March/April 2023 (Volume 15, Issue 2)
By Arvid Huisman
From early 2000 through 2005 I spent at least one day a week — sometimes more — traveling the state of Iowa. As the executive director of the Iowa Newspaper Foundation, my job description included calling on Iowa’s 300-some (at that time) newspaper editors and publishers.
Though I’m glad that much travel is behind me, I did enjoy getting acquainted with every corner of our beautiful state.
During those years I visited every county seat in Iowa at least once; most of them several times. I visited all of our larger cities and many of our small towns.
I chatted with Amish farmers selling their wives’ home baked goodies from horse drawn wagons at rural road intersections and lunched with community leaders in some of the finer restaurants and country clubs in the state.
I also ate convenience store sandwiches while driving from one appointment to another.
It was a good experience and I learned a great deal about Iowa. The one constant from one corner of Iowa to another was the amiability I experienced nearly every where I went.
Around 9 a.m. one day I was in northwest Iowa and stopped at a small-town convenience store for a cup of coffee. All the coffee pots were empty when I walked in but the manager promised if I would wait a few minutes she’d have a fresh pot made.
As I waited three other gentlemen — all appeared to be farmers — walked in for a cup of coffee. We talked about the weather and one of the guys’ new pick-up truck. When the coffee was ready one of the men held back his buddies so I could have the first cup. “This guy drove up here all the way from Des Moines this morning,” he announced. “He gets the first cup.”
I would love to have stuck around and chewed the fat and sipped java with these guys, but I had an appointment down the road.
TO READ THE ENTIRE STORY AND OTHER FASCINATING STORIES ABOUT IOWA HISTORY, subscribe to Iowa History Journal.