Why All My Heroines Grew Up in Iowa

By Linda Lovely

Though it’s been decades since I left home, I remain grateful I grew up in Keokuk, Iowa. My hometown sits on bluffs above a wide swath of the Mississippi River. Take one bridge out of town and you’re in Illinois; the other bridge, and you’re in Missouri. While I can’t overestimate my single mother’s role in forming my value system, Keokuk, Iowa, did an excellent job of reinforcing my belief in the value of education, women’s rights, personal responsibility, and tolerance. So, it’s probably no surprise that all of my heroines grew up in Keokuk, or another small Iowa town.

Growing up beside the Mississippi River

My tenth mystery set for November release is based in the South Carolina Lowcountry. In fact, the strong-willed leading ladies in all of my contemporary novels live in the South, just like me. Yet, in a sense, all these novels begin in Iowa where my heroines came of age.

My heroines’ professions vary. Two have military backgrounds—Army and Coast Guard. One’s a retired FBI agent. Another is a forensic accountant. Yet another is a vegan chef. They range in age from late twenties to a fifty and above. So, given this diversity, why didn’t I have some of these women grow up where they now live—be it Beaufort, South Carolina, or Atlanta, Georgia?

The reason’s probably a combination of laziness and failed imagination. While my heroines may be braver, more talented and smarter than me, they share my values. I’m quite certain women who grew up elsewhere share my beliefs and attitudes. Heck, many of my friends prove that. Yet, as an author, I find it simpler to let my heroines learn some of their life lessons in my hometown.

My Heroine grew up in Keokuk.

How did my upbringing influence me (and them)? It starts with the schools. When I was growing up, Keokuk had fantastic public schools that promoted both education and social acceptance. While elementary schools were primarily neighborhood affairs within walking distance of students’ homes, our relatively small population (under 20,000) meant the town had only one Junior High and Senior High. As a result, my classmates spanned the economic spectrum from poor to wealthy and included boys and girls, Christians and Jews, Whites and Blacks, farm kids and townies.

We studied together and played together. While there were the inevitable social cliques, neither skin color, religion, or economic status excluded kids from advanced study tracks, music, band and other extracurricular activities, Y programs, public swimming pools, or school dances. While I regularly attended a Methodist church, I visited  Catholic and evangelical churches with friends. While I was well aware of prejudices and slights, we didn’t live in a homogenous bubble, and we got along.

I can't image living far away from water.

It's natural to look back on the past with nostalgia, to remember the good and forget the bad. Yes, I’m definitely guilty. Nonetheless, the good in my hometown of yesteryear will always have a special place in my heart, even though the Keokuk I remember no longer exists. I’m startled by the changes every time I return. The vacant stores on Main Street. The crumbling condition of the house where I grew up. Since my mother’s death, my visits primarily coincide with high school reunions. So, when I gather with my classmates, the old Keokuk still lives—and it will be around as long as we are.