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Des Moines: Hell Yes*
Why Des Moines is better than wherever the hell you’re from.

By Kelsey Johnson

 
The other day I was riding my bike up a hill when a man stopped mid-task to cheer me on. I was working hard, and he could tell. You know when the resistance is so high that you’re basically riding in slow motion, where each rotation feels like you’re churning a meat grinder? Well, that was how I felt at that moment — right before he turned around to yell a few words of encouragement. That’s right, not to cat-call and harass the struggling 20-something, but to say, “Keep going, I believe in you!”

As I heaved and hauled myself to the top — very slowly, I might add — I kept his reassuring voice in mind. And when I reached the summit I thrust my fist in the air as a sign of victory, of solidarity. I did it for him.

As a Chicago native, I relocated to Des Moines, Iowa, four years ago for college, completely unenthused about my new home. “Iowa, how lame,” I thought to myself before arriving. By the end of my first year I had myself convinced, “There is no way I’m staying here after I graduate. I’m getting the Hell out of Iowa. I’m going to move somewhere cool.”

Little did I know I was already home.

I came to school in Iowa primarily to pursue a degree in English literature. I was a book snob, a movie snob, a hiking and nature lover, an atheist, liberal city kid who valued artistic merit and intellectual capacity over friendliness and simple values. My best friends from high school had moved to Washington and California, and I would surely follow suit. Iowa wasn’t for me.

Sure, Iowans had some logistical stuff going for them. The cost of living is cheap (almost 10 percent below the national average), there is an Apple Store within driving distance, and Des Moines is continually voted the best place in the country for businesses and careers. The “TODAY” show even wrote a story this year titled, “Des Moines, where regular folks can live the rich life.” Blah blah blah, you get the gist. But I wasn’t about to be swayed by corporate rankings. I was a writer. I needed to be surrounded by great arts, interesting people, social activism and innovation. And I was sure as hell not some “regular folk.”

But that’s not to say I lamented my Midwestern roots entirely. I maintained some pride in my home region, after all. I started off weakly defending the Midwest, specifically Iowa, to high school friends who moved out to the coast. “It’s not that bad,” I spouted between their stories about excursions to natural parks, weekend trips snowboarding in the Rockies and small venue concerts with our favorite bands. But the more I said it, the more I believed it. The longer I lived in Iowa, the more it, well, started to grow on me.

I found there was something to be said for living in a place that didn’t think it was the center of the universe. Where people valued humility and sincerity. Where the lady in the front of the line insists you go ahead because you only have two things and look like you just came from a long day of work. Where people stop chores to cheer you on, just because they wanted to see you make it to the top of the hill.

After my junior year, I stayed in Des Moines for the summer, working for Buy Fresh Buy Local. I worked with, who else, Midwestern farmers. How stereotypically Iowan, right? But they weren’t simple, nor were they narrow-minded. They were innovative, modern and, most importantly, genuine.

It was then I realized that maybe just being genuine was enough.

What I came to love most about Des Moines was its spirit and personality. I love how I don’t need a reservation to have a fancy meal on a Saturday night. I love having access to the second-largest farmers market in the country. I love that market’s free bike valet. I love 80/35 — a music festival with a number of free stages. I love the small community of artists and thinkers, where running into someone at the bar isn’t so out of the ordinary. I love that we have one of the best arts festivals in the country that features young local artists and music. I love that parking is free — literally everywhere — after 6 p.m. and on weekends. Because Des Moines cares about me as a resident. It has a refreshing, down-to-Earth quality that characterizes what the whole Midwest feels like to me. And I think that’s pretty cool.

So I’ve stopped apologizing for Iowa. I’ve given up assigning worth based on the number of Broadway stars and yacht parties located within a 50-mile radius. Instead, I’ve taken it upon myself to act as an advocate, to say that I don’t just tolerate living in the Midwest, but I love it. There’s something refreshing about living in a place where the chances of a random stranger feeling a vested interest in your well-being are pretty dang high. Something about the earnestness of your neighbors that makes up for contrived performances of “cool.” Plus as it turns out, corn is pretty dang delicious.

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Image modified from photo by Wikimedia Commons

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