Glidden is not a very well known town. Actually, a week ago, it wasn’t at all. I was born and raised in Glidden, Iowa. Well, not technically born in town since Glidden doesn’t have a hospital. Come to think of it, Glidden doesn’t look like it has much of anything —but keep in mind that looks are deceiving.

Some people know of Glidden because they drive on Highway 30. It’s just another small town in west central Iowa an hour west of Ames and seven miles from Carroll.

If you come from the west you would be greeted by a “State football champs 1975” sign, which will never be torn down because the old football team members are now the businessmen in town. (Let it go! It was almost 30 years ago!)

If you drive in from the east you would see the Dairy Mart, the Glidden equivalent of a Dairy Queen, except it’s only open during the summer. And of course, there’s the Casey’s store. Glidden has one flashing red stop light centered in the middle of “downtown.” Glidden looks like your basic farming community of 1,200 people.

Churches, one bar, one grocery store, one school, the post office, the cemetery, the watertower … you get the idea.

That is just the surface of Glidden. If you knew the real story of Glidden it would sound like it came out of a best-selling novel. But I’m here to fill you in.

Glidden’s claim to fame, every 85 years it seems, is death. I’m sure you’ve heard of Merle Hay. The mall and the road you might know, but what about Merle Hay the man? Well, he was from Glidden. Merle Hay was a clerk at a farm implement store in Glidden when World War I was declared.

He was the first Iowan and one of the first three Americans killed in the war. He was buried in France but his remains returned to Glidden in 1921 to be buried in the town cemetery.

Last week, a Gliddenite was the first Iowan killed by the West Nile virus. To tell you the truth — and I know it may sound mean — I wasn’t shocked.

Where else would it have happened?

Glidden has been plagued with weird things happening to its town members. We’ve had many teachers and students die unexpectedly — quite a few in the last decade. I didn’t personally know the man who died, but I did know of him.

When I went home this weekend it was life as normal. There were not as many children at the park as usual, but parents I’ve talked to are keeping their children indoors more since the latest news. Glidden has almost gotten used to the strange occurrences in town. As always, it is sad when a town member passes away, and I don’t like to use the term “cursed,” but that is what, at least it seems, has happened to Glidden.

Glidden-Ralston school also carries the curse of the music teachers. When I started first grade, we had a new choir teacher every two years — that is, until my junior year of high school, when we started getting a new choir teacher every year. Our high school principal turnover rate was almost as high.

On an upside, Glidden does have some redeeming qualities. You might have a Gliddenite tell you what is going to happen in the weather: John Mc Laughlin, the Channel 8 meteorologist, is from Glidden. PBS brought a camera crew to Glidden my senior year of high school because of all of the twins we have in town. Believe it or not, in 1998, Glidden-Ralston had ten sets of twins in school. Keep in mind that kindergarten through twelfth grade is all housed in one three-story building. My graduating class consisted of 40 people, and that was a large class. My brother graduated with 28, which is relatively average. When you crunch the numbers, that percentage of twins is rather high.

That often makes people wonder if there is something in the water in Glidden.

Glidden was a good town to grow up in, but I feel a lot safer having escaped from the town. I just hope the curse didn’t follow me.

Sarah Bolton

is a senior in English from Glidden.