Once a year or so I revisit this subject. After the last version ran, some of you sent me some additions for this time. As before, some are borrowed, the rest original; here goes.
You might be from Tama County if:
Your idea of a really great tenderloin is when the meat is twice as big as the bun.
You say cattywampas instead of askew.
You know how to Polka, and do the Chicken Dance.
You have more fishing poles than shoes.
The name of your bank includes your town name.
You’ve had to replace your mailbox because the snowplow hit it.
You think “opening a can of worms” means you’re going fishing.
When someone asks “Were you born in a barn?” you know what they mean.
You have a $500 stereo in a $300 truck.
You know somebody who’s bald on top and has a pony tail.
You know somebody whose truck tire size exceeds their IQ.
You know what cow tipping is.
You’ve had to stop your car and wait while eight deer cross the road and clear the fence on the other side of the ditch.
Little smokies in barbecue sauce are something you serve on special occasions.
You have driven 55 through a foot of snow during a raging blizzard and not lost control.
You think a stock tip is about some new way to raise cows.
You think a quarter horse is some ride outside Wal-Mart.
You know what a Maid-Rite is and know they shouldn't be served with ketchup.
You know what detassling means.
You have “walked beans.”
You learned to drive when you were 11.
The people on the Jerry Springer show remind you of your neighbors.
There are more trucks than cars in the parking lot of your church.
You’ve been on TV describing the sound of a tornado.
You think the French Riviera is an imported car.
You remember what you were doing during the flood of ’93.
Every so often you have waterfront property.
Rush hour is a Saturday afternoon in the summer.
You’ve missed school on opening day of deer season.
You see people wearing camouflage at social gatherings.
You see people wearing bib overalls to church.
All the women you know have jumper cables and know how to use them.
You’ve worn a Halloween costume over an overcoat.
Your last name isn't pronounced the way it's spelled, and has a shortage of vowels.
You describe a color as John Deere Green.
You are always disappointed in the food; no matter where else in the country you go.
You can pronounce Okoboji, but can't spell it. (I had to look it up).
You know how Buddy Holly died.
You can see a car running, with nobody in it at Fareway, or the bank.
You drink pop, not soda.
You will bring a sack of potatoes home from the store, not a bag of potatoes home from the market.
You remember Robert Ray, and Howard Hughes.
You know where Herbert Hoover was born.
You know what taco pizza is.
You know what a walking taco is.
You know a few “dorks.”
When telling someone your phone number, you only give them 4 digits.
You are offered assistance in a store, and they don't work there.
You have apologized to a telemarketer.
You have carried on a conversation with someone who dialed a wrong number.
Your “good clothes” are your newest jeans.
You know thongs are worn on your feet.
Your daily meals are breakfast, dinner and supper.
You have put your tongue on a frozen steel post.
You might have a tummy ache, but not a stomach ache.
You enter a large auditorium, and think to yourself, “Sure could stack a lot of hay bales in here.”
You still think you could be sucked in to the bottom of an escalator.
You lose your job, your dog dies, your car breaks down, you break your little toe, and you say to your best friend, “It could be worse.” Then it gets worse.
You know what a “tickle hill” is.
You think Carhart must have been some early Iowa pioneer.
You know where Haven is.
You think the stock market has “barb wire” around it.
You know Des Moines is not in Des Moines County.
You don't get upset when someone stops in the middle of the road to talk to a friend.
You do the “warsh” or “warsh” the dog.
You have received and have given out May Baskets.
You go “in to town.”
You only go to Missouri for fireworks.
You know the answer to the question “Is this heaven?”
You read In to the Wind, and might know where Gilly Hollow is.
Until next time--
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In to the Wind and this column are copyright 2011 Mike Gilchrist. Readers, feel free to contact me at email@example.com via email, or write to me at P.O. Box 255, Toledo, IA 52342.