Pigs and corn. That’s what I think of when I think about Iowa. Over the years I’ve driven back and forth between the east and west coasts several times. When I was young, my family headed west to find the beauty that we lacked back home: snow-capped mountains, abundant wildlife, red-rock canyons. But first, we had to slog through Midwestern states like Iowa where – no offense to any Iowans out there – we saw little along the Interstate but pigs and corn.
Yes, I recall stopping once in West Branch to see Herbert Hoover’s grave. And I still have memories of a lunch break at a Subway restaurant in Davenport. But no, sorry, beyond this – not so much.