I don’t know if you’ll be attending the next Tulip Festival to be held in Orange City, Iowa, during the third weekend in May, but I’ll tell you what stands out to me from all the festival fun. Or rather, I’ll start by saying what does not stand out because, looking back, the answer is a bit of a surprise.

The standout feature of Orange City’s Tulip Festival is not the tulips, although eye-catching tulips abound throughout the community such as in Windmill Park downtown and flanking both sides of Central Avenue as it approaches Northwestern College’s campus, where myriad more tulips are found. All in all, the Chamber of Commerce estimates that, if you took the time to count the new tulip bulbs planted each year, the total would exceed 50,000 (all of which are imported from Holland) but, as impressive as that number is, that’s not the standout feature of Tulip Festival.

Nor is it the twice daily parades, featuring the thrill of loud bands, elaborate floats (some of which raise the question “Where does the driver sit?”) or even the embellished and well-researched Dutch costumes.

Likewise, the standout feature is not the fussy street scrubbing, the uplifting Night Show or even an indulgence in “poffertjes” and other made-fresh Dutch treats that can unravel the most disciplined diet.

Here it is for me: the standout feature of Orange City’s Tulip Festival is the peace, joy and love that endures long after the festival concludes. I tend to look for goodness where it is to be found. These days, most of us are acutely aware of the divisions that fester in our nation and world, and even within closely knit families. The divisions are real and painful. And they can strain our most intimate bonds. Who does not know the sting of losing a good friend over an abysmal disagreement?

That’s why it’s vital to notice what else is happening in and around us, such as through the enduring values found at Orange City’s Tulip Festival.

You might disagree. Perhaps it’s the Ferris Wheel that draws you to Tulip Festival. Or maybe it is the poffertjes after all. Whatever the case, I encourage you to consider the following.

Peace

Tulip Festival delivers peace. Most years, before the festival’s Friday afternoon parade begins, I gather several lawn chairs and head to the intersection of First Street and Arizona. There I join family and friends. We sit in a row, close enough to chat even when a band passes by and near enough to the parade to gather candy if any is tossed our way.

In that setting, I’m regularly filled with a sense of peace. It’s a peace that includes an awareness of personal wellbeing to be sure, as well as harmony with my family and friends. It’s something that overshadows problems, such as ill health or political clashes.

More importantly, it’s a fullness of peace that rises above all the rest that’s going on. Now that’s a reason to attend Orange City’s Tulip Festival, for sure!

We know that trouble doesn’t go away. There are wars and natural disasters, as well as financial despair and government shenanigans. Orange City’s Tulip Festival offers a welcome alternative to the daily grind of living.

With that in mind, consider the following questions:

• Instead of cleaning your house, why not watch a horde of costumed people clean a city street?
• Instead of finding something to watch on Netflix, why not watch the Volksparade and see whimsical floats, well-rehearsed bands and maybe even a fellow riding an old bike with a ridiculously large front wheel?
• Instead of taking a drive in your car, why not catch a ride on a horse-drawn streetcar and get a feel for life in the 19th century?
• Instead of complaining about sore feet, why not behold the Klompen Dancers as they put cotton cushioning to the test? Are their wooden shoes sufficiently padded, or will they be treating blisters tonight?
• Instead of wishing to visit Broadway, why not get tickets for the Night Show?
• Instead of spending another day in your same old home, why not drop by the Century Home and discover how Orange City’s first mayor lived?
• Instead of doing needle work at home, why not get inspired by the needle work of about 200 gifted stitchers at the Quilt Show? Instead of listening to a playlist on Apple Music, why not encounter a live organ concert at Northwestern College?
• Instead of complaining that your kitchen is out of date, why not crash the Vogel Windmill and check out the cooking conditions there? How does your “old kitchen” look in comparison to preparing three meals a day with only a fireplace and two large pots?

One of the deepest human desires is for peace and, for me, one of Tulip Festival’s enduring outcomes is peace. Personally, it’s a two-step process that comes from, first, stepping away from day-to-day demands and, second, stepping into a magnificent alternative. I don’t think I’m unusual in that regard. Admittedly, there is no data from double blind research to confirm my point. And, admittedly, maybe I’m guilty of exaggeration and oversimplification. Still, it might be impressive for you to join me in exploring the underlying values of Tulip Festival.

Joy

Tulip Festival is named for a flower that is known, through its springtime explosion of color, to bring joy. That’s right! Tulips reliably deliver joy. The average person, on a bone-chilling February day in Iowa, will break into a smile with the memory of a tulip patch and the promise that red, orange, and yellow blossoms will materialize in due time.

Tulips probably originated in Central Asia and were cultivated in Iran (Persia) as early as the 10th century. Six hundred years later, the Ottoman Empire spread tulips around Asia and North Africa and into Europe. Then, in the 17th century, people in the Netherlands got so carried awaythat a rare tulip bulb was worth more than an Amsterdam townhouse, an era known as Tulip Mania. Why was there such a fuss? Perhaps the answer, beyond the dynamics of supply and demand, must do, at least in part, with what I have been saying about joy.

I wonder if joy was on the mind of the unnamed author of a 1940 Sioux County Capital article when writing, “. . . amid a world at war, we should this year celebrate our Spring Festival with sincerity. Be happy in the fact that . . . our (tulip) gardens furnish pleasure and comfort to us . . ..” There was a similar sentiment expressed in a 1954 Sioux County Capital article: “Tulip beds throughout town are blazing with color and the blooms will be at their peak, for festival visitors and camera-fans’ delight.”

The 75th Tulip Festival was held in 2015 and, conspicuously, there was a joyful emphasis on a specific color. Brett and Nora Mulder, owners at the time of Mulder’s Tulip Town Bulb Company, spearheaded a campaign that featured six different, orange- colored tulips. “We’re hoping for four-plus weeks of orange,” said Brett optimistically.

Major tulip beds not only populated parks and bedecked the Sioux County Courthouse, but also stood proud in the landscape of businesses and private homes. In 2015, as well as most years, tulips appear in Orange City like joy arrives in a life well lived—in abundance.

You might like to know about John William Ter Horst, Orange City’s “Tulip Planting Man.” Better known as Bill, he was born in 1909 and, as a young man, worked for local farmers. He pulled weeds, milked cows and picked corn but, most of all, Bill became known for planting tulips, in 1942, he joined the US Army and served as an aerial gunner. Bill was involved in ten different air campaigns taking him to Algiers, French Morocco, Rome, Southern France, Normandy, the Balkans, Rhineland and Northern France. He earned ten Bronze Stars and twice was given the Air Force Presidential Unit Citation. Unfortunately, when Bill returned to Iowa, he also had post- traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which might be an indication why tulips were important for Bill, perhaps even a solace. After the war, Bill lived in southern California through most winters, where he assisted Dutch American farmers, then rode a bus back to Orange City, where he lived up to his nickname. The Tulip Planting Man died at the ageof 85 and was buried in his Army uniform. Do tulips deliver joy? I suspect that John Wiliam Ter Horst would quietly answer, “Yes.”

Love

Much like peace and joy, love abounds during Tulip Festival. To say more about love, I’ll share a story about one of the early Tulip Festival Queens. Her name is Helen Beyer and on May 14, 1948, as she stood on a Tulip Festival stage and looked over the assembled crowd, she might have thought back on the recently concluded war. If so, surely the bright faces of three young men would have come to mind.

First, there was her brother, Glenn, who enlisted in the U.S. Army in the winter of 1941, took part in the Battle of Corregidor the following year, and was captured. After more than a year of communication silence, Glenn’s parents in Orange City received a typewritten card that said Glenn was alive and in fair health in a Japanese prisoner of war camp. Time passed. Then, on October 24, 1944, Glenn was among the prisoners of war on a Japanese transport ship that was mistakenly sunk by US bombers. Glenn perished at sea.

Second, Helen may have thought about her adopted brother, Robert Malish, who came to live with the Beyer family when he was a teenager. After six years with the Beyers, Robert enlisted in the U.S. Army, as Glenn had done. Robert was sent to Sicily, where he was wounded in action, recovered and promptly returned to active duty. Then, amid heavy fighting, Robert was injured again. Due to a bomb blast, Robert’s leg was ultimately amputated and, as a result, he suffered through months of surgeries and physical therapy.

Third, Helen’s mind might have turned to another brother, Ken, who was full of enthusiasm for life. Previously in the Tulip Festival parades, Ken played the largest instrument of all, a tuba on which he fastened a cloth across the bell which proclaimed his name, “Ken B.” Like his brothers, Ken joined the war effort but, perhaps because Glenn had become a POW, Ken developed a covert communication plan with his parents. On a world map, Ken marked various sites with a capital letter, such as G for Guam and O for Okinawa. According tothe plan, when Ken wrote to his parents, he would secretly disclose his location through the middle initial on the envelope addressed to his father. In other words, if Ken was deployed in Guam, the envelope would be addressed to “Gerritt G. Beyer” and if Ken’s location was Palau, the envelope would read “Gerrit P. Beyer.” In time, Ken took part in the Battle of Okinawa. Amid combat, Ken was shot. A bullet entered his chest and passed entirely through his body, but he survived.

Now consider again Queen Helen Beyer as she stood on a Tulip Festival stage and looked over the faces turned toward her. Perhaps she thought of her three brothers as well as seventeen other young men from the community who lost their lives in World War II. Those fellas could have avoided military service and remained in Sioux County, going out on dates and living it up in the prime of their lives, but they chose otherwise, which is why I think they represent a special type of love that is present at Tulip Festival.

Love is all around during the festival. Romantic love, of course, and, if you look, you’ll find public displays of affection in abundance that illustrate my point. If you have a romantic partner and are considering what to do on an upcoming date, why not join the crowd at Tulip Festival? Countless happy marriages started that way, or so they say. In addition, there is the love of family and friends flowing through the festival. You’ll see it on the face of a mother buying Wilhelmina peppermints for her daughter-in law. Likewise, you’ll hear it in the fearless reply to the question, “Will you ride on the Tilt-a-Whirl with me.” Personally speaking, the love of family and friends draws me to OrangeCity in May even though I live more than one thousand miles away, and I never regret the trip.

Still, there’s another type of love to be found during Tulip Festival that is distinct from the others and is characterized by generosity or even selflessness. That’s why I mentioned Queen Helen Beyer’s brothers. Many people think of wartime service as an expression of self-giving love, and I have little doubt that Helen thought of her three brothers in exactly that way. This type of love is woven into the fabric of Tulip Festival, although it is often indetectable. That’s because selfless love is ordinarily expressed behind the scenes and out of sight. Where does selfless love hold out in Orange City?

Here’s a down-to-earth answer: you will encounter selfless love among Steering Committee volunteers who design upcoming Festivals. They forgo billable hours at their jobs to sit through tedious planning meetings, often late into the night. Why? Because they want Tulip Festival, which is already one of Iowa’s longest-running fairs, to continue far into the future. And why do they want Tulip Festival to continue? Because it does so much good!

Various forms of selflessness motivate additional volunteers, including church stand cooks, Dutch dance instructors and Night Show actors. Regarding the Night Show, do you realize how much time it takes to put on a musical? I think the best answer is to say that it takes a selfless amount of time.

On top of that, each year there is a money exchange that takes place, often anonymously. No one organizes the exchange, and it’s not listed in a brochure anywhere, but it goes something like this. Free carnival ride tickets are handed to children, producing shrieks of glee. Or meals of pea soup and ham sandwiches are casually paid for by generous givers. I can assure you; love abounds at Tulip Festival.

So, there you have it. This is my simple answer to a weighty question. What stands out from all the Tulip Festival fun? It’s peace, joy and love!

+ + + + + + +

This essay was written by Edward H. Schreur, copyright 2025. All photos and historical details were taken from the Nelva Mae Schreur Tulip Festival Archives.