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| Since moving to Iowa a few weeks ago, I feel like a sailor in a sea of corn. Photo by Stacy Roggentien |
MARENGO, IA – I’ve written before that I’m not much of a reporter. I say that because I often insert myself into the story – not because I feel as though I have something special to say but rather to make the story more human. I work hard to see with the eyes of others – to report personally on the life and color of our world without adding too much of my own bias. But on occasions such as this, I violate even that concept.
Despite the real estate slump, thousands of people are still moving to Florida. As most people know, others are leaving the state as well. The reasons are varied: family, finances, foreclosures – and that is just the “F’s”.
In 1994, my wife and I moved to Florida to live aboard our sailboat. When we arrived, all of our possessions, aside from those stored on the boat, could fit in our car. Recently, we have decided to join those on the outbound migration. This time via a rental truck and a moving company.
Our reasons for leaving are among the various reasons that anyone may have. We wanted to be closer to our family and we hope to lower our cost of living. In the process, we will try to make a quieter life for ourselves. That we do not have that in Florida is not the because of the Sunshine State, rather it is our own doing. We simply hope to undo it.
As a result, we have moved to Iowa.
Until last week, I have never before lived in Iowa. I grew up in Minnesota and this is as close as I would want to get to that state – during the winter months, at least. But more than that, life seems to be good here. There is no boom and bust mentality; there appear to be few arguments about community plans (yes, they have them; yes, they apparently even stick to them); and the results of a recent property tax increase can be seen in improvements to the community hospital and the library.
Is it heaven? No, it’s Iowa.
While traveling this summer I pulled off the freeway for lunch near Iowa City. In the restaurant, I looked around and noticed how normal everything appeared. The place was immaculate and there were families dining and enjoying their time together. The scene was striking to me somehow. After lunch, I called my wife and told her, “We should check into this place, there is something special here.”
Little did I know she would actually do just that. Michelle recently accepted an excellent job offer from a company just outside our small town. Her time spent commuting will be a fraction of what it is in Tampa.
Just about the same time, a major metropolitan newspaper up north called to ask if I could write a feature story on a freelance basis for their Sunday edition. For some reason it seemed as though things were falling into place for a move.
We purchased a somewhat neglected 85-year-old house with tremendous potential at a price we could afford. It reminds me of our first boat – it, too, was neglected but had the potential to go far. The town, coincidentally, is much like a land-based version of the Ruskin marina we sailed into nearly 14 years ago. It’s somewhat quirky – but in a good way – and there is life here: children and families and elderly people combine into a real community where everyone waves as they drive by and no one is too busy in the hardware store to answer a few questions or look up a telephone number for a local handyman.
Basically, I’ve traded the blue water of the Gulf for a sea of corn. All in all, at this time in my life, it’s not a bad trade. After so many years in Florida, it is stunning to see and feel the seasons change. Maybe this is heaven after all.
On the streets and sidewalks children ride their bikes; trucks, cars and tractors pass and sometimes people ask, “Why did you move to Iowa?” The answer, of course, is simple yet complex: “Because you’re here. Because autumn is here. Because children ride their bikes past my house and play in the town park. Because seemingly half the town turned out to watch the high school football team take on an archrival. Because my mother is only a few hours away. Because people, by and large, seem to be happy here.”
Naturally, most of that can be found in Florida, too – but such scenes of life are more evident here – they are all compressed into this town set among the corn.
Incredibly, our drive to shopping centers, restaurants and large national chain stores is equal to or less than the drive I had in the Tampa Bay area. The general lack of traffic is most certainly a perk in that regard. There are no numbers to take at the courthouse when conducting the business of life – a visit is less about waiting in line and more about having a brief chat with the person behind the counter.
All in all, it is a good life. But it isn’t Florida.
I am – and always will be – tied to Florida. Looking out over the horizon on the Gulf of Mexico never fails to fire my imagination. Also, my job at the Observer News has forever changed the way I will feel about the Sunshine State. Not only am I privileged to have the best possible co-workers and managers, I have had the opportunity over the years to meet some of the most incredible people – many of whom have had a real impact on my life. Many of whom have become friends.
My home is now in a town of 2,500 souls in Iowa. But in many ways, my true home is still among the 100,000 or so people in South Hillsborough County, Florida. As long as you and my editor allow it, I will continue writing stories and taking photographs for the Observer News and Riverview Current during monthly visits to bay area. I may not be able to attend all of the meetings and events that make South Hillsborough a special place but I will do my best to take in what I can.
Also, given that winter will soon arrive in the Midwest, chances are that no one will have to look far to find me. I’ll be the guy on the beach staring out into the Gulf.
Would you like to comment on this or other stories? Want to hear what life is like in a small Iowa farm town? My email address remains the same: mitch@observernews.net. My mailing address is P.O. Box 391, Marengo, IA, 52301.
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