Small Towns
A Few Hours in a Smaller Iowa Town
And a way forward in our divided country.
Right around the corner
We asked the young woman behind the counter at Ossian’s Silver Springs Golf Club whether they served lunch.
Mike and I had just finished 18 grueling holes, and I needed to hand in the key to our gas-powered cart.
It’s not easy for two mid-seventies guys to get in and out over 90 times each.
Besides, we didn’t just play golf. Mike’s a Republican, and I’m a Democrat, so we talked politics. “What do you think, Mike? Do Democrats or Republicans cheat more on the links?” I asked just before he tried that short putt for the win on number 17.
Ossian, in northeast Iowa, is 11 miles from Decorah, where we live.
Its population is 800, one-tenth of metropolitan Decorah.
The counterwoman said, “No, but Bambino’s is just around the corner. They have great hamburgers.”
So, we got into Mike’s grey Toyota pick-up and headed past the Lutheran Church down to Main Street, where we turned right. Left would have taken us to Calmar.
After three blocks, there was still no Bambino’s, and we were fast-running out of town on the way to Postville. I spotted an older couple coming out of Ace Hardware, and Mike angled the truck up to their car.
“We’re looking for Bambino’s.”
“Turn around, and it’s right around the corner.”
Sue and Ron
So, it was. Two junctions down from Ace. We finally spotted the tiny Bambino lettering in the lower left-hand corner of the only window in the brick facade. Bambinos was a bar.
We walked in at 12:30 and out at 2:30, entertained, enlightened, and well-fed.
Co-owner Sue was sitting at the end of the bar that opened into a kitchen area. Her partner and husband, Ron, came over to take our order. Two older guys were sitting at a corner table, and their counterparts were at the other end of the bar.
Fox News, silent, looked down on us from just to the left of Sue. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu had just entered the House chamber with the scroll “Democrats boycott the speech.”
I don’t remember exactly when we learned Sue and Ron’s names or that they owned the place, but it was sometime in the first five minutes.
“The young woman at the golf course recommended your hamburgers,” Mike said.
“Where are you guys from?’’ asked Sue.
When we said Decorah, she fired back,
People from Decorah don’t come to Ossian, even when our hamburger was named the best in Iowa.
The best hamburger
I liked Sue immediately.
She exuded good-soulness before I knew why.
And her feistiness reminded me of my mom and myself when faced with the perceived superiority of big-city and coastal elites. Many of us in flyover America feel THAT part of Donald’s appeal.
We asked her to tell us their “best hamburger” story while I watched Ron frying our orders off her right shoulder. You can read the official story here.
This is Sue’s shortened version.
By the way, 10 minutes into her narrative, three things happened. Ron delivered our burgers, with mine being the one in the photo. It was as good as it looked. Netanyahu started his speech. And a large picture frame crashed down on the table just vacated by two older guys. Five minutes earlier, it would have been a crime scene. Unflappable, Sue said they’d take care of that later.
When Bambino’s won the award in 2021 against 300 Iowa restaurants, they sold 160 burgers the month before victory and 4600 the month after.
“What was that like?” we asked.
“It was hell. We run this place by ourselves. But we raised our price from $5 to $8. Plus, it allowed me to sell more of my children’s books.”
An author
This is Sue’s first book. The second was just published, and the third is almost finished.
Leaning over the counter, she read this one to us, a captivated, not captured, audience.
While Bibi gesticulated on the screen.
Ron began to clean up the mess from the collapsed picture.
Mike purchased both books for his granddaughter, and I bought them for Rebecca’s seventh grandchild, Alice. I’m honored to be a grand friend.
A way forward
Even for those of us who live in small Iowa towns, it’s too damn easy to patronize, if not in person, then in thought those who live in even smaller towns.
And America’s politics doesn’t help.
But that lets us off the hook.
We’re, each of us, America’s politics.
The next time you’re in a small town, anywhere, go into that shop, yes, that one, right around the corner.
You might learn something.
JonesPJ has written a story all writers should read.
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