It’s a Small Town, After All {31 Days: Day 23}

Sometimes a town is a blessing. The ubiquitous everyone always knows your name, your family, your concerns.

Sometimes a small town is a curse. The ubiquitous everyone always knows your name, your family, your concerns.

There’s no hiding that you got pulled over for speeding because everyone knows the van with the peeling paint is yours.

There’s no hiding when you’re almost out of diapers and it’s not quite payday and someone who knows your size and brand leaves an anonymous package in that well-known van when it’s in the church parking lot.

There’s no hiding certain unmentionables at the grocery store because both the clerk and the bag boy sat through your seventh grade literature class four years ago.

There’s no hiding that bad day when you just need a little mercy in the line at McDonald’s.

But, generally? I’d have to say it’s a blessing. There’s no need to explain sometimes that you just need a little extra love because everyone knows about the hospital stay or the new baby or that you just might lose your mind because you agreed to direct a show at the community theater at Christmas after a fall that makes the calendar itself beg for mercy.

I love the connections of small towns. It’s always some twisted route that starts with high school or church or a hometown committee and leads to the realization that you know people in circles that overlap and intertwine and build community that’s tight and strong and knit together because we share culture and values and a love for the heritage of this place.

Like when I realized that the sweet teenager who brought her little sister to audition for my show is a friend of my great-aunt’s because Aunt Wanslie was president of the Garden Club and the Garden Club has been a supporter of Sarah’s art since she started years ago before I even moved my family over here.

Yeah, that’s small town.

Tomorrow I’m profiling a local artist, Sarah Samsel. She makes beauty out of pieces others would call trash, or compost, at the very least.