As you may have noticed, I usually try to steer clear of major state or national issues. Today, however, I saw a story gracing the front page of the Des Moines Register that even I found trivial enough to comment on.

It appears that the governor of Minnesota, Arne Carlson, has called our very own state capital city, Des Moines, Iowa “dead” and lacking in people.

Well! Apparently all those years in working with the legislature wreaked havoc on Governor Branstad’s playground etiquette. Instead of snapping something back like,”Well at least Iowans can say Minnesota without a funny little accent,” or even more appropriate, “Shut up, you big poopy head!” Branstad asks for an apology and then counts on the rest of the state to back him up with Minnesota jokes. He’d never make it at recess in this day and age.

To begin with, I don’t understand why he got so mad about it. Keep in mind we’re talking about Iowa here. Iowa in the winter, nonetheless! I hate to be the one to point this out, but Iowa in February is less than spectacular. It’s cold, it’s slushy and it may look rather “dead.” (Although you can’t tell me Minnesota is one bit better!)

Our elder generation seems to have this figured out. Grandparents galore head off to Florida or Texas every winter and come back in the spring when it’s fun to live in Iowa again.

As far as the lack of people comment goes, I don’t think that statement should send that many people reeling either. While those who actually live in Des Moines often seem to have this attitude that it’s some huge enormous city, the rest of us know that it is a city and nothing more. You want to see a huge enormous city? Go to Chicago, St. Louis or somewhere other than Des Moines.

Despite it’s limitations as just an average-sized city, I don’t think Gov. Carlson was justified in saying there were no people in Des Moines.

If he wants to pick on Iowa about low population, he has a much better scapegoat than a town of approximately 300,000. Good grief, small towns are what Iowa is all about!

For instance, let’s take a look at my old stomping grounds, Aurora, Iowa. In Psychology 101 my freshmen year of college, there were more people in the lecture then in my hometown of 200. It’s a petite little village made up of a handful of streets and a convenience store. I graduated in a class of 39 people in a consolidated school made up of three different towns, and suddenly I was living on a residence hall floor that had a little less than double that number (and only six bathroom stalls).

Towns like mine are the kind that a certain Minnesnowbound Governor could easily attack as lacking in people.

As Iowans, we shouldn’t be offended when this Carlson character scoffs our low population. I personally liked growing up in a small town.

People who were raised in bigger cities don’t seem to understand. “What did you do?” they ask with a look of slight disgust and immense pity crossing over their face. “Didn’t you get bored?”

I’m a firm believer that no matter how big of a town you live in, people who are not creative and not fun to be with anyway tend to get bored. It’s all a matter of making your own fun. If you can’t even keep yourself from being bored, think how dull you must seem to other people.

Living in a small town is great! Never in your life will you experience such low crime rates. You don’t really need to lock your house, lock your bike or lock your car. In fact, I bet you could leave your keys in your car,while it’s running, for an hour and a half, and the only thing you would lose would be the power in your car battery (I hope nobody tests this theory though, because it’s dumb to leave your car running for that long for no reason).

Safety is also a big plus in living in a small community. Before I came to Iowa State, I never once thought about walking alone in the dark. Getting your house burglarized and drive-by shootings were horrible things that were seen in the news, but they rarely happened to our townspeople.

Sure, your shopping malls are a little farther drive away, and there may not be any stoplights in town. So what if your next door neighbor, her parents and their niece down the block all know every intimate detail of your personal life? It’s all part of living in a community where you are known and loved.

As for Governor Carlson, he can say what he wants, and I won’t be offended. But I’m not above revenge. When he shows up at the Iowa State Fair this summer, his mouth watering for a juicy Iowa pork chop with barbecue sauce and an ear of buttery corn on the cob, I think we should simply say, “I’m sorry Governor, you can’t be served. We’re dead.”

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Joanne Roepke is a junior in journalism and mass communication from Aurora.