Pedestrian Newsletter 11
A Midwest Fantasy, Parking Garages, and Shopping on eBay
Hello Pedestrian readers old and new!
A big welcome to those joining me for the first time. There are a lot more of you after last Friday’s interview in Substack’s What to Read series. Click here If you haven’t already had a chance to read it. As usual, I speak on growing up in Iowa, having trouble doing “one thing,” and of course, WALKING.
Hello, I’m Alex Wolfe and this is Pedestrian, a newsletter about walking and our everyday surroundings. This month, I’d like to thank Jackie, Lindsey, and Gia for their generous support, making this long overdue newsletter possible.
Speaking of growing up in Iowa, I am reflecting on ideas of home this month – taking us well outside the confines of New York City limits. Join me some 1,100 miles away across the Mississippi River, into the heartland of America, where we land in Des Moines, the capital city of Iowa – the place where I grew up.
Given the outlandishly special circumstances of 2020, you could say Des Moines has been on my mind more than ever. I haven’t returned in over 14 months, the longest I’ve been away since leaving 10 years ago. Any aspirations of planning a trip were soon thwarted by rapidly spreading COVID infections throughout the state of Iowa. And just as infection began to dwindle, it only seemed like New York City was skyrocketing towards a second wave. I concluded it was easier to stay put.
Things could be worse...much worse, but I can’t help it. A familiar yearning has arrived once again, just as the winter turns to spring, convincing me it’s time to head back for an extended rest, and perhaps, many, many long, overdue walks.
While anticipating my next visit, I daydream about all the parts of town I’d like to see while on these long walks. Eventually this leads to a bit of compulsive research, like keeping tabs on local news, learning about esoteric neighborhood histories, downloading maps of old trolley routes, and revisiting old haunts on Google Street View. However, the more I research, the more expansive my activities become.
A couple of weeks ago, I searched “Des Moines'' on eBay, which presented hundreds of postcards displaying images of various buildings and downtown views from long ago. eBay has always been a little too much fun, so it’s no surprise postcard browsing quickly became my favorite research activity. Wishes for home are temporarily satisfied as I move through an endless amount of listings, reminding me that I’m not missing out on anything back in Des Moines. Change has been the only constant fixture of the city over the last 100 years.
Des Moines, like most decently populated 20th century American cities, lost many of its residents in favor of the suburbs. As the city lost its tax base, abandoned buildings fell into a state of disrepair. Demolition was the only solution, or so the city thought, causing many of the most gorgeous and defining fixtures of Des Moines to disappear. These empty lots soon became state of the art parking garages and the rest was history.
The last few weeks of browsing have proven fruitful, but as a notorious browser, I rarely make purchases. Instead, I have resigned to keeping a folder on my desktop labelled “Des Moines,'' which holds the greatest treasures of my findings. This practice has typically kept me satisfied until I found a postcard listed by a seller in Smithville, Missouri. It was too good to pass up. So with the click of a mouse, I made a purchase. And in a matter of two days, I received an envelope that contained a meticulously packaged postcard that even the best of art handlers would admire.
On the back of the postcard is a panoramic view of downtown Des Moines circa 1975–1981. I know this because a 33-story Marriot Hotel, the third tallest building in all of Iowa, is missing from the skyline (built 1981) and the Ruan Center (built 1975) sticks out like a bisected John McCracken sculpture. The mighty Des Moines River calmly fills the middleground beneath a blue Midwestern sky. Just right of center stands the Statue of Liberty, in all of her glory, as her reflection shimmers in the water below. Flip the card over and it reads:
A MIDWEST FANTASY
As in the New York Harbor, so in Iowa, on the Des Moines River
The card continues with an excerpt from “The New Colossus”, the same poem sitting on a bronze plaque attached to the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty.
Believe it or not, a Statue of Liberty in Des Moines does exist, but it’s not the one sitting on the back of the card. In 1950, after a nationwide effort, the Boy Scouts of America placed 200 mint statues throughout the country to “strengthen the arm of liberty.'' One statue was delivered to Des Moines, where it still stands outside of the State Capitol.
Was this card trying to attract suburbanites back to the heart of a declining downtown? I wasn’t there to see it at the time (I wasn’t born), but my research concludes there wasn’t much going on downtown during the late 70’s and early 80’s, however, this card speaks otherwise. To the left of Lady Liberty it reads “Des Moines – The Surprising Place” as if to suggest downtown was back, and better than ever, with abundance akin to turn of the century New York City.
And perhaps Des Moines truly is a surprising place. I do look forward to visiting, but can’t see myself relocating permanently. Perhaps I’ll unexpectedly decide to pursue a career in transportation, insurance, or agriculture, but until then, New York is the place for me and where I chose to call home…even if I’ll never be accepted as its own. And for a moment, I felt suspended between two cities while contemplating that thought, until this card elicited unexpected feelings of resolve – and perhaps a proposal.
What if home can be found wherever one goes?
Maybe, just maybe, home is not only a place that physically exists, but also collections of memories, people, or associations within a certain time and place. In that sense, home can be anywhere. The cities, towns, and spaces we choose to call “home” only act as a vessel for these things to emerge. Des Moines will move on without me, but it will forever present itself in the life I’ve built here in New York. I still insist soda is “pop,” can’t help but hold a door open for someone, and eat my pork chops with applesauce and cottage cheese ‘cause these are just the ways I feel a little bit more like I’m in Des Moines again. And in those moments, I am.
I don’t know how long I’ll stay in New York City, given that I ever leave. In 2029 I will have spent more time living away from Des Moines than I ever did living there. And while it makes me sad to think of losing ties to Des Moines over time, it only makes me yearn to visit more or find better ways to bring a little Des Moines to the Big Apple. And I’ll continue to do it, just as the postcard brought a little New York City to Des Moines, even if it is my own Midwest fantasy.
Thanks for reading,
Alex
Brooklyn, NY
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Pedestrian tells stories about the people, routines, and connections we make as a result of moving throughout one’s everyday surroundings.
I just subscribed to this news letter and I'm already loving it! As someone who has "been forced" back to their hometown because of the pandemic I have spent the months back home relearning the areas around me. I never felt a strong connection to my home town and once I left for college it took that distance to make me yearn. I loved how you raised the question of home not being a singular place but an extraction of ones self. This was a beautiful piece and I cannot wait to read more!