Lessons from Iowa

And what is an actual challenge?

Well, Anisa got her first cold. Which means we all smell like Vick’s Vapo-Rub – which seems to work even if the baby version doesn’t sear your eyeballs like the industrial strength I grew up with. But there is no lack of baby snot in the house. Which has been a challenge.

More on that later.

Where are the heroes?

The fun part about writing a book is that you never know where a rabbit hole will take you.

For Crossing Borders, my exploration of Iowa took me to Ed Bradley’s 1975 on the ground reporting for CBS News of the fall of Saigon. In 1978, Bradley returned to the region and traveled to the South China Sea to tell the story of the boat people – Laotian refugees stranded on islands, hoping to make it to the US.

Governor Robert Ray (R-Iowa) after watching Bradley’s reporting one January evening, turned to his aide, Kenneth Quinn, and told him, “We could either turn our backs or extend a hand of life to these people desperately seeking to live in freedom.” Due to Governor Ray’s relentless advocacy, the US opened its doors to Vietnamese refugees and Iowa was one of the most generous recipients of the Tai Dam.

Last week, I noticed my friend Robert Leonard of Iowa’s KRLS radio posted, “This is a great immigration story that contemporary Republicans will hate. It starts with an Iowa Republican Governor, Robert Ray, and his humanitarian efforts to bring the ‘boat people’ to Iowa.”

Turns out Jasmine Vong, a daughter of Tai Dam refugees, was marrying Jeffrey Newland, grandson of Governor Robert Ray. The Des Moines Register’s Jay Stahl tells the story:    

In the mid 2010s, Vong was driving down a Des Moines street with her mom, Pastor Somkong "Kong" Vong.

"In that moment, I had shared, 'I am talking with this guy Jeff. We're just hanging out,' and I think she knew. She asked me, 'Do you know who Jeff's grandfather is?' and I kind of looked confused and I was like, 'No I don't,' and she told me the story of how Gov. Ray brought the Tai Dam people to Des Moines, Iowa," Vong said.

You know, a similar story will be told by the children of immigrants currently at our southern border. But there won’t be a political hero for them to point to like Governor Ray.

Lone swans

One of my favorite Curb Your Enthusiasm episodes is “The Black Swan” where Larry David not only causes the death of a country club member, but also kills the club’s mascot – a black swan.

For Larry, this is just another week. But, for most people, killing a black swan is a black swan event: “An occurrence or phenomenon that comes as a surprise because it was not predicted or was hard to predict.”

Which takes me to something Herbert P. Kitschelt, a political scientist at Duke, wrote to New York Times columnist Thomas Edsall. The US, Kitschelt said, “has experienced a ‘black swan’ confluence, interaction and mutual reinforcement of general factors that affect all advanced knowledge societies with specific historical and institutional factors unique to the U.S. that have created a poisonous concoction threatening U.S. democracy more so than that of any other Western society. Taken together, these conditions have created the scenario in which affective polarization thrives.”

Kitschelt was talking about how race, class and religion have combined to create a level of toxicity within the country that has come to define our politics. Now I don’t disagree that these factors are driving all of us to our corners. But this is not a black swan event.

Both sides – yes, both sides – have used race, class and religion to polarize the electorate. It has been the political strategy of our time. And it has gotten to the point, as I wrote a few weeks back, “Our politics are defined by a stacking of our racial, religious, sexual, geographic and cultural identities.” So that, “Political forces exploit our stacked identities – and the fears that come with them – so our partisanship becomes our social norm.”

We can continue down this path. Policy wins on either side will be dramatic, but unsustainable. So, what will it take to break the fever?

Which brings me back to Iowa.

Last Fall I was randomly invited to a gathering in Phoenix of people way smarter than me. (Which is also every gathering I am invited to. But you know that.) In the middle of the desert, well a resort in the desert, I met Rob Sand, the lone statewide elected Democrat (state auditor) in Iowa.

Rob, according to The Atlantic’s Elaine Godfrey, “Wears camo and seed-company hats. He goes to church every Sunday. He went out of his way to appoint a Republican, a Democrat, and an independent to serve on his leadership team in the auditor’s office.”

A bit later in the year, over the course of his re-election fight, I noticed his great campaign ad spoofing The Office. He went on to win a nail-biter with 50.8% of the vote. Within months, the Republican supermajority in the Iowa state legislature came for Rob as they passed legislation, in essence, handcuffing the state auditor. the Washington Post’s Amy Wang reported in April:

The bill would prohibit the state auditor from accessing a wide variety of records like individual income tax returns, law enforcement agencies’ criminal files, student records, hospital records and peace officers’ investigative reports — unless it is to comply with “state or federal regulation, or in the case of alleged or suspected embezzlement or theft.” An agency could still dispute that information requested by the state auditor is necessary for the purposes of an audit.

At a press conference after the bill passed, Rob responded, “If you let a state agency decide what the auditor’s office can look at, how often are they going to let [the auditor] find waste, fraud and abuse?”

The best part is that in the aftermath of the legislation, Rob has been doing politics the way politics need to be done. Whether it is Iowa or anywhere else.

Godfrey followed Sand to Treynor, population 1,032, for, “What was billed as a bipartisan fundraising event; most attendees were Republicans, and Sand was one of three Democrats invited to speak.”

At the event, Shawnna Silvius, the mayor of nearby Red Oak told Rob, “’You’ve really been going through it out there. You’re like a lone swan.’”

How many lone swans does it take to make a crowd?

Challenges

Later this week, I turn 50. But let’s talk about that on the other side of 50. No need to be any older than necessary.

The reason I bring up my age is that, by now, you’d think I knew how to handle an interview. Especially for a high-falootin’-people-of-a-certain-influence fellowship. Instead, I think I answered myself out of contention by getting rather Cranky Dad. 

Let’s talk about it.

It was one of those interviews about personal inflection points, vulnerability and spirit. Talking about myself, which, as some of you know, immediately puts me into Cranky mode.

(Let’s set aside the fact I’ve launched an entire Substack seemingly dedicated to me talking about myself.)

After responding to the first couple questions with bad jokes – my standard deflection – I buckled down and tried to give thoughtful, emotionally balanced, answers. I was Kendall Roy, thinking I had lined up the board votes. Then I was asked something along the lines of, “Tell me about overcoming a challenge…”

In a rather un-high-falootin’-people-of-a-certain-influence fellowship kind of way, I went Cranky Dad and said, “You know, I don’t like that question.”

I still feel bad. Not for dismissing the question. But for doing a terrible job explaining why.

See, I used to answer the “your challenges” question by pretending some work issue was keeping me from saving the world. Usually, the seemingly existential crisis of overcoming strategic obstacles worked. This time around, I said, “You know, I haven’t faced any real challenges. Yes, some bullshit work stuff. But those aren’t challenges. They are problems that are solved. Or dilemmas you manage.”

Which I should have explained as follows…

Too often, I forget how fortunate I am. My parents worked incredibly hard, sacrificed so much, to make sure I had the opportunity to be successful. As a result, I have almost always been able to get work that I truly enjoy, that I find real purpose in. And, along the way, I have been so stupidly lucky to have a wonderful family.

Unlike too many of my friends, I have not faced cancer (much less defeated it), unexpectedly lost a loved one (although I think about my Dad every day since he passed a year ago), been miserable and panicked in or out of the workforce. The list is far too long of real-life challenges that people I truly respect have dealt with – and overcome. None of which, I believe I have faced. So far.

Maybe my dismissiveness was my impostor syndrome. Maybe it was just me pretending to keep it real. Perhaps it was me channeling Roebuck Wright in The French Dispatch when he said, “Self-reflection is a vice best conducted in private or not at all.”

Either way, the question from the high-falootin’-fellowship-for-people-of-a-certain-influence should have been, “What are you going to do with your good fortune, whether achieved via challenge or privilege?”

Or, “What have you learned by watching other people face – and overcome – the challenges they faced?” 

Which are the questions I want to answer for Anisa.

I want to tell Anisa about the heroic sacrifices of Toya’s parents and mine. How each of their children are exceptional parents and human beings (the jury being out on present company). How their watchful eyes and intense determination will mean so much for the generations of Gavin’s and Noorani’s to come.

I want to share with Anisa the friendships we have developed over the years. How people from across the country, around the world, of the greatest difference, have faced real challenges and enriched our lives. Which means, yes, we are going to Iowa.

In a desperate attempt to explain myself, I told the interviewer, “I’m not saying I am better than anyone.” Which was my mistake. Not because I am better than anyone. Rather, that I do a terrible job of acknowledging how and why my life is better because of my parents – and the responsibility I feel as a result.

Because, these days, the only life or death challenge I face is staying alive after suctioning Anisa’s snot out of her nose. Because the other night, during the 1:30 AM feeding and suctioning, Anisa was terribly grateful.

After I successfully extracted said snot, Anisa took a deep breath of relief. She looked up, watching me gasp for air, and asked with her eyes, “Are you going to make it, Dad?”

I should really hit that Peloton more often.

What I’m Cooking

Baby Girl and I did our Memorial Day BBQ pretty well. Salmon, roasted potatoes, corn and snap peas salad. All on the grill.