Column #2: Back In Town

If you ever want to view things in a totally different, life-altering kind of way, I recommend moving to Minnesota for two years. One of two things will happen if you do this: either you’ll discover the joys of hot dish, bars and hockey and you’ll never leave, or the climate will drive you back south, and during the slow process of thawing your brain and acclimating to warmer weather, you’ll discover that everything looks completely different.

At least- that’s what happened to me. Roughly two and a half years ago, I moved away from Iowa City firm in my belief that I couldn’t get away from the place fast enough. Now, two and a half years later, I find myself driving down familiar streets, past familiar sights- things that should be so familiar it should inspire nausea- yet, everything looks and feels new- and I like that. It makes coming back to your hometown feel like moving to a whole new city.

My life feels like a Thin Lizzy song. The lines and contours of every building seem sharper- the weather is certainly warmer- not tropical by any stretch of the imagination, but there’s a palpable difference between the mild hills of Eastern Iowa and the flat openness of Southern Minnesota.

In the week and a half since I’ve moved back, I’ve seen more Subarus on the streets that I have in the past three years. They’re everywhere in Iowa City- either because of the aging children of Aquarius that settled here in Iowa City and never left or because the rumors are really true- lesbians do drive more Subarus- but even I refuse to believe that there are that many lesbians in Iowa City. (Interestingly enough, the whole ‘lesbians and Subarus’ thing isn’t just a tiresome old stereotype- Subaru has been remarkably laudable in its outreach and targeting of LGBT consumers.)

I’ve seen the inside of a Moffat home, and liked what I saw: Moffat was a prominent Iowa City builder back in the late 40s, who littered the east side of town with little cottages and bungalows. They’re small, distinctive and each seems to have their own unique personality.

I took my parents to the Foxhead (one of Iowa City’s best bars- certainly a place where one can enjoy a great beer free of loud, thumping bass lines, sweat and college students dancing.) They were impressed, the beer was good and despite the smoking ban, decades of cigarette smoke still lingered in the air. And I hope that it never fully goes away.

The Coralville Strip seems twice as long as it used to be. Especially when you’re running late to work at your hourly starter job at the obscenely large Wal-Mart Supercenter that’s as far away from anything as it’s possible to be in this town. But there’s a Sonic now. And tater-tots have never tasted so good.

Jefferson Street still looks strange, two years after the tornado tore through Iowa City. Denuded of trees, every time I drive down it, it feels like something’s just a little off- something I can’t quite place my finger on.

Slowly but sure, the areas that were left devastated by the floods of this past summer are re-emerging. Open doors and open business- signs of life everywhere amidst the cold. With the New Year, a new job, a new place to live and new possibilities springing up everywhere, it’s safe to say that a new chapter has begun. What it’ll bring, has yet to be determined- but it’s exciting.

I’m back in town- and it’s never looked better.