About a decade ago, I stumbled into an unforgettable conversation. I was in Maine visiting a long-time friend, a retired writer/editor, when a third fellow stopped by for an after-dinner drink. I knew this man, a retired Boston newspaper reporter, although not well. We settled into comfortable chairs, forming a conversation triangle.
“Go ahead, ask me anything,” said our newly arrived colleague, peering at me over his scotch, presumably his attempt to get better acquainted. “So, I’d like to talk about your son,” I responded, neither a question nor a command. We three then launched into an intimate, two-hour conversation, abandoning any natural reserve, mine rooted in Scandinavian DNA.
Years before, his son, then in his early 30s, went to Harvard Square and doused himself with flammable liquid, which he then ignited. I was only vaguely aware of his suicide. To describe this as a disruptive family event would be an understatement. The exchange that followed was honest and emotional, touching on hopes and dreams, on loss and grief. We expressed our fears and shared our tears. In retrospect, this conversation changed me in still emerging ways.
As an outgrowth, I vowed to be more open and expressive, more contemplative and reflective, more outbound in my concern for others. I might have scored marginally well in several of these categories before (self-assessment), but who among us isn’t a work in progress, leaving ample room for improvement? Any assignment to “tell others about me” brings this Maine conversation to the surface, accompanied by my desire to respond honestly and candidly.
I’m an Iowa country boy, not identical to being a farm boy. Dad worked at a factory, farming just enough to feed a few beef cattle, a milk cow, and chickens. I have five siblings: one sister, four brothers. Mom briefly taught kindergarten, a background that provided her children with an elementary school jump start. Early life focused on family and community, school and church, relatives and neighbors, an emphasis on pitch-in and make-do.
This is relevant partially because our home now is in this same community north of St. Ansgar, having lived elsewhere before building a house “out in the country” two decades ago. I’m six generations deep in my rural location; if you’re of European descent, it’s about as far back as you can stretch. I met my life mate during our first year in college (Luther, in Decorah). Her family’s story meshes easily with mine. We wed 44 years ago.
My career was primarily consulting with nonprofit institutions, assisting them with planning, community relations, and fundraising. Paula’s MBA from Wharton, University of Pennsylvania, and her career in financial services ensured a level of financial stability. She now serves on corporate boards while I serve on nonprofit boards. Our family includes three grown children: two daughters, their husbands, and four grandchildren in Chicago, and a son in the Twin Cities.
I started writing a weekly column, “Showing Up,” three years ago. I have an expansive range of interests: politics, sports, music, art, literature, language, religion, travel, history, and the humanities (yes, a long, eclectic list). Each of these interests surfaces over time through activities and in my writing, generally from a North Iowa perspective. The objective of my column is to provide people with information they might not know from a vantage point they might not have considered. My focus is usually a rural-centric world, including glimpses of people, of events, and of a way of life I’m familiar with. I attempt to avoid overt nostalgia and pontificating, although I lapse occasionally.
I also heed Dad’s advice after having written a half-dozen columns. “I like your columns,” he offered… (pause)… “but think they’d be better if they were a little shorter.” Accordingly, although my first editor said I could submit as many as 800 words, I seek to confine myself to 650, which is where I am right now.
I’m proud to be a member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. We welcome two new columnists this week; Pat Kinney, a former reporter from the Waterloo Courier, and Kurt Meyer, a columnist from St. Ansgar.
Iowa Writers’ Collaborative Columnists
Laura Belin: Iowa Politics with Laura Belin, Windsor Heights
Doug Burns: The Iowa Mercury, Carroll
Dave Busiek: Dave Busiek on Media, Des Moines
Art Cullen: Art Cullen’s Notebook, Storm Lake
Suzanna de Baca Dispatches from the Heartland, Huxley
Debra Engle: A Whole New World, Madison County
Julie Gammack: Julie Gammack’s Iowa Potluck, Des Moines and Okoboji
Joe Geha: Fern and Joe, Ames
Jody Gifford: Benign Inspiration, West Des Moines
Beth Hoffman: In the Dirt, Lovilla
Dana James: New Black Iowa, Des Moines
Tar Macias: Hola Iowa, Iowa
Kurt Meyer, Showing Up, St. Ansgar
Pat Kinney: View from Cedar Valley, Waterloo
Fern Kupfer: Fern and Joe, Ames
Robert Leonard: Deep Midwest: Politics and Culture, Bussey
Kyle Munson, Kyle Munson’s Main Street, Des Moines
John Naughton: My Life, in Color, Des Moines
Chuck Offenburger: Iowa Boy Chuck Offenburger, Jefferson and Des Moines
Barry Piatt: Behind the Curtain, Washington, D.C.
Mary Swander: Mary Swander’s Buggy Land, Kalona
Mary Swander: Mary Swander’s Emerging Voices, Kalona
Cheryl Tevis: Unfinished Business, Boone County
Ed Tibbetts: Along the Mississippi, Davenport
Teresa Zilk: Talking Good, Des Moines
To receive a weekly roundup of all Iowa Writers’ Collaborative columnists, sign up here (free): ROUNDUP COLUMN
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Welcome, Kurt!
Welcome Kurt! Glad you are here and looking forward to reading your columns. Maybe you can teach me to keep to 650 words!