Donald Trump speaks at an Ohio rally on March 16. Screenshot from C-SPAN video

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register and the Substack newsletter Showing Up, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

“Words matter.” It’s a simple message, one I’ve cited before, short enough to be printed on a lapel button. I know this, thinking back a dozen years, to when I worked for the National Council of Churches (NCC), a national Christian organization. There were indeed buttons circulating around NCC offices with these two words on display. 

The “words matter” message was in support of more inclusive, less male dominant language… in church documents, in congregations, in outreach conversations, and most certainly, in our thinking. Memories of this button surfaced after reading reports and seeing video clips of the former president speaking at an Ohio rally prior to that state’s primary. One word he used that day was “bloodbath” (the New York Times spells it as two words). It’s an unusually powerful term—like massacre, genocide, holocaust—meaning usage requires considerable care and caution.

Photo by Julie Gammack of an Iowa Democratic caucus on the south side of Des Moines, January 15, 2024. Published with permission.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register and the Substack newsletter Showing Up, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

The Facebook message came in late Monday morning. “Just wondering if you are going to your caucus tonight. I’m worried that there will only be a few people there. Nobody seems interested this year in the Dem caucus.”

My friend, who lives 200 miles distant, began this exchange by noting a recent column I had written. I respond, “Yes, you bet I’m going. Sometimes we send important messages simply by showing up, which is why I named my column such.” 

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register and the Substack newsletter Showing Up, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

Local news coverage is going through significant birth pangs. I’ve intended to write about this topic for some time now, but every time I start, I come across something newsworthy that merits incorporation into my thinking—and into my column. So, this ramble comes with a disclaimer: “This emerging story will be updated as information becomes available.”

The term “birth pangs” indicates my view—more than just a hope—that something new indeed is being born, although from my perch, it’s not yet clear what the “new-new thing” will be. A dozen or more examples are likely to be birthed, multiple workable models. It’s also fair to note that a birth-pangs approach is vastly preferable to a death-throes approach, a term that may well apply to more moribund local news providers.

Boston Tea Party, vintage engraved illustration. Contributed by Morphart Creation to Shutterstock

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register and the Substack newsletter Showing Up, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

I’ve never been a big tea drinker, preferring coffee, several mugs daily. I will modify my beverage choice, however, on one day in mid-December to celebrate an anniversary. December 16, 2023, marks 250 years since the Boston Tea Party, a milepost in our nation’s march toward independence.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register and the Substack newsletter Showing Up, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

In the spring of 1972, Dad brought a college scholarship application home from work, funds made available through his Hormel union, then the “Amalgamated Meat Cutters & Butcher Workmen of North America,” now the less muscular sounding “United Food & Commercial Workers.” Applicants were required to take a proctored test about the history of the U.S. labor movement. Highest scores would be rewarded at several levels: $1,000 for first, maybe two at $500, probably several at $250.

Instructions included reading a particular book, something like “Mileposts in Labor History.” So, I’ll read the book, take the test, and win the money, ha. As I recall, I had a few days to make this happen, and eagerly swung by the high school library. Not surprisingly, the book was not part of the collection, nor was it in the town library. I did find several relevant volumes, however, one with more photos than narrative (Eugene V. Debs displaying anguish), a Samuel Gompers biography, and a history book with a Haymarket Square chapter.  

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register and the Substack newsletter Showing Up, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

Beginning in 1965, the nation tuned into a new television series, “Get Smart,” featuring a bumbling secret agent—Maxwell Smart‚and his misadventures. The program introduced this pre-teen to a new word: KAOS, the name of an international organization of evil. Agent Smart worked for CONTROL, the good guys, confronted weekly by KAOS, both organizational names in capital letters. According to script writers, the name KAOS was chosen because it’s a synonym for evil… and the opposite of chaos is control.

I thought about those bungling Get Smart characters last week when one word kept pulsing out of our nation’s capital. Chaos (same concept, different spelling). Here’s what I mean.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register and the Substack newsletter Showing Up, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

The financial services company “Bankrate” recently named Iowa the best state to retire in. I admit to being a bit surprised. The company scored 50 states on five metrics: affordability (40 percent), health care cost and quality (20 percent), a vague category entitled “community wellbeing” (25 percent), weather (10 percent), and crime rate (5 percent). Iowa dislodged Florida from last year’s highest ranking; Florida fell to #8.

Rounding out the top five are Delaware, West Virginia, Missouri, and Mississippi. Without intending to sound harsh, these states don’t strike me as being exactly heaven on earth. But then, I guess we all can make our own assessment of what constitutes the good life. Mine is below.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.

Robert Kennedy, June 1966

The waters of our civil society are a bit choppy right now. Why? It’s undoubtedly a blend of currents of varying strengths, crossing at various points. The result: social tension, a sense of heightened anxiety, probably the birth pangs of significant societal change, which seems almost inevitable.

I’m looking today at the results of a recent poll commissioned by the Wall Street Journal and the National Opinion Research Center.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

I don’t know when I first encountered the word “graffiti.” It probably happened in high school. I vaguely recall a late-night adventure that included spray painting “class of ‘72” on a few country bridges… and maybe on the rear window of a school bus. Upon reflection, I think our gang of (mostly) benign rascals was simply ahead of our time. Graffiti was not a major public nuisance at the time.

Then, too, maybe our semi-legible scribbling was an early example of graffiti art, arguably the only visual art form with its origin in the U.S. Since graffiti art is too broad a subject to tackle here, I will concentrate more narrowly on freight graffiti, defined as expressive painting on train boxcars.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

It’s human nature to regard your home community as special, distinctive, or unique in one way or another. I’ve always seen my rural community in this light, although some claims to fame are rather small.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

By the time you read this, Native American Heritage Month will be almost over. I admit I missed most of it again this year, too. I wouldn’t have known except for seeing a banner on the Washington Post website, calling special attention to Native American articles during November.

Why is there so little education in the U.S. about Native Americans? Possible causes include ignorance, oversight, pedagogy obstacles, and fear. Undoubtedly, it’s a blend.

News under the Native American heading often relates to changing offensive school mascots and team names, decisions usually prompting considerable controversy. Still, the name changes are a significant step in the right direction. Meanwhile, politicization of this issue underscores the need for education while simultaneously foreshadowing challenges facing advocates of a more inclusive curriculum.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

Some people live in town and have a second home on a lake or in the country. For almost two decades, we’ve reversed these items. Our primary residence is in rural North Iowa – in the country – with a turnkey town home in the greater Minneapolis area. There, for the last ten weeks, we’ve provided “supporter housing” for a political campaign worker in the Twin Cities.

Accommodating this short-term boarder was not demanding duty. We’re often not there, more true recently as delayed travel plans were rescheduled for earlier this fall. Furthermore, providing temporary housing is consistent with a vague “transition strategy” as we seek different ways to support causes we believe in.

Let me explain how this relates to politics.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

Hang in there, it won’t last much longer. This election cycle is winding down, although a new season will begin even before we fully understand what took place this go-‘round. With politics top of mind, I drove to Charles City last week to meet with someone about whom I’d heard positive reports.

This someone is Dené Lundberg, her first name rhyming with “Renee.” Dené seeks to represent House District 58 in the Iowa legislature.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

Who doesn’t love butterflies, especially monarch butterflies?

Let me share several verbal bouquets I encountered in reading articles about monarchs. “Showy looks.” “Extraordinary migration.” “One of the natural world’s wonders,” and, “one of the continent’s most beloved insects.” Unfortunately, I also came across some very troubling terms, like “endangered,” “vulnerable populations,” “declining precipitously” and “teeter(ing) on the edge of collapse.” Suffice to say, it all captured my attention.

Monarchs have been in the news a great deal lately. Appropriately so.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

I led a life-long learning class at North Iowa Area Community College in Mason City this month. My subject: “Midwestern History as Told by Midwestern Authors,” a topic I selected last fall, when pandemic-limited plans prompted me to read (or re-read) various regional writers.

My premise has always been that history is much more than just key dates and major events. We benefit from knowing how previous generations lived, what they valued, and how they engaged in society. Greater understanding gives us a more enlightened perspective while strengthening our community ties. This doesn’t generally come about by reading history tomes – since most of us won’t – but rather by reading authors who set their fictional or autobiographical works in the Midwest.

In preparation, I stumbled upon a story that ran in the New York Times last December, although I missed it at the time. It involves North Iowa’s own Meredith Willson.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

I’m primarily of Nordic ancestry, somewhere between 62 and 83 percent. Let’s say, approximately three-quarters. Despite my Germanic name, my family tree is rooted in Norway, as is my wife Paula’s. Mindful of this heritage, Paula and I traveled to Norway with my parents in 1998, to visit locations from which our ancestors departed almost 150 years earlier to begin their new lives in the U.S.

One community we sought out was Grue, population 5,000. As we entered town, in the best Norwegian tradition, we made for a local coffee shop. The waitress asked if our visit was linked to the Grue Church fire.

Not really. But wait, what Grue church fire? (Clearly, we had not done our homework.) No, we were there mostly to gaze upon tombstones of distant relatives. But tell us a bit about this fire…

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

If you’re confused about myriad rankings that evaluate public education in Iowa, join the club. I note that Iowa did not fare well in a recent U.S. News & World Report ranking of best high schools—number 48 of 51. But it’s always possible, due partially to the proliferation of rating approaches, to find results where Iowa fares somewhat better.

Wow, 48^th! We somehow managed to edge out Nebraska and Oklahoma (Maine, too, since apparently they didn’t grant permission to use Advanced Placement data in their evaluation). Now, we shouldn’t get blown too far off course by one poor ranking, although it’s worth noting, U.S. News & World Report now markets themselves as “the global authority in education rankings.”

Editor’s note: This column contains discussion of sexual abuse.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

Two decades ago, I became dimly aware of the poet Richard Eberhart. Not because of anything he had written or done recently to breach my knowledge gap. Rather, because he was from Austin (Minnesota), as was Dad’s family. Despite his minimal interest in poetry, it was Dad who first brought Eberhart to my attention, logical in light of their shared Austin background.

My curiosity piqued, I began investigating. “Who’s this famous poet… from AUSTIN?”

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

A product with deep Iowa connections recently reached the century mark: the ice cream treat now known as “Edy’s Pie”, which, until a year ago, was called Eskimo Pie.

An outgrowth of the George Floyd tragedy has been increased awareness of racial stereotypes that have existed for decades. Eskimo Pie’s owner sought to abandon a word considered derogatory by its association with non-Native colonizers who settled in the Arctic and used the term. Although some changes, like this one, happened recently, others have been under consideration for many years.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

This column is being written shortly before President Joe Biden delivers his first State of the Union address, probably among the most important speeches of his presidency. Undoubtedly, there’s been considerable input gathered in preparation for his March 1 address. Presumably, some ideas in early drafts will be jettisoned, yielding precious time so the president can explain and interpret events in Ukraine.

Anticipating Tuesday’s speech, I reflected on other important presidential addresses in recent years. As a potential point of inflection, my mind wandered to Jimmy Carter and what is generally referred to as his malaise speech, July 15, 1979. President Carter sought to jolt our country from a foggy feeling of hopelessness. National confidence had diminished, replaced by a vague sense the American epoch was over. Carter delivered an introspective address, striving to change our energy future through decreased dependence on foreign oil and collective sacrifice.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

“Instructors demonstrated how to stand, move, and approach an attacker, as well as fight or defend themselves with their hands, elbows, palms, knees, feet, and shins. Some techniques are standard, like a punch to the face. Others are new, like raking an attacker’s face with your nails.”

Those sentences are not about a martial arts class or training for bodyguards. This was a newspaper article describing a voluntary, four-hour course available to flight attendants, which noted, may interest those

“looking for more tools to protect themselves from aggressive, out-of-control passengers. Flight attendants wince at the mention of gouging an attacker’s eyes. ‘Remember, this guy is attacking you,’ the air marshal said, encouraging the class to keep their warrior mind-set.”

So, this is what it’s come to? A warrior mind-set among airline employees? What ever happened to “fly the friendly skies”?

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

I have a longstanding appreciation for words and their power, probably not surprising coming from someone who scratches out a weekly column. I recall when we were parents of young children, we often urged our kids to “use your words” in an ongoing effort to determine what they were thinking and feeling. Generally, the parental alternative was guessing… and I’m not an especially good guesser.

Starting in high school, and on into college, I was involved in a student-led organization that used words to create resolutions, outlining what we wanted to see happen, beginning with a series of “whereas” statements and culminating in “therefore, be it resolved…” (followed by several sentences stating the desired outcome). It was using our words to reveal our thinking and to outline an organizational direction. Of course, the action/doing part was always a bit more difficult.    

Last week, the governing body of the Republican Party met and passed a “whereas/therefore” resolution. By voice vote, they censured two Republican members of the U.S. House, Liz Cheney and Adam Kinzinger, who serve on the House select committee investigating January 6 events and related activities. This committee is charged with determining steps that should be taken to prevent future attacks on the Capitol.

Kurt Meyer writes a weekly column for the Nora Springs – Rockford Register, where this essay first appeared. He serves as chair of the executive committee (the equivalent of board chair) of Americans for Democratic Action, America’s most experienced liberal organization.

Several weeks ago, working on a writing assignment unrelated to this column, I explored the remarkable career of Patsy Takemoto Mink, a U.S. representative from Hawaii. From 1978 to 1981, she served as President of Americans for Democratic Action, a national advocacy organization currently celebrating its 75^th anniversary. Mink’s crowning legislative achievement was guiding Congressional passage of Title IX, signed into law by President Nixon on June 23, 1972.

Title IX is a mere 37 words: “No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving Federal financial assistance.”

Two items worth noting: First, while the law clearly forbids gender discrimination, athletics is never mentioned. Second, in the intervening 50 years, female participation in high school sports has grown by 1,057 percent, 614 percent at the college level.  

Kurt Meyer discusses Governor Kim Reynolds’ recent assertion that some “explicit” books are in school libraries because teachers are trying to push “their worldview” on students.

It was the summer before my senior year in high school, 1971, more than a half-century ago. I drove three miles to the village of Otranto to visit the “bookmobile” and checked out several books, including one with the word “revolutionaries” in the title. A recent google search identified the book: The High School Revolutionaries, published in 1970. I was engaged in student government; this was a modest attempt at preparation.

The book included conversations with students from across the country. One review noted, “The quality is uneven, but five pieces are exceptionally well-argued and provocative… (providing) the most graphic picture of the experience and sensibility of high school students today.” Unfortunately, it was only marginally relevant to someone in rural Iowa seeking to be a conscientious student council member.

Kurt Meyer chairs the Executive Committee of Americans for Democratic Action (ADA) and is President of Humanities Iowa. For the past year, he has written a weekly column for the (St. Ansgar) Enterprise Journal, where this commentary first appeared.  -promoted by Laura Belin

I’m worried about the church. I’m not talking here about my local congregation, the church in Mona. I’m not thinking about the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), the denomination I affiliate with. I’m not even referring to Christianity in general, although this is my primary concern.

Concern about “the church” is directed toward religion in America. Mark me down as one who believes in religion and its practice. It’s a major factor in my life and in lives of many I love. Additionally, I have worked with and for many churches and faith-based organizations over the years, professionally and as a volunteer, in relationships that are both deep and meaningful. 

Former U.S. Senator John Culver passed away in late December. I’ve asked several Iowans who knew him well to share some of their memories with Bleeding Heartland readers. Thanks to Kurt Meyer for these wonderful stories about Culver’s 1980 re-election campaign. -promoted by Laura Belin

As has been noted often in recent days, the late Senator John Culver was a remarkable individual, with warm praise forthcoming both for the breadth of his knowledge as well as the depth of his integrity. One reason these thoughts resonate is the contrast with current officeholders at almost every level.

While both of these qualities are notable, they are challenged for primacy in my reflection on John Culver by the senator’s outsized personality. He was fun; he was engaging. He was a great story-teller, who, ironically is himself the focus of many a great story, a rather unusual combination.

In 1980, Senator Culver, then seeking re-election, took a flyer on a couple of 25-year-olds open to adventure to head up in-state fundraising for his campaign. Having agreed to this assignment, my wife, Paula, and I set aside early careers in the Twin Cities and moved to Des Moines. Paula had not worked in a campaign before; I had, in both 1974 and 1976. (Our marriage in 1978 confined campaign involvement to a brief assignment coordinating a GOTV phone bank for the Hennepin County, MN, Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party.)

In retrospect, Paula and I came to regard 1980 as our short-term, Peace Corps-like experience: scrambling to achieve bold objectives in relatively uncharted territory, working ourselves silly for a greater cause in hopes of a better world… and perhaps bringing about some personal growth and maturity. We began in early January and vacated our modest apartment (and Iowa, at least temporarily) the day after the election in November.

Our 10-month campaign experience was unforgettable for many reasons, not least of which was that we worked for and with and under the banner of John Culver. The overall fund-raising strategy was relatively simple: to sponsor an ambitious series of events across the state, mostly gatherings in people’s homes in county seat towns, to re-introduce the senator, enabling Iowans to hear from him and question him directly, and conclude with a pitch for support.

It was vitally important for us to generate in-state financial support, with significant implications for our field/organizing operations. And, yes, clearly such efforts should have been taking place in an organized, low-key manner for at least three, maybe four years, rather than embarking on an aggressive “cramming” effort shortly before the final exam in early November.

Nevertheless, operating under a tight schedule, we set off, eager to do everything possible to advance the Culver campaign. For example, we aggressively marketed “Culver Corn Pins” (a lapel pin in the shape of an ear of corn, which had been part of the senator’s first congressional campaign). We sponsored a statewide lottery to win such a pin with a small diamond stud embedded. We sold and mailed complimentary copies of the book, Senator, by Elizabeth Drew, some of which included a “take-a-look” letter signed by Tom Stoner, who had sought the Republican Senate nomination to compete against Culver. Frank Licciardi, a gifted Dubuque artist, volunteered to paint a portrait of Culver, and we sold prints for something like $20. A signed and numbered version went for $100.

We hosted periodic heavy-hitter receptions with out-of-state guests, although the senator was unusually wary of surrogates coming into the state to campaign on his behalf. Two who did pass muster were Senator Bill Bradley of New Jersey and Senator Muriel Humphrey of Minnesota, appointed to serve out her late husband’s term. Vance Bourjaily hosted a Culver fundraiser at “Red Bird Farm” in Johnson County that required no reminder calls. “Oh, people will come,” we were told – and they did (and many wrote checks!). Harry Chapin and Jackson Browne performed small-scale benefit concerts, each generating a bit of cash and presumably some favorable buzz among a more youthful demographic (but before social media, who knows… maybe buzz by word-of-mouth?).

Many of these efforts were designed primarily to expand our Iowa donor base, in the hope of re-soliciting support at least two or three more times prior to November. Looking back, it was all quite basic and unsophisticated, labor-intensive, and often inefficient. But it worked. Thousands of donors in every corner of the state wrote checks for $25 and $50 and $100, some of them two and three and four times. We lost the election, to be sure, but we did NOT fall short due to lack of generous funding support.

An elderly woman from Dubuque faithfully mailed us a check of varying amounts every month, accompanied by a scribbled, hard-to-decipher note of support and encouragement that was almost as valued as the check. When we happened by coincidence to encounter her frail presence on a trip to the Guggenheim Museum shortly after the election, we almost hugged her to death!

Among the more indelible moments of this entire experience were the many fervent Culver supporters who housed us, fed us, supported us, advised us, encouraged us, and in many cases, handed us checks almost every time we saw them. After 39 years, some of these wonderful people, just like the senator, have gone on to their reward; many of those remaining are dear friends.

Examples of steadfast hospitality had a profound and long-lasting impact on this once-young couple. Paula and I have endeavored to model similar support for candidates and, perhaps as important, for their staff members since we returned to Iowa fifteen years ago, with invitations extended to many campaigns willing to venture north of highway 3 to join us at our home, “Tranquillity.”

Driven by conviction, by a commitment to public service, and by thinking (more than mere feeling), John Culver adhered to high standards, for himself and for all around him. His belief in the power of persuasion – based largely on facts, often presented orally – makes him a throwback politician, at least from today’s vantage point.

While Culver grasped the big picture, he often took great pains to interpret subtle observations, nuances, and small “hinge” points on which mighty matters can swing. He took pains to provide detailed explanations to Iowans he knew wanted to hear more than just two or three talking points.

As noted, John Culver was both brilliant and a model of political integrity. Furthermore, he had a personality as expansive and varied as our state. He often demonstrated “white-hot intensity,” a term the Des Moines Register once used to describe him, which was certainly preferable to “a hair-trigger temper,” a term the newspaper did NOT use but which, truth be told, they easily could have.

Like many politicians, John Culver was great in front of a crowd; at the same time, he was especially comfortable in a setting with a half-dozen people he knew and liked. With that in mind, let me close with one Culver story (and, suffice to say, there are many). The senator’s favorite place in the world was his home in McGregor, overlooking the Mississippi River. Here he had hosted President Jimmy Carter in 1979 when the president and the first lady were on a well-publicized river cruise. And here he hosted three Des Moines Register reporters interested in traveling with him in the fall of 1980.

Jim Flansburg, Donald Kaul, and David Yepsen accompanied Senator Culver to his home in McGregor on an overnight trip that required a staff member to serve as a one-person hospitality crew. I drew the assignment. The rambling Culver home had once been a hotel and accommodations were certainly adequate to this number of guests, all of whom arrived after the evening meal. The greatest challenge I faced was cooking breakfast on a huge beast of a stove the house was probably built around, since it was way too large to move either in or out.

With dawn approaching, I arrived in the kitchen well in advance, leaving adequate time to acquaint myself with my short-order cook assignment. Provisions were set out: eggs, bread, bacon, cast iron pans, a trusty toaster, a plug-in percolator, etc. Yes, I was a bit nervous, but the whole excursion had taken on the flavor of a fishing trip, so I assumed no one expected haute cuisine. When at the appointed hour, hungry men emerged for the day, I set to work, asking each how he wanted his eggs.

“Mr. Flansburg?” (…yes, a formality prompted by respect.) “Scrambled would be fine.”

“Mr. Kaul?” “Scrambled sounds good.”

“Mr. Yepsen?” “Scrambled, sure.”

“Senator?” Pause. Pause. “Poached!” (Hey, I HAD asked… and as I recall, I somehow succeeded in digging appropriate poaching equipment out of the pantry!)

So, before closing, and in light of this story, let me add a few Culver traits to the aforementioned: independent-thinking; unswayed by public opinion; capable of reaching his own conclusions; and not afraid to chart his own course, even if and when it means standing alone.

John Culver was a remarkable individual. Many, probably most, of whom worked closely with him were intensely loyal to him when he served in public office, throughout the intervening years, and now… both to his memory and to what I trust will be his enduring political legacy. Count Paula and me proudly among them.

Top image, from left: Paula Meyer, John Culver, and Kurt Meyer in August 2010. Photo provided by the author, used with permission.

This next shot was taken at the Iowa Democratic Wing Ding in August 2010. From left: Kurt Meyer, Becca Scoggin (daughter of John Culver), Senator Culver, Meg Tyler (daughter of Kurt and Paula Meyer), Matt Tyler (her husband), Paula Meyer.

Kurt Meyer is chair of the Mitchell County Democrats, the Tri-County Democrats and the Iowa Democratic Party’s Finance Committee. Earlier this month he was elected president of Americans for Democratic Action. He delivered these remarks to delegates who braved a snowstorm to attend the Mitchell County Democratic convention in March. -promoted by desmoinesdem

Good morning, Democratic friends and neighbors.

As you see, this morning I brought with me this gavel, not because I think we’ll get unruly – I don’t think we will – but rather because of what this gavel symbolizes: a system of justice, the rule of law, and a social code committed to process and fairness. We need to be reminded of these things every so often. Indeed, let me suggest this is one of those times.

You know me and you know I’m an incurable optimist. It’s true… guilty as charged! In addition, I am a student of history, a field of study that generally undergirds my optimism.

It’s this historic perspective I want to touch on for a moment. Despite considerable optimism, my read of history suggests we are now in an unprecedented and frightening time. Our country, and yes, even our state, are in peril. By their actions, elected leaders at multiple levels indicate they have minimal interest in actually representing us. It’s all very sobering, especially the thought that we may well be approaching a tipping point, a countdown of sorts to something even more disastrous than what we’ve seen in the last 15 months.

Many thanks to Kurt Meyer for sharing his prepared remarks from an October 22 event dedicating a sign in Stacyville (Mitchell County). Meyer encouraged me to give credit to Cheryl Mullenbach, who “more than any other person, brought Julia Addington’s story out of obscurity and into the light of public recognition.” Mullenbach’s article, first published in Iowa Heritage Illustrated in 2007, is on the Stacyville town website and well worth reading. -promoted by desmoinesdem

My name is Kurt Meyer. I am a proud member of the Mitchell County Historic Preservation Association. Today, we gather to honor Julia Addington, one of our remarkable local contributions to the rich, unending flow of history.

Perhaps because history is always in motion, it’s challenging to time-travel back… back to 1869, 148 years ago this month, to October 12, when Julia Addington was elected. Julia Addington – a woman! Bear in mind, women in the U.S. could not vote until the 19th amendment was ratified… something that didn’t happen for another 51 years.

Now, I know I should have told you this as you entered the room today, but this isn’t really the Stacyville Public Library. It’s a space capsule – also known as the “Wayback Machine” – and you and I together are about to time-travel. Hold on to your hats, buckle your seat belts, and ignore the calendar on your cellphone.

Woosh! I have news: It’s no longer 2017. We’re back in 1869.

Sixth-generation Iowan Kurt Meyer chairs the Mitchell County Democrats and is the founding chair of the Tri-County Democrats (Worth, Howard, & Mitchell counties). -promoted by desmoinesdem

After thoughtful consideration and conversations with Democrats throughout the state, I have decided to seek the position of Chair of the Iowa Democratic Party (IDP). Our Party has now experienced two devastating election cycles in a row. To address this reality, the IDP must act quickly to a) listen, assess, and incorporate lessons learned from the last election cycle; b) outline plans to chart a different course; and c) enlist and empower leaders at all levels to help us accomplish our plans. Here are my preliminary priorities: