Very few people in this country live in small towns. For the most part, Americans are city dwellers, and they tolerate the aggravations in order to embrace the opportunities offered. According to the US Census, about 80% of us live in a metropolitan area, leaving vast open spaces for the other 20% who embrace a different lifestyle altogether.
Small town life is lived at a different, although not necessarily slower, pace. To be clear, Mayberry does not exist any more, if it ever did. With the internet and cell phones, the differences are rapidly fading, leaving us more and more like our city cousins all the time. So why, then, do some people choose this differently paced life of the rural village? What is the benefit of being so far from everything the majority value most highly?
The answer is easy, at least for me. Many of the qualities which made small town living special do still persist in the little burgs dotted across the landscape of the more rural areas in this nation. And those are the qualities that add value to my existence.
Small towns are personal. I know the local police chief, as most everyone does, I know the bank people, the grocery store people (although not the owners, as they are... outsiders.) I know the history of my house, and more than I would like to about the people who lived here before. I run into my classmates parents at the grocery store, I see my relatives in church every Sunday, I have supper (not dinner in this neck of the woods) with my mom every Wednesday, and I am familiar with all the business owners up and down the street.
Small towns still espouse the values I grew up with, although that is changing. When I was a child, the life of the town revolved around the church and the school. Sunday attendance was mandatory, not just to hear The Word, but to hear the word. It was a way to connect with our neighbors, a way to learn about what was happening in our own little piece of the universe, a way to connect with each other one on one and find out who needed what and how everyone was faring. Coffee and dessert were the backdrop to the discussion that occurred around the tables, and the problems of the world were sorted out amid amiable discussion amongst like minded folks whose main priorities matched ours.
Small town people are grounded, and I don't mean the corny, folksy shtick you see on Green Acres. We understand and depend on the farm economy to keep going, and the price of corn or beans isn't so much a vague number as an important gauge of how well our town will do in the next year. When prices go down, things will be more sparse on the ground for everyone from the grocery store to the hardware store to the clothing store to the church. Those numbers jumping up and down don't translate into a few cents at the store for us. They mean the difference between success and failure for the whole town. Reality is harsher when viewed through clear glass, and we are crystal clear out here.
We eat meat, and most people around here either hunt, or are closely related to those who do. It is hypocritical, from our point of view, to discuss how wrong hunting is while picking out a juicy steak wrapped up in plastic at the grocery store. People are born carnivores, and while I respect those who make alternative choices for themselves, I also respect the majority who eat meat because it is a healthy and necessary component in the human diet. While most of us love animals, in fact, many rural people choose to keep them as a source of pleasure (dogs, cats, horses,) we also have an understanding that animals are food. We are at the top of the food chain, and that probably isn't going to change. At least we shouldn't be hypocritical about it all.
For all that we see every day on the news, Facebook and other media sources, there is nothing like a small town for public exposure. It is impossible to be anyone other than yourself when you know the grandparents of the person who lives across the street. (My mother's oldest friend's grandson lives in the house across from me. My mom played with his grandmother when they were little girls running up and down the gravel road to each other's houses.) If you miss church, people ask your mom where you were. If you are sick, people get to know about it. When someone dies, everyone turns up for the visitation, as much to see people they haven't seen in awhile as to visit with the family of the dearly departed. When you are having troubles in your life, there is no point in trying to hide it, because everyone will eventually know anyway.
And that is not a terrible thing. Because the flip side of the lack of privacy is the abundance of care that goes along with it. As anyone who has ever been the recipient of a fundraiser can tell you, people turn out to help in small towns. If someone has an accident, a way will be found to get you to the doctor, and food will be on your table. If there is a baby, there will be toys and clothes, even if you cannot afford them. When a child has cancer, tens of thousands will be raised to help you cover your expenses, and you will be asked, over and over again, not whether you used the money wisely, but whether you and your family have enough to get by. Weddings are a celebration for everyone, and when you buy a new house, the whole neighborhood will hear the news before the ink is dry on the purchase offer. People are pulling for you in a small town, in a way I never experienced in all the years I lived in a city.
As the world around us is changing, small towns are changing as well. Our unique culture is teetering on the verge of irrelevancy as television and social media blur the lines of reality and altered truth. Church is no longer the center of small town life, and even school is fading as competitive and traveling teams take over much of the youth activities. The lack of opportunity for jobs takes people away, many never to return, except for a visit on holidays or in the summer. Our economy is more stagnant than in the city, and it is much closer to the earth.
Last night I attended our local county fair. It was a pleasure to see the multitude of 4-H projects prepared by the kids of the small towns around my area, the same kinds of projects I worked on 40 years ago. It was a reminder to me that small town ways are not entirely lost, and the things that I value are still important in this little corner of the world. Children are still learning to cook and sew and create engines and raise animals just like they did back when I was young, and they will continue to bring the world forward as we embrace the future.
I am glad that kids are still learning about hands on work. A service economy depends on hands on the other side of the globe to create our consumer goods, but when something goes wrong, it will be our local person we call. I am relieved to know there will still be a few people who know how to install plumbing and fix electrical problems, and to cook and create and grow.
I appreciate much about what city life provides. I miss having my choice of WalMart or Target a few minutes away, and I don't like the lower wages and higher prices of my small town existence.
But in coming home to my own small town, I have rediscovered the things which matter most to me - family, comfortable values and peace. That is what small town life has always been about for me, and that has not changed.
We may not be Mayberry. I don't actually think we ever were. We are so much more, and we are genuine and real. Visit a small town, get to know the people. Rose Fest (one of two annual town festivals) is next weekend. Come and find out what we are all about. You may find you want to pull up your life and stay awhile.
