I often find it hard to relate to people who live in cities. Many will joke that Iowa is full of nothing, and you'd think we might want to counter these uncharitable accusations about our glorius state; well, unfortunately, I have to agree with the accusations. As an Iowan, there truly is nothing - yes, even in Des Moines.

Now, I do have to admit, its easy for me to say that. The "town" (see: village) I live in houses less than 200 people in total. It is enclosed by nothing but a sprawl of corn and soybean fields. People who live here tend to be quite old, which makes sense - anyone who hasn't planted their roots down here for the past 50 years has enough sense to leave and find something with more promise. We are at least 15 minutes away from any modern conveniences: gas stations, Dollar General, schools, et cetera.

Anymore, the only thing left to breathe life into the town is the elevator. As much as I'd like for it to be a huge system of shaft-operated transportation, its primary purpose is to store grain. Here, the predominant product is corn, which is turned into all sorts of things: ethanol, cereal, corn syrup, animal feed, etc. This is vastly different from the corn that tastes good, which is generally not cultivated on as large of a scale. Grain elevators are generally owned by cooperatives, which draw in swaths of farmers near harvest season, effectively keeping little hamlets like mine alive despite the lack of anything else.

Looking forward into the future, I do wonder whether little towns like mine will be able to stay afloat in the coming decades. Although I don't relish the thought, a bulk of the population is bound to pass away. With their passing also goes the local farming community, which is being increasingly bought out by corporations looking to use their land industrially anyways. Although some do pass down the trade to their diehard FFA boys, it's largely a dying art.

In a way, I can already see the town declining. Buildings and houses lie vacant and dilapidated. Riding down Main Street gives you a peek into what the town was like at its prime; gas pumps, likely installed in 1940, remain intact but unused, rusty, and beat up. Worn out signs give some slight indication as to what some buildings used to be, but many are unclear to most but those who remember them when they were still being used. In my opinion, driving past the old school is the most harrowing of them all. It hasn't necessarily been that long since it merged with another district - my dad graduated from there in a class of 6 (IIRC) - but it's still so starnge thinking about the things in there which have been untouched in years, things which used to be significant that have now been completely forgotten. Apparently their basketball team was one of the best in the state during the 80s, but I have to wonder, at the cost of sounding a bit cynical: what does it matter anymore? Their home turf has been overrun with raccoons.

Even though this town's emptiness often infuriates and irks me, I think I'll always have a certain affinity for the simple, quiet life that it brings me. It may not be something I'll ever be able to return to once I leave.