We're an odd lot, Iowans beyond state boundaries. I've heard enough migration stories to classify people into one (or more) of three categories: pursuit of fortune, pursuit of love, or mere adventure. We yearn to know each other, to speak of our shared connection like survivors of some Atlantian catastrophe, regardless of the social circumstances or prior acquaintance. I left for good reason (along with over half my high school and college classes), though part of me belongs to the great prairie in my heart. Others must feel the same.
I've lived in many places: east coast, west coast, south, midwest, and abroad. Some are insular, some are welcoming, some could care less. Regardless of locale, Iowans reach out to one of their own. This is never more evident then when I wear my RAGBRAI jersey. Yes, it's an epic bike ride. But it also identifies you as part of a tribe. Never have I gone out without one random person walking/cycling alongside and asking which year i rode, where I'm from, and/or telling me what part of Iowa they're from. The first time was pleasant. The second felt like dumb luck. The 45th was almost annoying in their yearning for connection. It must stem from a sense of forced separation from a place of love and belonging. Portland seems full of Iowans, it makes me feel at home. I like to think the best of us moved here.
I'll admit that I enjoy meeting others from my adopted home state, having technically been born in Texas. There's a shared sense of experience, culture, and friendliness that I just don't get from Californians or Pennsylvanians (no offense). But why do Iowans reach out so much, almost pathologically, in a way that others do not? I'm truly at a loss. Are we trying to save the family farm of our heart, even if we grew up in a factory town? Or are we listening to James Earl Jones, hoping people will come to the places we left behind, longing for the past. It's a quirk, but I don't mind, for it reminds me that I'm not alone in my nostalgia...
