Drift Plain Stories

Proud to be an Iowan

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 16:57:00 -0800

Note: I found this again, a post from 2009.

Did you know that all of Marion County lies on a geological feature called the Southern Iowa Drift Plain? It was shaped fundamentally by glacial deposits left over 500,000 years ago. Our hilltops are what remains of those deposits, and our valleys are the product of erosion. Some of that erosion comes from the melting waters of the subsequent glacial advance of the Wisconsin Ice Sheet, which came as far south as Des Moines about 14,000 years ago. In your imagination, take our highest hills, add a few feet of windblown sediment on top, and then fill in all of our valleys with earth. The flat plain that results is what the geological landscape of Marion County looked like several hundred thousand years ago, long before people arrived.

Friday I went to the 2009 Iowa Studies Conference at DMACC in Ankeny. Carolyn Formanek, Tom Schmeh (co-chairs of the Knoxville Historic Preservation Commission) and I joined over three hundred Iowans who had gathered to learn about and share their knowledge of Iowa (Tom was also a presenter. With Larry Ball, Jr. he presented a history of the Des Moines Speedway 1915-1916). The lesson I learned about the geological features of Marion County came from a presentation made by Ankeny High Social Studies teacher Taylor Anderson. A dynamic speaker, he presented aspects of his high school course called "Why Iowa?" Topics his class address include Iowa geography, Native Americans, explorers, settlers, the growth of cities, agriculture, industry, recreation, tourism, and the contributions Iowa and Iowans have made to the world.

Anderson brought sample materials to demonstrate student work, and Marion residents will be pleased to learn that Knoxville and Pella are seen as important Iowa places by Ankeny students, with mentions of the Knoxville Raceway, Elk Rock State Park, Slideways Karting Center, the Royal Amsterdam Hotel, Tulip Time, the Scholte House, Wild Rose Pastures and the Pella Opera House.

Taylor Anderson is proud to be an Iowan, believes that we as Iowans have lots to be proud of, and that we need to share this with the children of Iowa so they see home as a good place to stay and make contributions to when they become adults.

There were dozens of papers presented at the conference, including topics on Iowa military history, ideas for educators, historical archives (including radio), President Herbert Hoover, the homicides at Villisca in 1912, Iowa's Native Americans, immigration, the Little Brown Church in the Vale, how to learn from cemeteries, the women's suffrage movement, significant poets, Frank Gotch--the great Iowa wrestler, Chiefs Keokuk and Black Hawk, the underground railroad, among many others.

One of the highlights of the conference was the keynote speech by a dear friend of mine, Zachary Michael Jack, a fourth generation Iowan whose family owns a century farm in eastern Iowa. Zachary loves Iowa, and has compiled a new book of historical and literary readings titled Iowa: The Definitive Collection, Classic and Contemporary Readings by Iowans about Iowa. It's a thick book, a heavy book, with over 500 pages that celebrate our past and who we are today. World famous sons and daughters of Iowa join those long forgotten to tell our story. I've only barely opened the book, but have been pulled in--not into a dull history book--but into a lively tale that should be told and told again.

As I write this, a fresh pot of coffee is brewing. It's early Sunday morning, and the my family is beginning to stir. It's a comfortable time, as the sun rises very slowly into a day that will pass quickly. In a moment, I will shut off the computer and settle into my chair, and open Zach's thick new book on my lap, settle in, take a sip of coffee, and read. To learn more about us.

That moment is now.

Love and Other Delusions: A Book Review

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 16:25:00 -0800

Love and Other Delusions, by Larry Baker of Iowa City will be released April 15 by Ice Tea Press, a fiction imprint of Ice Cube Press, based in North Liberty, Iowa. The Press has published many wonderful books about Iowa. Their books can be purchased at your local independent bookstore, and on-line at their website http://www.icecubepress.com/.

Here is my review of the book.

Some art just points us at the direction it wants to take us and presumes that we we’ll get there. Other art takes us gently by the hand to lead us towards its goal. Larry Baker’s art in “Love and Other Delusions” does a bit of both, but most of the time it engages us more fully, in an deeply intellectual wrestling match with matters of the heart, if not the soul. And at its best, and for I what I suspect will be the case for many readers, the heart involved is our own.

The asymmetries in “Love and Other Delusions” are profound, and help establish the fundamental drama of the piece. Alice is a privileged thirty year old teacher who seduces one of her students, an intelligent, handsome, engaging, eighteen year old. Danny is from a hardscrabble background, who steals from the theatre he works in to support his ill father, as well as a younger brother and sister. Their mother abandoned them long ago. And in walks Alice, beautiful, well off, confident, but older. Not quite their mother’s age, but close enough, with the lovers age gap proportionately decreasing over the next few decades and the affair less startling as the story unfolds.

Alice ultimately loses her job because of the relationship, despite the fact her long suffering husband Peter is the Dean of the department of the school where she works. Or maybe because of it. Who knows? Fortunately for Alice, she doesn’t really need the work, since Peter loves her and will support her, and while he must be heartbroken about her affair not only with Danny, but with apparently many other men, he never finds it in himself to leave her. In fact, for over twenty years, he lovingly hand rolls her cigarettes, a singular gift. Not exactly like handing the keys to your car to your drunk wife and sending her on a beer run, but with its own implications for the story. We never really get to know him--is he so in love that he will forgive her anything, or is he the most significant of her enablers? Or maybe he has his own indiscretions? We also learn that Alice and Peter may have a reason as to why both of them behave the way they do, a nearly unspeakable tragedy, which incidentally, deserves not much more than a mention in the story, but still pervades it.

Enablers abound in their lives. Friends, past and future lovers, and those of us who sit idly by and watch our friends self destruct, thinking it none of our business, whether it is or not. Both Alice and Danny are powerful personalities, both flawed, yet more powerful than those around them. Danny’s younger sister has one moment, but perhaps the only one of note before she fades to oblivion. His younger brother wanders in and out of the story, and while we hope he doesn’t get hurt, we don’t really know if he does or in what way.

For one of her class and time, Alice of course has a therapist with her own flaws, which maybe are not so much her own, but perhaps of her profession. She too has an indiscretion on her hands, and interestingly enough, these women share a bit of regret, if not so much guilt. Kathy struggles, for all the right reasons, but fails, as she was likely doomed to. Yet another asymmetry. But who, actually, is Kathy? She too, has an ineffectual husband, which may reflect, actually a broader societal condition. Does anyone actually have an effectual husband anymore given that the state of what constitutes “manhood” is in such transition? While contemporary American society wouldn’t say it actually likes ineffectual men, it recognizes feet of clay when it sees them, and if it doesn’t see them, it will likely do its best to create them for you.

Danny too has his own flaws, his own indiscretions, his own affairs, and but most vulgarly, thievery of a variety of sorts. But what is theft? Does theft relate only to the material of our world? Theft involves breaking an agreement with respect to private property; adultery is breaking an agreement with respect to sexual exclusivity. Maybe in the end Danny rises above both kinds of theft, maybe not. But really, it’s tough to like a thief who steals material things. Ironically, it’s easier to look the other way when the thief steals not money, but promises. But really, would you rather have your wife steal a car, or sleep with your neighbor? The former gets her jail time, and while the latter may be devastating, everyone involved will most likely construct some sort of rationalization that is eventually publicly acceptable. Adulterers rewrite their lives every day, yet a car thief is always a car thief.

But rising above it all is the story. Cast this story in another time and place, in the middle of a war perhaps, or at a pivotal historical moment, Baker’s storytelling would have been easier, if not more profound. Set instead in modern St. Augustine and Atlanta, Georgia, places where theaters, park benches, cell phones and credit cards work as significant props to the plot, his chore is more difficult, and likely more meaningful. Why? Because the drama is created by the characters, not by external forces. As such, it becomes internal to us as well, because of likely shared experiences with the protagonists. Most of us are not identifiable cogs in the engine of history, but all of us hope that we would rise to the challenges if we were, as do the great characters of literature. Contrastingly, we and those around us live lives full of indiscretion, lies and lust, if not adultery. Or thievery. Cause then is the matter of our own hand, not the product of great historical forces beyond us. Which is, of course, more real. And common to us all.

Baker’s gift then is that he creates not only a story of Alice, Danny, Kathy and Peter, but a story of ourselves. Like our players in the play, our lives are sticky--no--doughy. Doughy with thorns. And we recognize the places where the characters find themselves, geographically, emotionally, and if we’re lucky, physically. We also recognize their decisions, and even if we don’t necessarily agree with them, we can empathize. Baker writes well enough that their pain is our pain, their joy ours, and their seductions familiar and even titillating, even if uncomfortable.

Literary name dropping is an easy way out of a description of an author’s work in familiar literary terms, but a convenient crutch when I need one here. Drieser comes to mind at times--especially in “An American Tragedy;” Flaubert when I see resemblances between Alice and Emma Bovary, and not to go overboard, the interactions and settings here remind me of the suburban worlds of Updike and Irving.

There is another element to Baker’s work that I recognize in at least one of his other books--”A Good Man,” and that element ia how he weaves in and out of clarity and opacity. The clarity is in the richness of description, of characterization, and of language. And just when you start to think you know what is going on, boundaries become fuzzy, nearly opaque. Time becomes a character, and characters blend in and out of each other, and its difficult to tell who is who, and when and where we are. And when “Love and other Delusions” is at its very best, we ARE Alice, or maybe another character, because those of us who are old enough to have been around the block a time or two and have taken and or given our share of lumps, share her story. Or his story. Or at least a part of it. Maybe we are her story.

And we may not like it. But we know we aren’t alone.

And with respect to love, is it indeed the delusion Baker asserts in his title? The cynic says of course it is. No question.

The romantic replies, maybe. But what better does the world have to offer? Most of us will take love when we can get it--and its delusions. As did Alice.

Robert Leonard

Author of “Yellow Cab,” University of New Mexico Press, 2006.

Corn and Beans from 20 Thousand Feet

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 18:45:00 -0700

Learning about modern agriculture and its complexities have been one of the best parts of our move back to Iowa. The interconnectedness of weather, corn and bean productivity, and how it all relates to the pork and beef industry, the price of gas, and yes, the weather in Brazil and a tsunami in Japan are fascinating subjects. I've had at least two great teachers--Leslie Miller and John Jensen with the Iowa State Savings Bank in Knoxville.

If you think you know agriculture, you will probably enjoy the following interview. If you don't know anything--I think you will find it fascinating--even wondrous. Here is the interview.

Michele Bachmann Calls

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 17:50:00 -0700

One of the best things about working in radio in Iowa is getting to speak with all of the presidential candidates. Before the 2008 caucus, I interviewed nine candidates, including President Obama and Mike Huckabee. My program is 15-20 minutes long, so they have to spend some time with me.

This time around, the Republicans have been on a tighter leash for some reason, and while I have worked very hard to get to interview Pawlenty (before he dropped out), Bachmann, Cain, Paul, Gingrich and Romney (Perry hasn't been here yet), it hasn't happened. No one wants to commit that much time, or go much beyond the basic "cattle call" media shout out.

That is, until an acquaintance of mine and Facebook friend Eric Woolson started working on the Bachmann campaign. I mentioned how difficult it had been to get interviews to Eric, and the next morning I was able to speak with Congresswoman Bachmann. Thanks Eric!

Here is the interview.

Fall Migration at Lake Red Rock

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Fri, 16 Sep 2011 18:39:00 -0700

If there was a prettier place in Iowa than Lake Red Rock this week, I would love to see it. I went to check out the lake and the annual migration of birds with Marion County Naturalist Marla Mertz. While we spoke about many birds, the thousands of pelicans stole the show. The photo above was taken by Ron Huelse of Knoxville, one of Iowa's finest nature photographers. To hear the full interview with Marla click here.

Marion County First Responders and Dispatcher Think Back to 9/11

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Fri, 9 Sep 2011 14:59:00 -0700

A few days ago, I decided to hear what our first responders thought about when they contemplated 9/11. My interview with over a dozen individuals for KNIA/KRLS can be found here. It's worth listening to.

The Gift

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 16:55:00 -0700

When I first looked into your malachite eyes

so many years ago I forget, they drew

me in and I fell like a pebble down a well

except for the splash, cause I just kept

falling and have never hit bottom.

And I knew that there was something

ancient and wise in you that I would never

understand, but it didn’t matter, because

I just knew that I had to be close to it.

In its glow. Whatever it was. And is.

And in my wisps of memory, I remember

driving up a hill and watching a girl walk

up the sidewalk, and me thinking in my

loneliness that I wished that I had

a girlfriend with a nice butt like that.

And then the girl turned her head,

and miracle of miracles she smiled

at me and she was you.

And ever since that first gift of a smile,

you’ve brought me immeasurable

bounty. Much better than Zeus’ gifts to

Copia, Fortuna, and Pax. The cornucopia.

Years of interesting conversations most

couples won’t have in a lifetime

about issues both mundane and sublime.

Always thoughtful, if not always in agreement.

Miles of roads travelled, hand in

hand with each other, and sometimes

with ancestors, both yours and mine.

Time stands still, and flies.

Acres of understanding of my strange

Iowa man/boy ways. Sometimes

above and beyond your own best judgment.

Thank you.

And my God, the gifts of children,

first yours, then ours, then ours again. Then

lovely grandbabies. You brought your teeming

river of life up and over the banks, immersing me.

Joyfully.

And now I’m the luckiest guy in the world

pulling kid’s bikes out of the driveway,

cooking spaghetti for the millionth time,

unplugging clogged toilets, hearing

the story of Archaeopteryx yet again,

among thousands of the other small

joys of our good life.

And believe it or not, every time

I look into your green eyes, they still draw

me in and I fall like a pebble down a well

except for the splash, cause I just keep

falling and know that I will never hit bottom.

Picking Iowa Sweet Corn at Dan D Farms

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 15:55:00 -0700

Eating Dan D Farms sweet corn is an Iowa tradition. Actually, people all over the world love the corn, coming to the Knoxville Nationals in August and shipping it home. Every year for the past several years I have joined Dan Dennison and his corn picking crew in the early morning to speak with them about picking corn, and this important Marion County tradition. Dan is a great guy to talk to, and the kids he hires to pick corn are fun too. Here is this year's interview.

http://www.kniakrls.com/2011/07/in-depth-picking-dan-d-farms-sweet-corn/

Coal Mining In Marion County

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Mon, 25 Jul 2011 16:57:00 -0700

You wouldn't know it now but Marion County, IA was built on coal mining. Local historian Doug Wilson is an incredible source of information on Coal Mining in the county as well as other localities in Iowa. Here is my three part interview with Doug.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Watermelon

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Wed, 6 Jul 2011 11:25:00 -0700

The watermelon appeared on the front porch one hot Saturday afternoon in September, sitting in my patio chair with a bit of dirt and bird poop on it. It was about the size of a basketball and nearly as round and it was green, not striped, and I looked across the street at the house and machine shed where Jim worked on his tractor and knew where it came from. I yelled for the kids and we hosed it off, pulled a little yard table and more chairs off the deck and into the grass and under the shade of the big elm out front.

I grabbed a butcher knife and we sliced the melon into big chunks and ate it with the juice running down our chins onto our shirts and I taught the kids how to spit watermelon seeds at each other and me and how to pinch them between your fingers and shoot them at each other and other things we had a mind to including the dogs. We hoped Mom would walk out the door but she didn’t. Asa who is seven said we sure are going to have a lot of watermelon volunteers in the spring aren’t we, and I said yes.

When we got to the center of the watermelon I pointed the big knife down and cut out a pyramid of the beautiful red seedless center and gave it to Johanna and said this is called the heart of the watermelon and I am giving it to you. She paused for a moment giving that statement her four year old consideration it deserved, smiled and ate it. We ate that melon like wolves, threw the rinds and what was left in what Mom calls the compost heap and really isn’t, hosed ourselves off, goofed in the yard until we were dry, and went back into the house to watch TV and read and Mom didn’t know any different.

A few days later my cell rang and I didn’t answer it, but listened to the message a couple of days after that and it was Jim and he said did you and the kids like that watermelon because if you did I have another one for you. When I saw Jim under the big trees in his yard on Saturday, I wandered across the road to his house, a hundred yards or so away, on the big round curve heading into town. His back was to me, as he was bent over the tailgate of his rusty 69 Chevy pickup so I shuffled a bit in the gravel as I crossed the road so as not to startle him. He turned and said walnuts. Shukin’ walnuts.

His nearly black hands worked quickly, peeling the crusty brown-green off walnuts. Wait til the husk dries a bit and shuck it off, and let them dry, bake them in the oven and they’re good eatin’ especially in baked stuff. Cookies and things. Cakes. He pointed. See all those walnuts on the ground there? Come on over anytime and take em home, I’m done with them and have this pickup bed full. He looked behind me and pointed. Those two trees over there are pecans, and I looked and saw the pecan shells starting to dry and spread, opening like wooden blooms, nearly ready to drop their nuts. Don’t see many pecan trees around here, I said. No, he replied, they open and drop their seeds like hickory’s do.

Kids like that watermelon? Yes, they did. I have some more he said, wiping his black hands on his jeans, and started into his back yard. Never planted these watermelons, he said. They just come up year after year. Must be volunteers from someones garden years ago. Maybe a dozen watermelons were scattered across what looked to be an old garden plot. Tomato plants and gourds grew amidst the watermelons. Volunteers. All volunteers he said. He reached over and pulled at a striped melon. This one’s stem’s dry. I guess it’s ready. I took the watermelon from his hands, and it was warm from the sun, with dirt and bird poop on it.

Don’t get your shirt dirty he said. I said it doesn’t matter. We walked back to the pickup so he could get back to shelling walnuts. I set the watermelon on the edge of the bed of the truck for a moment, and glanced into the back of the truck. Six dead blue jays were lined up, like in a specimen case in a natural history museum. Was feedin’ those one by one to the cat, but just got too many he said, shucking walnuts. They was getting the pecans. Jays can clear a pecan tree in no time if you don’t shoot em. Shoot them? I said. Yep, challengin’, he said with a little smile. Twenty two.

He continued shelling walnuts, and I wandered back across the street with the watermelon, wondering what the fine was for shooting blue jays, and thinking back to my granpa who thought blue jays were smarter and certainly more interesting than most people. I got home, set the watermelon in the grass in the shade of the elm, and went to get the hose. Kids, come out here, I yelled into the house. Watermelon!

Carnival Life in Southern Iowa

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Tue, 5 Jul 2011 09:27:00 -0700

Kenny Linville of Oskaloosa manages JKL Rides, a family venture. What's it like to run manage a carnival in southern Iowa? This podcast is one for KNIA/KRLS in Knoxville/Pella, IA. I saw Kenny and crew setting up for the Fourth of July in Bussey, IA, and stopped to speak with him. I don't know if I have ever known a man who works so hard. But I'll let Kenny tell his story here.

A Walk in the Woods: Ephemeral Wetlands

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Mon, 27 Jun 2011 17:06:00 -0700

Marion County Naturalist Marla Mertz is a treasure. She teaches kids and adults about nature, rescues wildlife, rehabilitates injured eagles and hawks, and does so with a gentle kindness and wisdom revered in other cultures and too often ignored in ours. She richly explains and brings great meaning to things that most of us drive by, too busy to care, much to our detriment, and to the earth's. She's a great teacher, and has taken Austin DeJong, a seasonal employee, and anyone who cares to listen along with her on her journey to understand and appreciate life on earth. Here her topic is ephemeral wetlands, and it's time for a walk in the woods on my program for KNIA/KRLS. The program can be found here.

Muddy Boots

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 18:35:00 -0700

It's raining as I write this. We're under a severe thunderstorm watch, and we have a flash flood warning until noon tomorrow. We have broken June to-date rainfall records that were set last year. Last year we broke records set in 2008. In 2008 we broke records set in 1993, another year of great Iowa floods. And so far, we're lucky--nothing here like the flooding on the Missouri. But it could yet come.

A few days ago I was driving home and noticed a US Geological Survey truck parked by the bridge at Cedar Creek. Of course, I pulled over and had a conversation with two young men who were taking readings at the Creek, and checking instrumentation there. Garret Welsh and Lance Gruen, employees of the USGS are also students at the University of Iowa who are studying hydrology.

Flash flood watches and warnings save property and lives. And you can have all the fanciest scientific equipment in the world, and it doesn't mean anything unless you have people checking that equipment, calibrating it, and making real-time observations. And those men and women who do this important work--have muddy boots. What's their job like? And what do they think of notions in Washington DC, and Des Moines that will result in support for these river monitoring services being cut? I work in news for a great radio station--KNIA/KRLS Knoxville/Pella, IA, and my interview with them can be heard here.

Mallet

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Sat, 25 Jun 2011 16:12:00 -0700

Old man Grayson in his overhauls, Red Wings,
and St. Louis Cardinal baseball cap grabbed my arm
at the primitive tool auction in Albia on Saturday
and said, “see that big ol’ mallet over there?”

And I nodded, looking where he pointed at a
rough old wooden mallet that was not from
this world but I didn’t know it yet that had
a hand-carved handle long as a broomstick,
thicker than the skinny end of a baseball bat with a
blocky oak head nearly the size of a concrete block.

I took it in my hands, shrugged, felt its weight, and
turned its business end to the ready and imagined
driving something with it, a big tent peg maybe when
Grayson said “my Granpa told before he died in 57
that that there mallet and those like ‘m was used to
drive timbers plumb and flush in the old coal mines,
like the Gold Goose he worked in the old days near
Hamilton, and all these old boys here at the auction just
think that these are mine tools but these here wood tools
are slave tools we brought with us from the plantations.

Or the idea of 'em anyway, ‘cause the plantation bosses
didn’t want black men with steel ‘cause steel was too
expensive to buy they said, but really with enough time --
and they sure had enough time -- a clever fella could make
a nice club or shiv outa steel and they didn’t want that, no sir."

And he looked at me and I said, “Oh.”

Hometown Meats

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Leonard) — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 14:12:00 -0700

“There’s some that likes the bone in and some that likes the bone out,” said Mary the butcher of the virtues of the Iowa chops at Hometown Meats.

“Sorry can’t sell ya that there bag a charcoal sir cause it ain't got no price tag on it,” said Julie the new checkout girl at Hometown Meats. “I can sell ya this Match Light though.”

“Hamburger? Ya got yur ground chuck which is the best for patties and grillin’ and this lean 80% for crumblin’ in stuff,” said Mary.

“Tastes like crap though,” said Gil from one of the tables.

“You shut up Gil, it’s better for your diet, though it don’t taste so good,” said Mary, “not that I said you should be on a diet though.”

Shuffling through his change, old Marty in his overhauls and John Deere cap pulled out 42 cents and said “I’d like 42 cents worth of baloney please.”

Mary cut it, and Marty walked out eating it, with a grin on his face like he was a kid eating a candy bar.