Mom and Dad's house was built in 1900 with money that came from the Jesse James gang - seriously. The people who built it had lived in Tama, Iowa, where the wife ran a boarding house and the husband worked for the railroad. Apparently Jesse and the boys stayed there for awhile, getting tips from the railroad guy and being well fed by the Mrs. The gang's real identity was carefully protected by the couple, affording them the luxury of snatching a fair amount of loot from that particular railroad for awhile. When the gang moved on, they rewarded their kindly hosts with a rather large chunk of change it would seem, as these people later left Tama, moved to this area and bought 3 good sized farms in addition to building this grand 13-room Victorian house smack-dab at the end of Main Street. I love that story, partly because I have always been fascinated by bad boys anyway.

Another bit of this-house trivia: in 1934, Bonnie and Clyde supposedly sat on the front lawn and ate sandwiches before robbing the bank two blocks up the street. The story goes that just after the robbery, my uncle Otty was having his morning coffee break on his farm just south of town. The local cop at that time drove into Otty's farmyard, got out and joined him for a cup of joe. When Otty asked him what he was up to that day, the copper told him he was pursuing the Barrows gang but figured he'd stop and visit first. I think that's hilarious! Kind of smacks of Barney Fife with his one bullet in his pocket

. little Mojo in the garden behind the house and barn

So, yes. Here I sit in the house where I learned to climb a tree, played ball with the boys in the yard, threw inappropriate things down the clothes chute (including a neighbor boy... ok, I didn't throw him - he went down on his own), practiced my free throws on the barn-mounted wobbly basketball hoop with no net, played in the hayloft in the barn (which later became a "pad" in the 70's when my brother and his friend "decorated" the space for their boys-only parties... pissed me right off, of course). This house also ushered in momentous occasions like my first puppy, my first date, my first kiss, my first real boyfriend, my first love, my first heartbreak, my first drink and my first bra (not in that order). Ironically, I ran into my first love the other evening uptown as I was on my way to my 30-year high school class reunion. We spoke for a bit, as he was with his family and didn't exactly have ample time to chat, nor did I. It was interesting - he's still the same guy in there, I think, but SO different than the MB I knew in 1976. Aside from the balding gray hair, he seemed so... well, nervous and almost high-strung, which is diametrically opposed to the 70's MB who was just so cool and so seemingly comfortable with life and himself and the world. Then again, that was MY 1970's perception, and he was a boy and they DO screw up not only my jumpshot but also my ability to see reality sometimes. Oh, well - it was still nice bumping into him.

So, back to Iowa. Oh, Iowa - your wacky weather, your kooky "Fargo" accents, your endless acres of flat fields and smelly hog farms and mud-and-bug-plastered pickups... then there's the food thing. In this part of the country, food is a really really big deal and gets almost as much conversation time as the weather. Much of this is a remnant of the old timey farm days when there was serious manual labor involved in daily chores. The norm was to have six meals a day: huge breakfast before dawn with eggs and pork products and pancakes and assorted other filling breakfasty things; then a morning "lunch" which was usually pie or pastry and coffee; then "dinner" at noon which included more hot meat and 28 starchy side dishes; then there was afternoon "lunch" which was usually sandwiches and coffee; then of course supper at 6 - the biggest meal of the day (as if the previous four were just a warm-up); then around 7:30 or 8:00 there was an evening "lunch", which could range from sandwiches to sweets to cereal, et. al. Of course, back then the caloric needs were fairly high so this kind of eating was doable. Today, however, so much of farming is automated and "cushified" (my word, I think) that the caloric requirements are far less, tho the "hail to the mass quantities of food" tradition continues to some degree. Oh, well, despite their enticing attempts to fatten me up when I'm here, they do raise some tasty cattle and are pretty darn good people overall. 

In my younger years, while living in much larger cities far away from Iowa, I used to feel that coming back here was a chore of sorts, that I had somehow become "too cool" for this little podunk town and way of life. I remember wondering how or why anyone would stay here when there was so much more exciting stuff "out there". In recent years, however, it has dawned on me that not only was I very lucky to have grown up in such a place, but those that did choose to make this their home beyond childhood are very lucky, too. They have a true sense of community, of belonging and of a certain kinship with their neighbors. (in a town this size, pretty much everyone is your neighbor)

So now I just let it all flow over me like a warm August breeze. I embrace this place, thank it for it's contributions to my memories and my character and will bid it a fond "see ya later then" when I leave on Friday. As much as I know I couldn't live here now, it gives me a warm-fuzzy just knowing that Everly is still here and probably always will be. 

The Cattlefeeders may no longer be the team mascot name, but the Cattlefeeder pride lives on. I think that's pretty darn cool. Go Feeders!