I cannot count the times I've complained - "You can't sling a dead cat around here without hitting someone who knows your business." In the town where I come from, everyone moves in the same circles. And believe me, they are small circles. So no way did you keep a secret. In fact, it would generally beat you home...like a stray cat that just wouldn't ever leave. I hated it. No secrets, no way to avoid the friend who hurt your feelings, the boy who broke your heart, or the cousin you didn't invite to the wedding. Nope, not in our town.
When I was a kid, I could not walk more than half a mile in any direction without hitting a relative. Or a concerned neighbor. Or someone who went to church with us. In most cases, it was a combination of those choices. Needless to say, that neighborhood made it tough to do anything Momma and Daddy wouldn't find out about. Want to sneak off to meet someone? Oh, I don't think so. Aunt Edna's right there. Going to sneak down to the creek without permission? Not likely, with the Jordan's driving by all the time. Heck, I couldn 't have run away from home without at least a dozen neighbors reporting my progress (and probably what I was wearing) before I hit the Figsboro General Store. Honestly, it just wasn't worth the trouble.
And school was no better. There were those who thought being the youngest by alot of years provided me some annonymity in school. No brothers or sisters to tattle. Yeah right. My third grade teacher went to school with my sister. My fourth grade teacher lived in the neighborhood. Our art teacher, yep, went to school with my brother. And the bus driver? A distant cousin by marriage, of course. If I had acted out, misbehaved or messed up in any way, I'd have had to make up my excuses in advance; the news would beat me home. High school was no better. People from church were there. And of course, again, my brothers and sisters had preceded me. I had a cousin who was a teacher there, too. There was no escape. I longed for escape. I graduated. And went to community college. Oh, yeah, that helped. Now I had escaped family ties - I met up with school ties. You never shake your school life...somehow, someone from your past will follow you forever. They'll remember the boys you dated, and never got the chance to. They'll remind you of your successes and your failures. There are no do overs at home. No mulligans from your past. I must have had to grind my teeth a million times when someone said "Didn't you go to Laurel Park? My best friend in school was...remember her?" Or, "Didn't you go to Spring Street Baptist Church? My aunt is..." And the worst was, "Hey, your last name is Draper? Are you related to? " Guilty, every time. All I could think was "When I get out of this town, I swear, I will be so happy. No one to say "I know your (Insert family member here)." Or to stand by you in a bar and say "Oh hey, there's What's-His-Name! Didn't you used to date him before he met (Insert Equally Annoying Female Name Here)."
By thirty, I felt like I was either related to, went to church with, or went to school with every human being in my home town. (I am still relatively sure that while it was not 100% of the town, it is an alarmingly high percentage.) There was no escape. Go out to dinner, there's the girl in high school who beat you out for the lead in the school play. Hit the town festival, oops, there's that boy who pulled your hair in elementary school. And for heaven's sake - don't go to Walmart - it's like a family reunion in there!!! They were like zombies - crawling out from everywhere. And for those of you taking notes - divorce does not help. Now, there were his friends and my friends and our friends - and every variation of that theme. Who to talk to that wouldn't run back and tell him everything? Who was talking to you just to get the dirt. The corners of that small town were curling up at the corners and closing in fast. I was amazed by the constant whirlwind of the town gossip. Who was he dating? Who was I dating? Why did we split up? What would we do now? Was it my fault? Was it his? That dead cat just kept slamming into someone who knew me, who knew him, who knew just enough to be a link in the chain. And it was frustrating and painful and everyday, I wished I could be from somewhere bigger. From somewhere that didn't know me so well. That didn't know my whole family. That didn't know my whole life. Somewhere that wasn't such a small town.
Enter the next phase of my life. I moved. I moved - got married - shook up the snow globe. All of a sudden, there I was, in a town that didn't know a thing about me. No relatives next door. No school mates at work. No ex husband's friends working at the bank, at the dry cleaner, at the registrar's office. Annonymity. I went to work - no one knew a thing about me. We went to dinner - not a soul to run into that we knew from...anywhere. Just what I wanted, right? Right. I can go to the liquor store without running into Cousin whomever. No girls I went to school with at the hair salon to see how bad I look before she covers the grey. Not a single interrupting on my weekly Target visits. Life is good. Right?
Until you need them. You see, when your life is sailing along, and you have clear seas and smooth sailing, you might notice the waves lapping at the boat and say "Wow - that's loud" But when you're a hundred miles out - and the waves stop - wait, what? Who's gonna carry me to shore? Small towns are gossipy and everyone knows everyone and it's impossible to blend in. OK - now, the other interpretation? Small towns welcome you and want to know about you as a person and care what happens to you. Relatives and friends take the time to know what's good and bad in your world and they care. They remind you of your successes when you might forget. They mention your failures so you know you got through them, and you will again. They pick you up, dust you off. They defend you when you need it. They are a soft place to fall. You will never lose your true friends in a small town. You will still shop together. You'll have time for lunch now and then. You'll get to watch their kids grow up. And they will be there for you. Small towns HAVE town festivals, where every one takes part - where your school friends still perform live, where you know the girls selling beer tickets, and usually, you brought a cake for the sale. You'll probably run into your third grade teacher there, and yes, she'll remember your name, and tell whomever you're with how wonderful you were. And that trip to Walmart? If you drop your gloves in the parking lot, Cousin Whoever will pick them up and yell across the rows to you so you get them back. Small towns have their very own charm like a comfortable pair of shoes, or your favorite pair of worn out jeans - memories of good times and bad, mingled with the softness of time.
And small towns will guide you through the hard times. They will be there for your marriage - your baby shower - your divorce. They will hold fast with you when you bury a family pet, a relationship, a family member. They still cook food for you when someone is born or someone dies. They stop by to check on you when you're sick. They will call a friend of a friend to put in a good word if you lose your job. They don't mind checking on your Mama if you can't. They are there. They are community - they are a close knit family. Maybe they gossip - maybe they know too much. But on that day, when you ride in the family car, you'll see they still burn their headlights and pull to the side of the road for a funeral procession. And you'll be thankful, and a little homesick, for a small town.
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