... And Iowa Now

Another note from Greetings: Makes me proud to have been born and raised there. Fierce independence is the best remedy. And this essay shows it hasn't changed from the previous essay on "old times" in Iowa.

January 3, 2008
Op-Ed Contributor, NY Times
By LAN SAMANTHA CHANG
Iowa City

SOON, life here in Iowa returns to normal.

After months of campaigning from basement apartments, the guests from out of state will head for the airports. Their vacated apartments will be aired out and put to order. As several thousand reporters move on to New Hampshire, the local talk will turn from caucusing to a more global topic: weather. Iowans will settle in for the heart of winter, when the political yard signs will be buried in snow.

As recent newcomers from Massachusetts, my husband, Rob, and I will regret the closing of the Iowa primary season. We are awestruck to find ourselves living in a state where we need only walk three blocks to see pop icons opening for major candidates. We are thrilled to live where home prices are such that we don’t have to be millionaires to put up a political yard sign. This year, we rushed to participate. In mid-October, we signed commitment cards and planted the symbol of our candidate on our front lawn.

In contrast, our more experienced Iowan friends and neighbors are philosophical about their role in American politics. I wouldn’t say jaded. The 10 percent who will brave the snow and cold to attend precinct caucuses take this responsibility to heart, but they don’t let it go to their heads. This year, many waited to make their decisions. They talked to half a dozen candidates they did not end up supporting. Some will stay undecided until tonight. And with the caucuses soon to be over, there are those who even look forward to moving on.

Our neighbor with the astonishingly beautiful garden looks forward to getting his seeds in order for the summer. He has lived in our precinct for so many years that he can remember much earlier waves of political activism, as well as the previous, unfortunate preferences of other caucusing neighbors. Like everyone on our block, he has been bombarded with political mail, but he is happy to report that he also received nine gardening catalogs on Monday.

At the Hamburg Inn No. 2, a popular campaign stop downtown, the owner, Dave Panther, is reflecting on the primary season and, of course, the weather. In 2007, the Hamburg served several candidates and their spouses, including Bill Clinton (Swiss, tomato and green pepper omelet with home fries); Barack Obama (Iowa omelet of ham, hash browns and American cheese, with sweet-potato pancakes); and Mitt Romney (“It was so crowded,” says Mr. Panther, “that he didn’t have time to eat.”).

What does he make of having been at the white-hot center of American presidential politics? “Well,” he says slowly, “the business helped us in December to make up for the weather. The weather hurt us, but the political end kind of held the month up.”

Every four years, the restaurant holds its Iowa Coffee Bean Caucus Pre-Election Poll. Patrons vote by putting a coffee bean in a glass jar marked for their candidate. This method is quintessentially Iowan: truth-seeking, modest and concrete. It is conducted with household objects that are reusable and/or consumable, although

Mr. Panther tosses the beans after the caucus because “they’ve been handled — a lot.” But when all the beans have been counted, it is theoretically possible to simply gather the results and add them to the brew. No big deal.

As our season in the national spotlight comes to an end, some have asked, “Why Iowa?” Why this hoopla for the votes of a state with more pigs than people? To this, I would respond, “Why not Iowa?” It has no national sports teams; there is plenty of untapped loyalty in the air. Its appreciation for diversity, I think, is underrated. Most important, Iowans possess a healthy Midwestern skepticism paired with a remarkably low level of cynicism. They are confident in their right, held by all Americans: the right to hold the future of the nation in their hands.

Tonight, when Rob and I stand in the local high school cafeteria with new friends and neighbors, we will be reborn as Iowans. Tomorrow, when it’s all over, we will settle in for a long winter. We will purchase warmer clothing. We will spin winter dreams, like new strategies for the next hotly contested caucus season. Next time, we will make the most of our moment in the spotlight. We will be “undecideds” for as long as possible.

Lan Samantha Chang is the director of the University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop.