Small Towns

I live in a small town. The 2023 census showed the population of our town at 1405. A good portion of those 1405 people are related to me. Our entire county, which stretches 1302 miles, only has a total population of just over 118,000. Let me put that in perspective for you. New York City covers a mere 468 miles and has 8.4 million people living within its borders.

Growing up, I never really thought about the fact that I lived in a small town. It was all I knew. I thought everyone lived in an area like I did. But I grew up, started my career, stretched my wings, and met hundreds (maybe thousands?) of people. During that process, I learned that most people don’t live in a rural area like I do. Living in my little town is the exception to the rule.

So, what does that mean? It means my day to day life looks very different from many of my friends and family who live in and near big cities. There are things here I see on the daily, that you aren’t going to see in places like NYC, Atlanta, SanDiego, Toronto, and many of the other cities I’ve traveled to. 

For instance, a few weeks ago I saw two young men driving lawn mowers across the parking lot of a Dollar General. In fact, I had to brake for them as I entered the parking lot. Were they mowing? Heck, no! The machines they were riding didn’t even have mower decks on them. They were clearly using the mowers as a mode of transportation. Speeding along at five miles per hour. They crossed the Dollar General parking lot and headed into the parking lot of an auto repair shop. Maybe they worked there and were reporting for their shift. Or perhaps they were journeying beyond that shop, cutting across parking lots instead of venturing out on the road.

Speaking of roads, ours look a lot different than city highways. They’re single lanes running in each direction, some paved, but some just oil and stone. Some have painted lines, but many have none. Horse excrement frequently lines the edges of our roads, a decoration left behind courtesy of horses pulling Amish buggies. My husband calls it “Amish exhaust”. I love seeing the buggies, carrying a slew of little ones piled in with their parents; girls dressed in their bonnets and dresses, boys in their long-sleeve button-up shirts, suspenders, and straw hats. And the bare feet. The Amish must have the toughest feet this side of the Mississippi. When I visit the stands where they sell their wares, the women and children will come running across the lawn in their bare feet. I don’t think shoes are used until the snow falls.

Amish homesteads aside, technology has finally reached our little neck of the woods, high-speed internet via cable arriving the past decade or so. I don’t miss the days when we had only satellite internet for high-speed options. Gone are the days of throwing on a coat and boots and wading through the snow with a broom to clean off the satellite dish to get a better signal. Technology has provided us with things like local Facebook community sites that share reports of missing chickens, goats, pigs, and most recently some wayward emus.

Transportation is quite different in small towns too, even if you don’t count those utilizing lawn mowers to get around. I remember having a conversation with a coworker who lived in a metropolitan area, and my shock when they said they didn’t own a vehicle. Public transportation was so prevalent, and parking areas so limited where they were, that a car would be more of a burden than a blessing. I had trouble wrapping my mind around this. Where I live, we’re at the DMV the day we turn sixteen (driving age here), getting our learner’s permit. It’s a rite of passage. Although the reality is that many have driven tractors, UTVs, and such, long before they can legally drive a car or truck. Without wheels in this area, you’re literally going nowhere. Stores, entertainment options, medical facilities, restaurants, are all too far away to walk to. I mean, unless you head out the day before, have strong legs, lots of stamina, and no fear of total darkness. Yeah, no street lights in these parts.

A lower residential footprint also means more wildlife. Like the frustrating wild turkey who keeps hammering its head into our basement window. We’ve tried convincing it that it's only seeing its reflection in the window, not another turkey, but alas he’s not getting our message. Driving in this area also requires the ability to see and miss the wildlife that shares our roads. I won’t go into gory detail, but I’ll tell you that unfortunately it’s been a banner year for roadkill.

As I pause typing and look out my window, I see only trees, now dressed in their fiery fall colors, interspersed with evergreens. No buildings. No concrete. No highway noise. No people. It’s only solitude and peace. So I guess I’ll take living in a small town any day, I truly can’t imagine it any other way.

Until next time, love on each other, be kind, and be thankful for all you have,