I, I, Iowa

So, gay marriage in Iowa. I can't say I saw that one coming. It's not because of any prejudice about the people there, but because honestly, I don't give Iowa much thought. I spent 23/26ths of my life in the midwest, and Iowa is the only state in the region I've never visited.

I have to say, though, that my lack of experience with the place gives it a sort of picturesque, fantastical quality. I've spent so much time in Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, and downstate Illinois, and the "Heartland of America" eventually gets tainted by the reality of run-down farmhouses, trashy trailer parks, and miles of dull open space dotted with factories, drab towns, and the occasional "World's Biggest" roadside attraction. Granted, this is all part of the quintessential American tableau, and no place is perfect when you look closely enough. I understand that, and the midwest does have places of breathtaking beauty and incredible people. But none of it compares to the untarnished Iowa of my mind.

It is Hollywood's midwest: 100% rolling hills, amber waves, cornbread, and mom 'n pop shops. The sky is blue, the barns are red, and everyone wears flannel and helps out on the farm. Iowa is Smallville. Even the urban areas sound quiet and organized and full of nice people living happy lives. The names alone -- Dubuque, Ames, Des Moines, Sioux City -- evoke a certain calm, utopian feel. Not Stepford... just peaceful.

Obviously this is all trumped up fantasy, and my imaginary Iowa would turn into the crappy real world as soon as I visited for the first time. Luckily, I have no plans to go there... ever. Fake Iowa is important to me. There needs to be a place like that in everyone's mind: not just a fantasy world, but somewhere close to home that's an idealized version of what you know. And it needs the potential of being real. That's why when I first read the news about Iowa allowing gay marriage, my first thought was, "Oh... great, that's not really relevant to me," but my second thought was, "On second thought, that's the most perfect place to have it."

Folk singer Dar Williams once compared the hills of Iowa to the curves of a woman, and the image inspired one of my all-time favorite songs. I suggest you download it through whatever (completely legal) medium you desire. It's a beautiful song, but it has a little extra poignancy in light of the recent marriage decision:

I've never had a way with women,
But the hills of Iowa make me wish that I could.
And I've never found a way to say I love you
But if the chance came by, oh I, I would.
But way back where I come from, we never mean to bother.
We never make our passions other people's concern.
And we walk in the world of safe people,
And at night we walk into our houses and burn.

Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh, Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-I, Iowa.

How I long to fall just a little bit,
To dance out of the lines and stray from the light,
But I fear that to fall in love with you
Is to fall from a great and gruesome height.
So I asked a friend about it on a bad day, her husband had just
Left her, and she sat down in the chair he left behind.
She said, "What is love, where did it get me?
Whoever thought of love is no friend of mine."

Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh, Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-I, Iowa.

Once I had everything, I gave it up
For the shoulder of your driveway and the words I never felt,
And so for you, I came this far across the tracks,
Ten miles above the limit and with no seat belt, and I'd do it again.
For tonight I went running through the screen doors of discretion
For I woke up from a nightmare that I could not stand to see.
You were a-wandering out on the hills of Iowa and
You were not thinking of me.

Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh, Iowa, oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-I, Iowa.