How was your Saturday?
Storm Lake, Iowa - June 14, 2025
8:28 am
It was 66 degrees when I ran errands. As I drove along the shore of Storm Lake, the water was uncharacteristically smooth in this shallow lake. The boats at this hour seemed frozen in place, and a shimmering haze rose off the water. It was going to be a hot day.
Near the college, a trio of women ran the Lake Trail in lockstep. Two men followed. I realized then that they wore numbers on their shirts. This was no Saturday morning running club.
It’s not unusual to see runners along this route, and occasionally there are organized events like the Star-Spangled Ride-Run held on the Fourth of July every year. Today, these hardy folks, all sizes and ages, ran to support The Bridge of Storm Lake, a faith-based organization that provides programming for area youth.
God bless all runners. My narrow frame suggests that I might have been a runner, but no. This body has too many biomechanical issues to pound the pavement. I’ve tried, but some “part” always breaks down. I’ll walk for miles, just don’t make me run.
10:07 am
I rode my Dutch bike to the season’s first Farmers’ Market. Vendors were set up in a parking lot just east of Valentina’s Meat Market. I bought some honey from my friend, Beth Winterhof, happy to support her business, Ms B Haven. Her hubby, Russ, was on hand to chat up customers. At another stall, I bought a bunch of cilantro big enough to supply a small town.
I’ve been to Farmers’ Markets in towns big and small and in several states. Besides the yummy baked goods and fresh produce, my consistent take-away is admiration. These folks bust their humps, making or growing, packing, hauling, setting up, sweating in the heat. I appreciate how much work it takes to supply local goods to the public.
Long ago, even little towns like my hometown had creameries and meat lockers and bakeries and shoe repair shops to provide local goods and services. Storm Lake is lucky it still has a bakery (actually, now two!) and a new meat locker in town.
I still miss Mike Rust at Rust’s Western Wear. He resuscitated many pairs of my shoes, in addition to those of a friend in Orange City and my daughter in Cedar Rapids. These human services help make a place livable.
You don’t believe me? The writer Donna Leon lived in Venice, Italy, for years. She endured the hordes of tourists, the heat, the worsening floods in that dying city. Only 50,000 people live there as their permanent residence. The real people, the workers and small shop owners, no longer reside there.
In 2012, Leon lamented the demise of a shoe repair shop or the lack of a place to buy buttons or zippers. These everyday shops were replaced by high-end brand stores: Dolce & Gabbana or Prada. It became clear that Venice was catering ever more to tourists and not to its residents. Three years later, she moved to Switzerland.
No shop owner can live on shoe repair alone, of course, but Leon’s story resonated with me, because I know that story. My parents’ hardware store in Hospers, Iowa, would sell you a couple of screws or a few nuts and bolts. While there, that customer might pick up some new fishing lures or browse the latest refrigerators. They might come in later with their wife and buy a new major appliance.
This local thing is important and becoming ever more rare.
1:10 pm
Lakeshore Avenue was lined with a lot of people for the No Kings protest. Even though a lot of my friends were out of town on Father’s Day weekend, someone estimated that over 200 people showed. Young and old were sweating it out peacefully.
State Representative J. D. Scholten spoke briefly and pressed the flesh up and down the line of protesters, but he had to get back to Sioux City to pitch the second game in the Explorers vs the Lincoln Saltdogs double-header later in the day. The X’s won.
Trees along the Lake Trail allowed some of us to get a break from the beating sun, but I wondered how Police Chief Chris Cole was faring in his dark uniform. He’s made of tougher stuff than I am. Two bottles of water and a small Gatorade provided by the Ashley and Dylan WolfTornabane family weren’t enough to ward off effects of the heat.
It was a great turnout and a good showing of solidarity, not unlike the runners supporting The Bridge, and folks supporting the Farmers’ Market or any hometown business. Deep down, we want connection.
I’ve been thinking a lot about resistance since last November, and attending a protest in a small town is not what I’d call a big act of resistance, but it helped to shift focus from a certain military parade that turned out to have been poorly executed and sparsely attended.
Thank you Joan! I grew up in a small town in Illinois, where most of these old shops and knowledgeable humans running them are largely - - gone. I am fortunate to have an old time feed and seed store nearby, and one place that can still fix shoes and boots, but not for too much longer. Lots of "ustacoulds" in many small towns in American now. Thanks again for your story of connections.