If you want to understand a place, the U.S. Census is a good place to start. Every ten years, it freezes a community in time, counting every person who calls it home. But here’s the thing–numbers only tell part of the story. In small-town Iowa, the real truth lies between the lines, in the culture, values, and connections that no spreadsheet can measure.

Take Tama. Back in 1870, just 1,161 people lived here. By 1970, the population had climbed to an even 3,000. We dropped a bit in the ’80s and ’90s, but by 2020, Tama had reached its highest census count ever, a whopping 3,130 people. That growth didn’t happen out of the blue, but with decades of slow and steady progress. New families moved in, kids came back after college, and others stayed to keep the community alive.

Toledo tells a different story. In 1990, the census counted 2,386 residents. A jump in 2000 brought the number to 2,566, then it slipped down to 2,331 in 2010. By 2020, it was back up to 2,369, not an explosion by any means, but proof that Toledo is consistent. Stability is often its own kind of success.

Just as a bit of a fun exercise I went down the rabbit hole and glanced at Oelwein’s census data. No one get too mad at me, I’m a born and raised Tama-Toledo resident but my family isn’t “from here”. That conversation annoys me, but I’ll save that for a later date. (Ruffling feathers seems to be part of the job) My parents and grandparents grew up in Oelwein, so I spent a fair amount of my childhood visiting on the weekends and getting to experience a little bit of what they did.

Back to the data–In 2000, Oelwein had 6,692 people. By 2010, it was down to 6,415. In 2020, 5,920. The census shows a steady decline, but if you go there today, you’ll still find people who’ve known each other for generations, businesses that have been there longer than I’ve been alive, and a sense of pride that’s immune to statistics.

I should mention that I pulled all these census numbers straight from Wikipedia, which compiles them from the official U.S. Census Bureau records. I’ve actually been thinking about this topic for a while: how our towns grow, shrink, and change–but I’ll be honest: numbers scare the crap out of me. Words are definitely my comfort zone; they can bend, direct, and tell a bigger story. Numbers, on the other hand, feel rigid and final, and they don’t always leave room for the “why” behind the changes. But maybe that’s what makes this topic interesting to me–when you set the numbers next to the stories, you start to see the whole picture.

When you look at these towns on a census chart, you see peaks and valleys. But when you live here, you see something else–neighbors who shovel each other’s sidewalks, kids who still wave at the fire truck in a parade, people who show up for Thursday night dinners and Friday night games. Our progress isn’t always measured in growth percentages. Sometimes it’s in what stays the same.

That’s the special thing about small-town Iowa. We may not be adding thousands to our population every decade, but we’re adding stories, memories, and connections that don’t fade when the census takers pack up and leave. Beyond the numbers, we’re still here–and that’s worth counting.

Despite any data, I’m just Jonathan.