By Gary Anderson
It’s something we all tend to do. We take the place where we live for granted. I vividly remember the day I opened a checking account shortly after moving to Iowa from the West Coast. The young lady who helped me was friendly, but she seemed genuinely surprised when I enthused about how beautiful Iowa is.
When I told her how lucky she was to live in such a wonderful place, she looked up from the form she was filling out and said, “Oh, I guess I never noticed.” She looked out the window for a moment, then added, “I’ve lived here all my life, so it’s just always been the place I live.”
It was an honest response and totally understandable. We generally don’t appreciate the beauty and allure of a place if that’s all we know. It sometimes takes a new set of eyes to help us open our own.
Here’s a more recent example. On Mother’s Day, my kids’ mom was flying out from Oregon to see them (and her grandkids). She was due to fly into Mason City, but we got a frantic call from her in Denver, saying she’d missed her flight, so they were flying her into Cedar Rapids instead.
That was fine. For us it was about the same distance either wayóbut apparently her luggage had made the plane and was being delivered to Mason City as scheduled. Now that was a problem! After some debate, we decided that my daughter and her kids would go to Cedar Rapids while my son and I went to Mason City. The difficulty was that it’s a 100-mile drive to Mason City from our little farm and there was no way we could make it before the airport closed for the day.
I called the airport and a sweet lady listened sympathetically to my dilemma, then said, “No problem at all. I’ll leave her bag on the side of the building, next to the pilot’s lounge.”
Something in my just-escaped-from-the-Big-City brain refused to believe what I’d just heard. Had she really said she’d leave the bag for me to pick up after hoursówith no claim check, no identification? I could almost feel the smoke of disbelief wafting out of my ears as I struggled to process that information!
I thanked her profusely and hung up. Then my son and I set out, neither of us fully believing such a thing was possibleóbut when we finally arrived, we got a shock. I tried the front doors, but they were locked. I then went around to the side of the building, hoping no uniformed guard came up to demand why I was snooping around the airport after hours.
Finally, I found a small door that was open. I peeked my head inside and said, “Hello? Anyone here?”
No answer.
I walked inóand there was the bag, leaning against a wall. I couldn’t help shaking my head at the sheer wonder of it! I looked around a little more, but found no one to tell about what I was doing, so I just picked up the bag and walked back to the van.
Anyone who has done any traveling anywhere in the world in the past decade or so will realize what a miracle that simple act of kindness actually was! It would have been impossible, in factóand that’s what I’m talking about when I say that we often don’t appreciate what an amazing place we live in. Amazing enough that when my jaded West Coast friends sarcastically ask, “Is it heaven?” I just smile and reply, “No, it’s Iowa, but it’s awful darned close!”
Freelance writer and editor Gary Anderson has published four books of Iowa humor and inspiration. He also owns www.abciowa.com and a publishing company, Paradise Creek Books.|