Highlandville, Iowa

Last Friday, March 26th, I drove to Iowa again. A niece will be getting married in mid April, and I agreed to assist with a bridal shower that my wife, Pat, and my sister in law, Jean, were hosting at Jean's home. Jean and her husband have a farm outside of Decorah on Big Canoe Road. I was determined to stay in the background, helping with set up, some cooking and being available as needed. As an artist, all of the decisions having to do with every aspect of my creative work and business come from within. No one tells me what to do. It is a breath of fresh air to sometimes do what others ask. While setting up for the shower on Saturday morning, we realized that we needed ice for beverages. I got into my van and drove three miles to the Highlandville General Store. I had not been in Highlandville for over thirty years. It is a place that was pivotal in my becoming an artist. I had been to this tiny town many times during the summer of 1973. I arrived at this small store, which is on the banks of South Bear Creek. I walked up and down the aisles, experiencing strong feelings of deja vu. Getting the bags of ice out of the freezer, I walked to the check out. A man standing by the door asked me if I was coming or going. I wasn't sure how to reply to that. He told me that he was a writer from Omaha working on a magazine article on fly fishing in Highlandville and South Bear Creek. He thought I was a fisherman. I told him that the town's old hospital building had in one incarnation been an art school owned by a Luther College art professor, and that I had attended that school during the summer of '73.

The school at Highlandville was important because it was an environment where I was able to work on artwork under an instructor's guidance in day long classes over the course of several weeks during the summer. The hospital, which was a large, green house, was used as a dormitory, with the drawing and painting studio being in the attic. A pottery was in the barn out in the yard. We did life drawings in this cooled by a box fan attic every day, mornings and afternoons, as well as working outdoors on location. I did not live in the hospital dormitory but rented an old farmhouse with two friends for $75 a month. I also had employment unloading semi trailers in Decorah. I worked at this from midnight until about 4AM. Finishing work, I would go to the all night grocery store and get something to eat. I would drive out to Highlandville and sleep in the front seat of my car, an old Rambler. Someone would come out of the school in the morning and wake me up, and class would begin when I got there. After the intensive day long session, I would drive to the rented farm house, about ten miles away and sleep again until it was time to return to my night time job. These were things that flooded my mind during my short trip to Highlandville.

Back at the bridal shower, it was determined that we needed half and half for coffee. I was asked to make another trip to Highlandville and the store. Looking out in the farmyard, I pointed out the fact that there were about forty cows milling about...and you want me to drive to the store? Again, I had memories, this time of being a child at my uncle Ralph's farm outside of my home town of Hibbing, Minnesota where he would set me down on a stool beside one of his 25 cows, all named after important women from antiquity, and instruct me in the proper technique of milking a cow. Wisely, it was decided that I make another trip to Highlandville and the general store.