I was raised in a small town in Southwest Arkansas that, at the time, had one red light, which we (appropriately enough) called “THE red light.” It’s a place where having to wait for more than two cars at the 4 way stop is considered rush hour. And I can assure you, that to this day my Dad will do everything he can to avoid rush hour at the Courthouse Square. It’s a place where you don’t really ever have to take your children into a clinic, because you can just call your family doctor for a phone diagnosis. To this day I feel so out of place at the pediatricians office….like somehow we’re “above” being there….trust me, I know how that sounds. It’s a place where people know your business and they care about your business. A place where you can ask pretty much anyone for help and assume they are going to give it to you and that brings me to my “you can take the girl out of the small town but you can’t take the small town out of the girl” story.
One afternoon a couple of weeks ago, as the temperatures rose into the 30s and the sun was shining I had an overwhelming need to just be outside so I decided to go for a run. I wasn’t even sure if it was possible because there was so much snow and ice still on the ground, and yet I know of lots of people (crazy people, of course) who run outside all year long so I decided to give it a try. Coulter promptly told me that if I left him home alone, the police would arrest me (which is a whole other blog and please let me assure you I wasn’t going to leave him home alone!) So, I dusted off the jogging stroller, bundled up Emma Claire, sent Coulter to the neighbor’s (because, well, a 4 yr. old riding a bike on snow and ice seemed like a bad idea) and we were off. Emma Claire loved it. You could almost feel the vitamin D seeping into our skin and reviving our winter weary souls. It was perfect until, BOOM! Somewhere toward the end of the 2nd mile, unbeknownst to me, Emma Claire dropped her pacifier and within minutes we were in crisis mode. I could just feel the judgment oozing out as people drove by, turning their heads to get a closer look at the neglected child who was crying and obviously freezing and miserable. I expected at any minute someone from social services would show up and start questioning me. I didn’t know what to do except run faster when suddenly the Gas Stop came into view so I decided to get her a sucker. After all, if there is anything better than a pacifier, it’s a pacifier made out of sugar! I had no money, (of course I had no money, I mean, if I’d had money this would hardly be a story worth telling,) but I had something better; I had a screaming child and a small town confidence that the Gas Stop people would do the right thing. And they did.
Some of you might think it’s strange to walk into a store without money and expect any service. And, you would probably laugh if I told you that I once asked the Hy Vee manager to hold my groceries in their fridge until after church because I had run out of time to get them home…. which he did. Another “small town quirk” that baffles my husband is that we (read: My mother!) used to tape coins to our mail in lieu of postage. I was almost in college and attending piano camp in Georgia before I realized that not using stamps is frowned upon. And I only discovered it then because, strangely enough, none of my mail reached its Arkansas destination.
The truth is Sioux Falls bears little resemblance to the small town where I grew up. But in the 10 years (gulp!) that we’ve lived here, I think we have built a city within a city; a “small-ish” town where people know me and they know my family. At the end of the day, that’s what I need for my children; a community that knows and a community that cares (well, that and a family doctor that doesn’t require us to wait in the lobby.) The Gas Stop dude cared for us (o.k., some might suggest he was actually scared of the crazy moneyless mom,) but I’m going to go with the caring. For that afternoon I was able to pretend that I was living in a small town again and for that, I’m grateful.
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