On the way to Byron’s

I finally met Byron of Byron’s fame. You know, the quirky music venue in Pomeroy, a sleepy northwest Iowa town, like so many others, towns that once supported their own school systems and sports teams. They cultivated fierce rivalries with the towns next door.

Now, they are hanging on to whatever vestiges of identity they can, remembering a lost era when storefronts were occupied and people could — and did — shop locally.

I grew up in a town very much like Pomeroy. I know such towns, but none of them have a Byron’s. You must want to go to get there. This was a fact noted by members of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative who descended on Storm Lake last week for their spring meeting.

One IWC friend from Des Moines marveled at how we, in northwest Iowa, drive 45 minutes for all kinds of reasons. “We complain if we have to drive to Ankeny,” she said.

Here’s what I’ve noticed, though. People in cities spend nearly as much time getting to sporting events and shopping centers as rural people do. They may drive shorter distances, but they have other negotiations that take time: traffic, parking, and waiting in line. They have density; we have distance.

On the way to Pomeroy, I tried to envision what my friends were thinking as they drove along Highway 7. This is a beautiful time of year. Fields are plowed, their rich, black soil seems full of promise. On the surface, all looks well, but my friend Jim Sayers rightly notes that those fields remind him “of the significant challenges we face to preserve soil and its health.”

The land is flat and open, featureless almost. How does that register with someone like my friend, Bob, who used to live on an acreage in southeast Iowa, with hills and trees.

Or my friend, Connie from Des Moines who asked what people do if they need milk at 9 pm. In a word: Casey’s.

What do they see when they roll through Newell, where once the Good Samaritan Center offered nursing care and jobs? Or Fonda, with its ball fields and swimming pool set back from the highway? Do they see quaint Americana or a foreign, fading way of life? A way of life that’s interesting to pass through and say you’ve been there, done that?

On that 45-minute drive to Pomeroy, I only met a handful of cars. For me, this is normal, but what does it feel like for someone from Des Moines? Eerie, perhaps? Otherworldly?

I pulled up not far from the front door and walked right in. I was handed a raffle ticket and a multi-colored plastic peace symbol. Groovy.

Walking back from the bar with my Coke in a can (only a buck!!!), I saw Byron perched on a stool. I extended my hand; he opened his arms, and then I knew that everything that’s been said or written about the man and this place was true.

I arrived late for the first set but caught some of Jason Walsmith’s act. He was performing solo, but you may know him as a member of The Nadas. Dartanyan Brown followed with his vocal stylings. Carol Montag’s voice recalled Joni Mitchell and Judy Collins for me, and she sang hilarious songs about Jello and Velveeta.

John Naughton walked in about then and sat at our table. He carried two ukuleles. I’m fascinated by that instrument; learning to play is on my retirement bucket list.

In between sets, Byron pulled tickets and announced raffle winners. Among the prizes: a back scratcher, a pocketknife, photos of that night’s musicians, and a Bic lighter. The winner of the backscratcher said he would add it to his collection. Obviously, he’s a Byron’s regular.

Then the second set started with Chip Albright and his new song about Josh Turek’s candidacy to replace Joni Ernst in the US Senate. I couldn’t stay for Lyle Muller’s round, sadly, and I’m still curious about what happened with those ukuleles.

Art Cullen and I got to share our little corner of the world for a couple of days with good friends, good conversation, and good music. And I finally made it to Byron’s.

It’s delightfully down-home, where all are welcome. Byron’s is the way the world should be.

Shame on me for waiting so long.

Joan Zwagerman is a member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. If you’d like to read columns by other members, you can check us out at https://iowawriters.substack.com