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Some memories stick with you — like that August day around 1960 when my parents loaded my two brothers and me into our Dodge Coronet and headed to the Iowa State Fair for the first time. Our excitement rivaled that of Abel Frakes’ family in the famous “State Fair” movies.

The Frakeses celebrated during their time in Des Moines — with Abel winning the grand champion ribbon with Blue Boy, his prized pig, and Melissa’s mincemeat winning, too. But the Evanses’ excitement was cut short when torrential rains sent us scrambling for our car much earlier than planned.

For some Iowans, new rules for this year’s State Fair may remind us of a time in Iowa’s recent past that was far from joyful — when COVID turned our state and our institutions upside down.

For the past couple of years, Republicans often accused Joe Biden of dodging the media — refusing to sit for extended interviews, declining to be questioned in regular White House press conferences, depriving the public of the opportunity to see how he thinks on his feet and articulates his views.

In his critics’ opinion, the reason Biden and his staff avoided these unscripted events was the awareness he was not mentally agile enough to keep up with the demands pointed questions bring. The president’s supporters brushed aside those assertions — although Biden’s performance during the recent debate confirmed their worst anxieties.

I am not here to re-plow that political ground. Instead, I wonder why other political leaders much younger than the 81-year-old president are so reluctant to stand in front of their constituents, and journalists, and answer questions on a variety of topics.

Take, for example, Congressman Zach Nunn, 45, who represents Iowa’s 3rd District in the U.S. House.

Do you remember that phrase our nation’s founders wrote in the preamble to the Constitution 237 years ago? The one about forming a more perfect union?

We have hit some speed bumps in that quest, a couple that would rattle your teeth. I wonder when, and how, or if, we are going to get back on the road.

Consider these potholes our nation has banged into on that road to a more perfect union:

President Joe Biden, in front of a television audience in the tens of millions, stumbled and stammered and had his train of thought rumble off the tracks in one of the most embarrassing performances since I was told to sing a solo in front of my classmates in fourth grade.

Donald Trump, the president’s opponent in that debate two weeks ago, had trouble uttering a truthful statement — except when he stated, “I really don’t know what he said at the end of that sentence. I don’t think he knows what he said, either.”

Through the years, justices on the Iowa Supreme Court typically avoid harsh or overzealous language in their decisions.

That is why two separate dissenting opinions jumped out Friday when the court issued its long-anticipated decision on the Legislature’s latest attempt to ban nearly all abortions in Iowa.

By a 4-3 split, the Supreme Court decided the 2023 law is a rational response to a legitimate state interest, protecting the lives of unborn children. The law prohibits abortions once “cardiac activity” in the fetus is detectable by ultrasound, usually about six weeks after conception. The law provides exceptions for rape or incest, when the fetus has an abnormality incompatible with life, or when the pregnancy endangers the mother’s life.

The authors of the two dissents were Chief Justice Susan Christensen of Harlan and Justice Edward Mansfield of Des Moines. They were joined by Justice Thomas Waterman of Davenport. Their 56 pages of analysis and commentary provide important insight into this divisive issue.

You know how some memories stick with you for no logical reason? One such memory involves my dad in the 1960s when I was a teenager.

After World War II, my father worked for the City of Bloomfield, eventually becoming operator of the city’s water treatment plant.

Pop graduated from high school on the eve of the Great Depression. His most intense period of book-learning after high school came in the 1960s when Iowa decided to require state licenses for operators of municipal water treatment plants and sewage treatment plants.

After so many years away from the classroom, this was a time of anxiety as Pop prepared for the licensing exam. He attended classes at night and had his nose in textbooks other evenings.

I mention this, because this was about 60 years ago. More recently, a different and far larger contingent of Iowans has been experiencing anxiety over state regulations. But this time the anxiety involves people angry the government is turning its back on the same reasons for requiring Iowa cities and towns to have state-licensed operators of their water treatment and sewage treatment facilities.

by Ed Tibbetts, Iowa Capital Dispatch
June 21, 2024

They sounded like they cared.

In the aftermath of a mad gunman’s horrifying massacre of 60 people at a concert in Las Vegas seven years ago, members of Congress from Iowa sent this message: It made no sense that bump stocks — the device that allows semi-automatic weapons to act like machine guns — could be legal under federal law.

Sen. Chuck Grassley said, “modifications to legal firearms that effectively convert them into something that the law prohibits certainly deserve scrutiny.”

Sen. Joni Ernst was one of nine GOP senators who asked the Trump administration to review an Obama-era finding that bump stocks were legal.

“I do think there can be some action,” Ernst said. “We’ve just got to figure out what that action is.”

Turns out, they figured out exactly what to do: Nothing.

Most people go through life never stepping foot inside a courtroom. Most people, that is, except for attorneys, judges, journalists, the few of us chosen to be jurors, and an even more select group, those who are accused of crimes.

If I were talking now with my dear parents, may they rest in peace, I would quickly assure them that my many days spent in courtrooms have been in a professional capacity, not as a defendant trying to avoid the slammer.

As a reporter and later as the boss of reporters, I have had an up-close vantage point to watch our court system as it works. I claim no special expertise. But 50 years in a ringside seat on the judiciary have given me perspective that is worth sharing.

Here is a tidbit from my years as a newspaper reporter and editor:

I never voted in a primary election, never attended the Iowa caucuses, never stuck a candidate’s sign in my yard, never had a bumper sticker on my car, never signed a petition, never donated to a campaign.

When Sue and I married, she got something more in the deal than my sparkling personality. She knew she could not have any yard signs, because people driving past our home would not know which part of the yard was for her opinions and which was for mine. To eliminate any confusion, there were no yard signs. Period.

You don’t often hear anyone extol the benefits of the Covid pandemic. But I did few weeks ago — when I stood before the Storm Lake Kiwanis club and talked about government transparency in Iowa.

I did not wade into the debate over masks, social distancing or vaccinations. It was a polite audience, but I was not silly enough to needlessly venture onto that thin ice.

What I said about the pandemic was this: State and local governments embraced, even if grudgingly, the benefits of live-streaming their board meetings during the pandemic so the public could watch from wherever they were.

The Legislature took an important step two weeks ago in voting to toughen penalties for state and local officials who violate a key government transparency tool, Iowa’s open meetings law.

Unfortunately, lawmakers’ actions may not be enough to reverse the love for secrecy that too many government boards and councils demonstrate. The latest example comes from Des Moines.

City officials moved discussion of possible changes in Des Moines’ “standard development agreement” away from a meeting of the City Council that any interested citizen could attend. The discussion was held, instead, during two private meetings of council members the public did not know about.