By Eric Lichtblau

Dear Iowa, 

This is never easy, so I’ll just say it: We need to end it. It’s just not working for me anymore. 

Yes, you were “the first.” You’ll always be the first, at least in my heart. But we both know we’ve been having a lot of “communication” problems lately, and the whole fiasco on Monday night was just the tipping point for me. When I didn’t hear back from you all night, I realized things had to end. This was supposed to be a special night for us; we’d been planning it for over a year. Everyone knew about it: Pete and Liz, Bernie and Amy, even Joe. All that buildup — for nothing.

I waited until after midnight, with still no word from you. Sure, we’ve all had “technical problems” with our cell phones, but that’s no excuse. Have you ever heard of a land line or an old-fashioned piece of paper? At 1 am, when you finally called, you had the audacity to give me a cursory “I’ll be in touch later today” line before you abruptly hung up. At least you had the decency to apologize later and to call what you did “unacceptable,” but that doesn’t make up for all the frustration and disappointment. Even now, as I write this, I still don’t know the full truth of what really happened Monday night. I’m even hearing rumors you might have been out with your Russian friends.  I feel so unappreciated, like just another also-ran.

Yet I leave you with no bitterness. I’ll always cherish the many memories we’ve had. My god, has it really been 48 years since we started down this path together? You’ve always been the one. I adored all your quaint, quirky ways — the charm of those middle-America diners and all those corn dogs at the Iowa State Fair. You introduced me to such fascinating people; Barack in ’08 was priceless (though I certainly could have done without Trump or Ted Cruz in ’16). And you certainly had your frisky side, organizing all those “group” events for us and wooing the other party-goers to our side of the room with promises we both knew you’d never keep. It was definitely different!

In hindsight, though, I should have realized this whole relationship was a mistake after our very first time back in ’72, when McGovern ended up losing in a landslide — to Nixon, no less. But I stuck with you through everything — through all the endless speeches, all the booze-filled nights, all the obnoxious, out-of-town paparazzi who would show up every four years. Your needs always came first. I realize now that you’ve had far too much influence over my life all these years, considering your obvious shortcomings. How to put this nicely: you’re just too white. And too old. And too rural. I need more diversity in my life than you can ever really offer me, and I know you will never change.

It’s not as though I haven’t had other suitors over the years, you know. Many of them, in fact. New Hampshire would love to be my number one, and California has made very clear that they want me, too. I don’t know where, but I’m ready to start fresh somewhere else.

We almost made it to our Golden Anniversary, but not quite. So long, Iowa, and good riddance. We’ll always have Des Moines!

ERIC LICHTBLAU is a two-time Pulitzer Prize–winning journalist and the best-selling author of The Nazis Next Door and Bush’s Law: The Remaking of American Justice. His latest book, Return to the Reich: A Holocaust Refugee’s Secret Mission to Defeat the Nazis, was released in October of 2019. He was a Washington reporter for the New York Times for fifteen years and for the Los Angeles Times for fifteen years before that. He has also written during his career for the New Yorker, TIME, the Intercept, and other publications. He has been a frequent guest on NPR, MSNBC, C-SPAN, and other networks, as well as a speaker at many universities and institutions. He lives outside Washington, D.C.