by Julie Carter
Small town America: an icon of Americana that stirs memories
of simpler lives, simpler times.
Many of us are still blessed to live near or in one of those
little towns. More still have memories of “that’s where they came from
originally.” People that are born, raised and live in metropolis areas don’t
know what they have missed!
Everyone waves at everyone and it’s not an obscene gesture.
(Styles of waving is another story for another day). The wave doesn’t need to
mean you know who you are waving at; it is just the friendly nature of the local
folks. They wave in town and they wave on the highway leaving
town.
The local bank president moonlights as a ranch hand on
weekends when his family works cattle. He runs a branding iron or drags calves
to the fire right along with the hands that do it for a living. He’s a third
generation rancher that ended up with a suit and a tie job.
Signing a ticket in most towns means the Visa or MasterCard
part of the sale. In small towns, it’s a charge ticket at the hardware store
and only requires stating “this is for old so and so and they told me to put it
on a ticket for them.”
Getting directions is often a challenge in asking the right
questions. Most locals will answer in terms requiring knowledge and a memory of
at least the last 25 years.
“You make a turn out there by the old Smith House and then go
down that road until you have to turn that corner where those kids wrecked their
car that time, then it’s not far past that.” Using “the stop light” as a
reference point is not uncommon.
The UPS man knows your phone number by heart and is able to
follow the instructions mentioned in the last paragraph. He will call you and
tell you he left a package for you at the hardware store and who it was from in
case it is something you urgently need.
You know who is in town by the cars parked at the post office
and the courthouse. If you don’t run into them there, they’ll be at lunch in
one of the few eating spots in town. You never eat out without having a catch
visit with someone you haven’t seen in a while.
Most of the vehicles on the street still have their keys in
them. The doors will be open and you can leave your neighbor that dreaded sack
of “extra” zucchini he’s been dodging for a weeks.
The manager of the grocery store can be seen pushing a cart
down the aisle filling an order for someone that called it in. If something you
need isn’t on the shelf by brand name or kind, tell him and he’ll get it in the
next shipment.
Rural youth organizations like 4-H and FFA are a big part of
most kids’ lives and everyone in town knows about it. The graduating class is
small enough to fit in two Suburbans for a trip. Homecoming is a big deal and
school sports are the center of most of the winter conversations in town.
Merchants know you, know your children, and know where to
find you if your children are looking for you. The police station in town is not
a scary place since the chief has school children; he’s a familiar face to the
kids.
Small town America. Where the kids can’t wait to grow up and
get away. Then they spend most their lives wishing they were back in that simple
life among people who really care about each other. It’s that caring familiar
attitude that draws those leaving cities to come among us.
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