Oh, My Iowa…

It was extremely impulsive of me to have registered for the Iowa Writers’ Summer Festival in Iowa City. The session I registered for runs June 12^th through 17^th at the University of Iowa. I didn’t think much; I just registered, despite the bleak financial implications. Yes, writing is my chosen vocation, but Iowa means a lot more: it’s the special place that shaped me into the person I am. It’s a place that became home to me… it’s a place that gave me a second chance at life…. My mind is saturated by delicious nostalgia, and I feel glad to be alive. I have missed Iowa and the many faces that never ceased to conjure up love and belonging, mercy and forgiveness, dreams and the multitudinous hands that helped me pick up shards when those dreams were shattered. I write from these brown hands that once prayed to a power I didn’t know about. I was lost in many ways, and I still might be, but I found a pasture among the rolling hills, among the far-reaching cornfields, among endless blue skies… to rest… to reflect… to rebuild… to start over. Oh, My Iowa…

I remember like it was yesterday how I was looking for sky-scrapers and landscapes dotted with neon billboards when Heather picked me up from the Mason City airport. It was such a little domestic airport that it instantly disappointed me. I was Broadway-bound. At least so I thought. Then I landed at Waldorf like a brown leaf blown by remnants of summer wind. I thought it smelled of cow dung and manure. I thought it was a world away from the glamour I envisioned. And it was. Oh, my Iowa…

The two years at Waldorf changed me so much that I can’t even remember who I was before. Sometimes, when frustrated by the grueling realities of my present condition, I close my eyes and dream of bygone grandeur: the Moses Hogan Festival, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, the choir trip to Europe, the Global Culture Club, Antigone, Beloved Friend, Good Person of Setzuan, You Never Can Tell, The 1940’s Radio Hour, Hamlet, Rozencrants and Guildenstern are Dead,  Smith Theater, The Lobbyist newspaper, The chapel, Global Food Fest, Home Coming 1999, 2000 at the Schmidts’, South Tanner Residence Hall, The Atrium, The Lund Pond, The Viking statue, stew at Mary Beth’s… I can go on forever.  Oh, My Iowa…

I’m coming back. It’s been a long time, and the years have not been extremely kind to me, but I cherish the memories… the love… Oh, My Iowa… I’m coming home…