Randy Evans's blog

We are in the home stretch of another presidential campaign, and it is important for voters to be alert for the unintended consequences of candidates’ promises.

Office-seekers and their supporters like to portray issues in terms of absolutes — as in, my position is the very best way to address this issue; my opponent’s way is all wrong.

Most of the time, issues are not all black, nor all white. Most of the time, issues involve many shades of gray, meaning there are no simple solutions.

Take illegal immigration, for example.

During the 40 years I was a newspaper editor/manager, I strived to ensure the staff incorporated context into their articles. Sometimes, in a journalistic shorthand, that was described “the Iowa angle.”

If there was a mass murder in Iowa, I would dip into my stash of clippings and find the list of the worst mass killings in Iowa history. That allowed us to give context to the magnitude of the tragedy.

The same with tornadoes and floods. How does the number of deaths compare with the worst of these nightmares we have experienced in the past?

During the Vietnam war, and later during the Gulf wars, we turned to bound desk calendars where we pasted clippings to track the running tally of deaths of Iowa soldiers.

So, over this past weekend a friend and I pawed through statistics to provide important Iowa context when Belgium’s mixed relay triathlon team pulled out of the Olympic competition in Paris.

Belgium’s decision was made after one of its athletes became ill and was hospitalized, reportedly for an E. coli infection, after she swam in the River Seine earlier in the competition. The same day as the announcement about Claire Michel, Olympic organizers canceled a training session for the swimming leg of the triathlon because the Seine’s water pollution levels were too high.

The quality of the Seine’s water has been a persistent worry leading up to this year’s Olympic Games. The pollution levels forced organizers to consider delaying, or even canceling, some outdoor swimming events.

This is where the Iowa angle comes into the picture — and it provides some interesting context for the news out of Paris.

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.

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.