Small town America

"Well, I was born in a small town,
And I can breathe in a small town"
Small town ~ John Mellencamp

While I only just lamented about how Americans do not appear to know or care how to bake good bread, I do honestly have to give them kudos for something they are really good at: building quaint little towns. And after having biked hundreds and hundreds of miles through the Georgia countryside, and making my way through dozens of small towns, one cuter than the other, I can attest that the above statement is a fact.

I will in fact argue that your quintessential American small town is by far more quaint than any European town.
I know. I'm feeling ballsy today.
Interestingly, I also believe that what in my opinion is one of the worst American inventions is responsible for that: the strip mall. You see, while most European towns are truly the epitome of adorable, they also don't have strip malls. This means that the Prisunic, the Hema, the Kaufland, and the Boots (think K-Mart, Target, Walmart, and CVS, in that order), instead of being relegated to the outskirts of town (to, you know, a stripmall), are built right smack inside that pretty historic downtown. And while sometimes they do use the original buildings, they still strip most of the outside, insert over-sized windows and large gaudy signs, and generally do their very best to take away as much of the quaintness as possible.

On the other hand, large chain stores in the US tend to move to strip malls on the outskirts of the little town, where there's plenty of room to sprawl, lots of parking, and no historical/zoning committees to raise up a battle cry. Consequently, American historic districts are usually left alone, and small American towns still appear to look the way they did fifty years ago. The houses are set back from the street a good thirty, forty feet, have old-fashioned clapboard, and every single one is completely unique. Crape myrtles line the driveways, azeleas and wisteria spill over on to the ubiquitous front porch, and there's always a tire swing suspended from a large pecan tree somewhere. Every street has sidewalks, there's a single railroad track that cuts through town, and at least one of the little shop buildings sells bait and tackle, while another one is a pawnstore. A small town is never complete without a Methodist church with a white spire, a baptist church with a small brick elementary school in the back, and a gas station with a convenience store where all the daily laborers gather for their morning coffee.  The towns are never much more than a few miles across, and around here, they're always surrounded by pecan groves, rows and rows of peach trees, or now empty cotton fields.

I love the little small towns around here. I love seeing all the different houses from my bike. I love how people notice you and wave. And I still remember the one little girl on her brand new pink bike complete with pink streamers and pink training wheels, who pointed at me riding by, and exclaimed, "Oh wow, Daddy, look! She has only two wheels!"

Whenever husband-dear and I think about retiring, we talk about moving to a small town. One where people hold annual street parties and go Christmas caroling. One where your neighbors don't move every four or five years, one where directions involve convenience stores instead of silly subdivision names. One where people don't have time to be a bible-thumper or political zealot because they've got other, more important things to do, like harvesting pecans or volunteering at the local animal shelter. But most of all, one where people know one another, and you're not just "the people with the red car" or "the neighbors who run all the time".

Every once in a while, though, I'm reminded that maybe I don't need to wait until retirement for that small town feeling. This morning, right before I was about to jump into the base pool, I ran into the same girl I have been running into every Friday morning for the past month. We had finally introduced ourselves last week, and today we exchanged pleasantries, as she asked to share my lane. Then I saw Dee who works are our local running store through the window and waved.
"Hi Dee!" My swimming buddy called out as Dee entered the pool area.
"You know her?" I asked.
"Sure, I do." swimming buddy said, and asked Dee, "How's your shoulder?"
"It's much better." Dee turned to me, "And how about you? Are you ready for the racing season?"
She turned to my swimming buddy, "My husband is doing the same races they're doing. So I'm coming to cheer them all on. Are you going?"
Then as the girl in the next lane stopped to talk to my swimming buddy, and asked me if I was interested in joining our town's swim team, it hit me.

I already live in a small town. It may not look the part, there may not be any cute houses, or sidewalks, or a whiff of a historic district, but when you're with the right people, you are a part of a small-town community.

And I like it.