Round Glasses, Britain, and a Rural Community

A pair of blue jeans with two worn in spots: in the knees and the butt pocket where a wallet is supposed to go. Any shirt pairs well, but I love to see flannel, reminds me of Iowan sunsets in the fall while harvesting is going on. A pair of work boots, a baseball cap, and a pocket knife leave the house every morning with this style. Names like “country,” or “hillbilly,” or “redneck,” are used to describe individuals like this. Sometimes derogatory, sometimes empowering, depends on the day, the person, and the situation. When I see this style, I think of home my Uncle Daran, my friend Allison, and so many other dear loved ones.

            I’m from a small town in Southern Iowa. The biggest small town you’ll ever be in. A community grown from agriculture, taught me how to balance a busy schedule with enjoying the moment. Stop and smell the roses, no need to be in a hurry.  

            Due to my roses mantra, after an appointment last week, I stopped in a different rural town in Southwestern Iowa to capture some eerie, foggy photos of the older buildings on the main strip. All of the buildings were built with colorful brick, stone, or wood. The blocks of buildings popped with color and style against the dull sky. If I didn’t stop, I knew I would kick myself later for missing the moment.

            I ran up and down the blocks trying to capture the stillness of the town. The streets were empty, but filled with fog. I ran to a building on the corner of the last block of the strip. I stood in the middle of the street for a perspective that matched the haze from the weathered day.

            A woman met me in the middle of the street with questions in her brain and a story in her heart.

She was British.

From the West side of Scotland.

She met her husband in England.

He and I are alumni from the same college.

They moved to this rural town to spend time with his parents.

She wore spectacular round glasses.

Her outfit had a green theme.

I want her boots.

She let me take her photo in front of the county museum she is the president of.

            As we walked back towards my car, we ran into an older man wearing blue jeans with worn spots in the knees, a flannel, hat, work boots, and a cigarette in his mouth.

            Shouna called out, “Kenneth, how are you doing today?!”

            We all three chatted for a minute before I really had to scoot onto my next appointment for the day.

            I’m learning valuable lessons about being present in life, to listen to people’s stories, and try to be me in every environment I find myself in. I’m thankful to have met Shouna and experienced life with her.  

            Small town. Rural. Iowa, where people think we still use outhouses. I met an incredibly cultured human who cared deeply about family and enjoyed life day to day.

Adventure Awaits.