We talk a lot these days about what it means to be “Iowa nice.” I suppose that’s something we can thank Scott Siepker, the Iowa Nice Guy for. When he’s not verbally demolishing Nebraska fans or giving members a national media a slightly profane introduction to our state, he’s often reminding us we’re a little different than the rest of the country.
And that’s OK.
It wasn’t until I moved to California a decade ago that I first started to see just how Iowans are a little different. I moved into a small apartment building in Santa Monica, and I immediately set out to get to know my neighbors. This was something they were completely unprepared for. They told me later that their initial assumption was that I was a spy for the landlord.
Really though, I was just doing what my parents taught me. Whether it was just offering to help carry in an extra bag of groceries or just making small talk when we met in the common areas, I was trying to create a connection with them.
(It may have also had a lot to do with the fact that I’d moved to California without knowing anyone and I was pretty lonely that first month.)
Talking is just something that Iowans do though. I had a friend from college come back into town this summer and as he helped me with a couple of home remodeling projects he told that we Iowans are awfully inefficient people. See, Alex is a process improvement manager, which is really just a fancy title for someone who pokes his nose into things and makes suggestions.
To Alex, you could get an awful lot more done if you could go to someone’s house to borrow their tile saw without having to stop and have a beer with them, and spend the next hour catching up on what’s going on each other’s lives. Alex was amazed that people everywhere, complete strangers wanted to take time out of their days to talk to him — that they actually seemed to take an interest in him and were genuinely interested in his well being.
It seemed like he couldn’t go anywhere without making a new friend. During a routine checkup at the VA hospital in Des Moines, the receptionist talked to him the entire time he waited to see the doctor.
That shouldn’t come as any surprise to you though. If you’re reading this, you’re probably an Iowan, just like me. You’re used to walking down the street in your neighborhood and having people not just say hello, but actually stop and talk to you. Maybe Alex just needed to budget his time a little better to make sure he’d have time to catch up with his new friends.
Iowans tend to be such personable people because we’re some of the most open and honest folks you’ll ever meet. I’ve traveled the world and I can tell you, there’s no place besides Iowa where people will let you pump an entire tank of gas into your car and then amble inside to grab a cup of coffee and use the restroom before you have to pay.
Sometimes this turns out to be a real struggle when I’m out of town. I’ll have the pump nozzle already in my tank and I can’t figure out why I can’t get it to kick on. Suddenly, the light bulb goes off and I’m trudging into the gas station to stand in line. Then the tough questions start when I finally reach the counter.
Clerk: How much gas do you want?
Me: I have no idea, I want a full tank.
Because I don’t. For most of my life I’ve lived somewhere we trust people to pump their own gas (I’m looking at you New Jersey and Oregon) and then head into the store to pay for it. Sure, there’s a few bad apples here and there that drive off without paying, but that doesn’t really change anything. We still trust each other enough to do the right thing.
And most of us do. So if you’re reading this, and you’re an Iowan, be proud. I can tell you people know about us out there in the world. Sure, they think we all live on a farm and spend our time at the State Fair, but we’ve made an impact in the world.
If you’re reading this and you’re not an Iowan well, nobody’s perfect.
Contact David Dolmage at 641-792-3121 ext. 6532 or ddolmage@newtondailynews.com