ready to depart my new home.
I determined that if my visit was going to turn into something more permanent, I had better make myself useful and start working. I decided to rely on what I know best, swimming.
Swimming has always played a significant role in my life. My father is a swimming coach and my mother a swimming instructor. They built a 25-meter indoor swimming pool at our home in Tasmania, where they have owned and operated their own aquatic business for 15 years.
Naturally, all six of the children became competitive swimmers, succeeding at a state level as well as competing in national competitions. My own competitive swimming background and my parents’ expertise prepared me well and by age 14 I began teaching classes solo for my parent’s successful business. By age 18 I was a fully qualified swimming instructor teaching children and adults of all ages, as well as coaching competitive swimmers.
When I arrived in Cedar Rapids in the spring of 2011 the timing was perfect to become involved with a local swim team. Due to a friend’s recommendation, I inquired about a coaching job at the nearby Elmcrest Country Club. I met with the pool supervisor, dropped off my resume, and was offered a job coaching with their swim team; another seamless connection falling into place.
Elmcrest staff and club members were both friendly and welcoming and the flexibility of my role allowed me to work with the kids according to their needs, developing their strokes and focusing on some of the more technical aspects of swimming.
I think for the kids, it was a bit of a novelty to have an “Aussie swim coach”. There were a lot of questions: “Do I keep kangaroos as pets?” “Why do I talk funny?” and “Do we drive cars in Australia?” Our conversations would always bring about some good laughs and the kids would leave knowing something new about the “land down under.”
As a result of my involvement with the swim team at Elmcrest, I was offered an assistant coaching position at Kennedy High School, the third seamless happenstance. I was honored to coach alongside John Ross, Rick Forrester, Holly Broadwater and Leslie Nelson. I sought my Iowa coaching certification at Kirkwood Community College, which allowed me to coach for schools in Iowa. For me, this was yet another excellent opportunity not only to contribute and be a part of local swim team, but also a chance to gain more experience coaching at a competitive level alongside veteran coaches such as Ross and Forrester.
Both swimmers and coaches worked hard throughout the season and reaped the benefits. Kennedy placed first at the sophomore Mississippi Valley Conference meet while also winning our division at the varsity level.
Kennedy hosted a very exciting regional meet with our team missing first place by just one point. We took a tenacious team of 10 swimmers to the state meet in Marshalltown and finished a very respectable 12th place, up from 16th place in 2010. Our freshman class was extremely strong throughout the season contributing to our success while holding promise of a very bright future for Kennedy swimming.
Assuming I survive the harsh winter here in Iowa — Tasmania’s lowest temperature dives to a shivering 32 degrees — I plan to return to Elmcrest and Kennedy for another swimming season in 2012. I am both excited and motivated to develop as a coach and see “our” local swimmers continue to improve.
I will always remember and cherish my time here in Cedar Rapids. The friendships I have made will last a lifetime and I will never forget the incredible feeling of being a stranger who found a home in a foreign place.
I'd like to get the Bloom that is Stephen off of the rose that is Iowa.
Stephen G. Bloom is Professor and Bessie Dutton Murray Professional Scholar at the University of Iowa. This year, he is the Howard R. Marsh Visiting Professor of Journalism at the University of Michigan. He is the author of Postville: A Clash of Cultures in Heartland America and The Oxford Project (with Peter Feldstein).
That's what he is. He is not, however, what we Iowans call, "Iowa nice."
[Photo credit: Jason Reed/Reuters/The Atlantic.] If one of the jobs of a professor is to promote inquiry and discussion -- the more heated the better -- Stephen Bloom has been hard at work.
Tasked with explaining why Iowa is, or is not, an appropriate state with which to begin the nation's presidential selection process, he chose instead an anti-Iowa screed that never answers the question, but must leave most readers scratching their heads as to what purpose he did have in mind.
It reminds me of the recently popular song with the line, "Someday, I'll be, living in a big old city, and all you're ever going to be is mean." Taylor Swift, "Mean." [Picture of portion of downtown Des Moines, Iowa.]
Stephen G. Bloom,"Observations From 20 Years of Iowa Life; Thoughts from a university professor on the Iowa hamlets that will shape the contours of the GOP contest,"The Atlantic, December 9, 2011 ("Whether a schizophrenic, economically-depressed, and some say, culturally-challenged state like Iowa should host the first grassroots referendum to determine who will be the next president isn't at issue. It's been this way since 1972, and there are no signs that it's going to change. In a perfect world, no way would Iowa ever be considered representative of America, or even a small part of it. Iowa's not representative of much. There are few minorities, no sizable cities, and the state's about to lose one of its five seats in the U.S. House because its population is shifting; any growth is negligible. Still, thanks to a host of nonsensical political precedents, whoever wins the Iowa Caucuses in January will very likely have a 50 percent chance of being elected president 11 months later. Go figure.").
It's a mixed bag. Bloom can be a very good writer, some of which pops up in this piece. Some is humorous -- sometimes right on, sometimes way off, sometimes just mean. Most Iowan's are aware of the genuine problems Iowa, and most other states, confront. The Iowa Policy Project, the state's investigative reporters, and numerous policy-oriented nonprofits are on top of most of them. Bloom doesn't offer a lot of data, but of what there is some is accurate, some is not. Mostly it's opinion -- as, indeed, most everything we say, or write is little more than an indication of what's going on inside that electro-chemical sensory processing soup we call our brain. What Bloom's article is not, by my standards, is "journalism" -- which is kind of odd, coming from a journalism professor. I would certainly hope he is not holding it up to his students as an example.
Most disturbing, from a general semantics perspective, is his apparent lack of awareness of the dramatic difference between the non-verbal space-time events of which we are a part and the ways in which our language permits grossly distorted "descriptions" of those events, often in the form of unsubstantiated generalizations.
When we say the view of clustered sky scrapers in an urban environment, mountain range, river valley, ocean, desert -- or, in my case, amateur radio antenna towers -- are "beautiful," that "beauty" is of our own making. It lies inside of us, not in the molecules that make up the physical stuff we're looking at.
There is no "Iowan." There are three million Iowans who are extraordinarily varied in their educations, professions, lifestyle choices, socio-economic status, religious beliefs, and so forth. Moreover, they are each changing over time. For example, to leave the impression that all Iowans are farmers (a) inaccurately represents the state's demographics, when less than 5% can be so classified, (b) conflates "agriculture" in 1930 with "agriculture" in 2011 (as different as newspapers and magazines in 1930 and 2011), and (c) denigrates the intellectual and professional skills required to run a successful agricultural operation during any year.
University of Iowa President Sally Mason has written a response that helps to put Bloom's assertions into perspective. Hopefully, The Atlantic will exercise the good judgment to run it. Sally Mason, "Bloom's caricature misrepresents Iowa and Iowans," Iowa City Press-Citizen, December 16, 2011, p. A9 ("Iowans are pragmatic and balanced, and they live within their means. This lifestyle, while not glitzy, is humble and true and can weather the most difficult of times. One’s reputation and word are understood to be his or her most valued attributes. As a result, people cultivate a sense of fairness, cooperation and humility. . . . You also don’t have to look far to immerse yourself in the fine arts. No fewer than seven Iowa communities claim symphony orchestras . . .. When you can boast one of five [UNESCO-designated] Cities of Literature worldwide — and the only one in the United States — you’re in a class all alone.")
There's always the risk that boosters, as well as bashers, may error with their generalizations. Here's one involving myself from a blog in early September of this year:
Walking along downtown Iowa City's Washington Street, following a reception at a restaurant that can match many of those on the coasts, we came upon an amazing piano player, 22-year-old Chase Garrett. He was sitting at a piano kindly placed on the sidewalk by those who thought it would be a nice addition to this community of literature (one of three so designated by the United Nations), theater, music, and creative arts generally.
Here is a direct link to the YouTube location of my video, and a link to Chase's Web site: http://chasegarrett.com//.
It turns out I'm far from the first person to discover this guy and upload his music to YouTube. Put "Chase Garrett" (in quotes) into YouTube search, and you'll see over 100 more.
From there we wandered down the hill to the Iowa Memorial Union (about three blocks). (Another nice thing about Iowa City is that an easy walk can get you to many of the places you want to go. If you're in a hurry you can bike. With time to spare, you can even drive.)
What we found in the main lounge of the IMU was a standing room only crowd, packed to the walls, waiting to hear a free lecture by Robert Reich, http://robertreich.org, once Secretary of Labor and now University of California, Berkeley, professor of public policy.
So what was wrong with what I wrote? A reader's comment added to the blog put it well: "I believe the more proper title question for your article is 'Why Iowa City?' Unless of course you truly believe that your article applies to other places in Iowa. I've lived in Taipei, Singapore, Tehran, Los Angeles, Knoxville, Cleveland, Iowa City, Chicago, and Overland Park, and Iowa City ranks first among them."
I feel the way she does about Iowa City's rank, but she's right about my leap in assigning the benefits of living in a college town like Iowa City with the resources available throughout the state of Iowa. Generalizations and exaggerations can and do run both ways.
Frankly, I don't think it obvious that the state to hold a presidential caucus or primary as first-in-the-nation has to be the "most typical," or "average." But if that's what you want, if that is your standard, Bloom to the contrary notwithstanding, Iowa is it. Michael Lewis-Beck, "Iowa is a Natural for its 'First in the Nation' Role,"Iowa City Press-Citizen, December 16, 2011, p. 9A ("50 states were rated on 51 important characteristics taken from U.S. Census data. Iowa turns out to be a highly representative state. The characteristics cover a broad range of state life, which we organized under three general factors: Economics . . .. Social Problems . . .. Diversity . . .. First, Iowa falls close to the middle score for the overwhelming majority of the 51 separate measures. Only 12 are not near the middle, and about half of those are positive, representing desirable social conditions. For example, Iowa is below average in poor mental health days, wine consumption and housing prices; well above average in the high school graduation rate and voting turnout.")
Iowa's voting record is also about as representative of the nation as it gets, according to these figures from Gary Sanders:
In November 1992, Iowa voted: Bill Clinton, 43.3 percent; George H.W. Bush, 37.3 percent; Ross Perot, 18.7 percent. In November 1992, the country voted: Clinton, 43.0 percent; Bush, 37.4 percent; Perot, 18.9 percent.
In November 1996, Iowa voted: Clinton, 50.3 percent; Bob Dole, 39.9 percent; Perot, 8.5 percent. In November 1996, the country voted: Clinton, 49.2 percent; Dole, 40.7 percent; Perot, 8.4 percent.
In November 2000, Iowa voted: Al Gore, 48.5 percent; George W. Bush, 48.2 percent. In November 2000,the country voted: Gore, 48.4 percent; Bush, 47.9 percent.
In November 2004, Iowa voted: Bush, 49.9 percent; John Kerry, 49.2 percent. In November 2004, the country voted: Bush 50.6 percent; Kerry 48.1 percent.
In November 2008, Iowa voted: Obama, 53.9 percent; McCain 44.4 percent. In November 2008, the country voted: Obama, 52.9 percent; McCain, 45.6 percent.
As I say, "average" (however it might be measured) need not be the only Polestar in our quest to find the perfect first-in-the-nation" state, but given Lewis-Beck's research, and Gary Sanders' historic voting data, it's really bizarre, misleading, and potentially dangerous for Bloom to assert, as he does, "In a perfect world, no way would Iowa ever be considered representative of America, or even a small part of it. Iowa's not representative of much. There are few minorities, no sizable cities, and . . . any growth is negligible."
I'm not about to assert that Bloom holds racial or other politically-incorrect prejudices. There's no basis for believing he does. However, much of the language structure he uses is analogous to the language of prejudice.
It is simply not a factually or descriptively accurate use of language to characterize "all" of any classification to be this or that. It's just that some such characterizations are more socially acceptable than others. America has a long history of humor, and epithets thrown at the latest immigrants -- Irish, Scandinavian, German, Italian, Polish, Chinese or Japanese. Ditto for religious groups -- Catholics, Jews, and today's Muslims.
Comments about Californians, New Yorkers -- or "Iowa farmers" -- are somehow more acceptable. One can make fun of any group -- and many do: "Ivory tower" academics, "dumb jocks," "greedy bankers," "lying politicians," "dumb blonds."
But all such characterizations are equally inaccurate. There are farmers in California and New York as well as Iowa. And there are corporate CEOs and rocket scientists in Iowa as well as in California. No state is "all" anything; and no identifiable group in any of those states has members that are significantly identical with regard to most characteristics.
I have been in every U.S. state and Canadian province, and probably worked or visited in some 40 countries. I have spent considerable time, or lived, in Los Angeles, Houston, New York, Washington, D.C., and London -- among other cities. Although I was born and raised in Iowa, I am now very much an Iowan by choice. (Returning home from D.C. has provided this blog's name: "FromDC2Iowa.") In fact, I have since 1989 literally been living in the very same family home I lived in from 1941-1952.
I mention that because I don't think it's that unusual. In my experience, bi-coastal sophisticates without a midwest background risk a greater degree of parochialism than midwesterners. Both midwesterners and New Yorkers, of comparable socio-economic circumstance, spend time in, and have some understanding of, both coasts and Europe. What many midwesterners also have, and some New Yorkers may lack, is an appreciation of America's "fly over country."
And speaking of "fly over country": at a dinner party in Kuala Lumpur one evening, a New Yorker was telling our Malaysian hosts that there was virtually nothing of worth between our east and west coasts. I reminded her that although our hosts had never visited America, let alone Iowa City, when they found out I was from Iowa City their eyes brightened and their first response was to ask about the University's International Writers Program. (They had not inquired about her Manhattan neighborhood.) I went on to describe the other centers of manufacturing and business, arts and academia, culture and charms of the mid and far western United States.
I look for each region's strengths, not what it doesn't have. When I go to New York I don't complain about the lack of Grant Wood vistas of rolling fields and hills. I don't object to the lack of ocean-front beaches in the middle of desert beauty, nor the lack of mountains on the Florida Keys.
When I finished my seven-year term as an FCC commissioner, the question was what to do next. I knew I wanted to get out of Washington to refresh my sense of the America "outside the beltway." But how to do it?
When asked, we are tempted to advise others to do what we have done. Bill Moyers suggested I should just take a long ride around the country, preferably in a pickup truck with a dog in the back. It was an appealing idea. But on reflection I realized most of the people I'd meet would be the truck drivers and waitresses in restaurants along the road. Besides, I'd made that trip with my wife and daughter during the summer of 1958. I was in the last law school class able to take the bar exam before graduation, and my first clerkship didn't begin until August. So we set off with $19 and a Texaco credit card to visit all the national parks west of the Mississippi.
About that time I got a call from some Democratic Party leaders in Iowa's old Third Congressional District. Long held by the seemingly unbeatable Republican H.R. Gross, the Party could not find anyone willing to run against him. That I would consider it turned me into something of a local hero. That is, until after my announcement Congressman Gross stunned everyone with the announcement that he was not going to run -- following which I was immediately considered a carpetbagger. There are lots of stories about that race to leave for another day.
The point of mentioning it in the context of Bloom's take on Iowa, is the reason why I ultimately decided to do it. The Third District was an almost perfect square of perfectly square counties located in the center of Iowa's boundary with Minnesota. It's attraction to me was that it proved to be a microcosm of America. I could rediscover America by traveling around in relatively small circles in one state, rather than covering the entire continent.
The District had a Latino population around Mason City, an African-American population in Waterloo, and one of the country's few Native American "settlements" (owned by the tribe) rather than reservations. (Its Meskwaki Casino is now doing very well, thank you.) Sure, the District had farms; although many of the husbands and wives who farmed also worked, or even lived, in nearby cities. But it also had young professionals -- lawyers, doctors, architects, and accountants. It had one of the greatest densities of small colleges of any area in the United States. It had the strong Local 828 UAW union, whose members worked at the world's largest tractor factory, and a major meat packing plant.
It was, and the memories always will be, much more representative of what Iowa is, and who Iowans are, than Stephen Bloom's mythical Iowa.
Olivia White, an adventurous 21-year-old woman from Tasmania who came to visit America, also took a look at Iowa. But she liked what and who she saw, decided to stay, and wrote about it recently in the local press this way:
