I’m originally from the Midwest, born in Omaha, Nebraska, but I spent much of my childhood in rural Iowa, about an hour away. My two uncles lived there, and a third split his time between Iowa and Florida. When my Grams, my mom, and I moved away, Iowa became the natural gathering spot for family reunions. In 2013, we decided to meet there again.
Grams had permanently moved to California in the late 1990s, and my mom and I followed in the late 2000s after I graduated high school. Just before this trip, I had returned to Iowa after a brief and failed move to Florida. Fresh off being laid off from my job, I flew from Burbank to Des Moines. I could’ve joined my family on a two-week road trip through the Black Hills and Yellowstone, but I chose the faster route and met them in Iowa.
Family Reunion
Grams often complained that she didn’t see her children, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren enough. One of my uncles, a camping enthusiast, suggested reserving campgrounds for a family reunion, and Grams eagerly agreed. We tried inviting every branch of the family tree, hoping to make it a big reunion. Since I had a job, I could only attend for the weekend, so I flew in while the rest of my family rented an RV and drove from California.
Family from north and south gathered for the weekend—camping, fishing, storytelling, and, naturally, drinking, because that’s what my family does. We eat, watch college football, and drink. While everyone enjoyed fishing, hiking, and playing cornhole, I spent much of the time reflecting on my layoff, wondering what I’d do next.
Thrift Store
One thing I’ve always loved about the Midwest is the antiquing. From the East Coast to the Midwest, you’ll never find better antiques than in Iowa. There’s a reason American Pickers is based there. The thrift stores in small towns are treasure troves, and visiting them was one of Grams’ favorite pastimes.
During this trip, we visited some cousins in Newton and stopped by the local thrift stores. Like many Midwestern towns, Newton’s downtown is centered around a courthouse square, and its main drag was full of hidden gems.
Maytag Blue Cheese
Another priority for Grams was stocking up on Maytag Blue Cheese—not just for herself but for everyone she knew. While I’m not a fan of blue cheese, I learned a lot about the cheese-making process during our visit. Surprisingly, it fascinated me, despite my initial disinterest.
Local Customs in the Midwest
One of the amusing customs I’d forgotten about until returning to Iowa was “Sunday driving.” It’s a slow-paced ritual where people, with nowhere to be, leisurely drive around and wave at everyone they pass. Even the local grocery store, Fareway, closes on Sundays.
Driving from Des Moines to Newton, we found ourselves stuck behind slow-moving cars whose drivers waved at us like old friends. As impatient Californians, we kept asking each other, “Do you know them?” The confusion was mutual.
That same kind of confusion washed over me when I was doing a grocery store run to get some supplies and I went into Fareway (while it was open of course) and people were staring at me. It took me a minute to realize that people were gawking at me because I was an “out-of-towner” and I wanted to shout at them “I’m from here!” Even if I grew up in the Midwest, I was no longer from the Midwest and that hit me hard. I had spent more of my life, living in other areas at that point than I had in the Midwest.
It didn’t matter how many casseroles I consumed, that if I ever were to eat chili I would dip a cinnamon roll in it, that I still call it pop, say “ope!” and “gonna sneak right past ya!” or have to have a Runza every time I’m back home that I’m just not who I used to be. So naturally, I drank myself into a stupor and lamented over the fact that I had become something other.
Inclement Weather Wrap Up
Bad weather seems to follow my family. Whether it was snowstorms in New Hampshire or hurricanes in Florida, extreme weather has been a constant wherever we’ve lived. Naturally, while we were at the reunion, we joked about the possibility of a tornado.
The next day, a tornado hit our campground. My uncle, trying to escape due to claustrophobia, ended up stuck in the bathroom shelter. My cousin, a first responder who had been drinking, panicked about not being able to help. I jokingly offered to knock him out if needed, to which he replied, “I don’t know if I’m grateful or scared.”
We had parked the RV near the bathrooms on purpose, so Grams wouldn’t have to walk far. I was by the lake when the tornado hit and had to sprint back to safety. The tornado was rain-wrapped, so all I could see was a wall of water. I dropped my camera and ran to the bathroom shelter, arriving at the same time as my mom and Grams. My mom handed me her inhaler, joking, “I didn’t know you could move like that.” We spent about 15 minutes in the shelter while the storm passed.
We did not have sirens in any of the towns while I was growing up. I have since been back to my hometown and they still do not have these but they do have them in the urban cities and in the larger towns in more rural parts but not in the super small towns. Guess those guys are on their own and hopefully they have the weather alerts on their phones I guess.
Where Are They Now
Since that reunion, I’ve only seen some of those cousins at my uncle’s funeral. Despite our promises to meet regularly, life got in the way. Some cousins started college, others had kids or got married. The youngest, at the reunion, hadn’t even started high school yet.
I doubt we’ll ever have another reunion like that. It was the last time we gathered as a family, and I’m glad we gave Grams that experience. She passed away recently, and with her gone, the chances of another reunion are slim. They didn’t have a funeral for her or my uncle, so if we can’t come together to mourn, we probably won’t gather just to enjoy each other’s company.