I went on a bike ride today, in Southwestern Illinois. The ride went thru several small towns. They were beautiful! There is nothing quite like a small town. They are so quaint. Each has it's own personality, yet different in many ways. There is always main street; the local favorite hangout, the local tavern, a gas station and perhaps even a flashing red light. One of the stops on the bike ride was at the local tavern, you see it was probably the only thing open on Sunday. I overheard a conversation between a mother and her small child. The child said to her mother, "Mommie, what's a tavern?" The mother replied, "It's an old time bar." I couldn't help but walk into it myself. What could possibly be going in there? I walked in and there seated at the bar were several older gentlemen in their overalls, sipping beer at 10:00, in Venedy, Illinois, population 400 people. I gave this a lot of thought the rest of the day. What could they possibly be discussing, so intently? And didn't they have anything better to do on a Sunday morning? As we rode along the back roads of Southwestern Illinois, I couldn't help but notice, that none of the fields had been planted? What's up with that? It's late April, shouldn't the corn, wheat or soybeans be planted? My guess is that the topic of conversation at the local tavern was about just this? Local farmers discussing their plight.
Sadly, I think the small town way of life is disappearing from our culture. Drive down any main street USA and you can't help but notice. There are always, abandoned buildings. Whatever happened to the local dime store? Or the hometown newspaper? Or the local barber shop? The local restaurant has been replaced by a Subway. You see, I am from a small town, Grayville Illinois, population 2,100. My graduating class consisted of a whole 28 students. I find it amusing these days, to tell people that I was third in my class, then tell them how many actual students there were. Now don't laugh, a lot of us went on to be successful . I actually went to the small high school as my grandparents, parents, brothers, niece and nephews and not my great niece and nephews. And yes, we had only one flashing red light.
Today, I live in St. Louis Missouri. There are days, that I wonder. What if, I had not grown up there? Would my life be any different? Truthfully, I wouldn't change a thing. Growing up in a small town gave me endless opportunities. Where else, can you throw hedge apples and get away with it? Or graduate from a high school, where you can still keep in touch with fifty percent of your class? I can't help but mention the annually Grayville Days Celebration. For two days out of the year, main street it closed. The streets are filled with carnival rides, pork burgers, an ice cream social. Has anyone ever been to one of these? Homemade ice cream with deserts made by the ladies at the local Christian church...awesome. Here's another one, you've probably never heard of (and probably don't want to). It's called Bessie Bingo. A field is marked off in squares, tickets sold per square and Bessie the cow let loose to do what cows do. The winner is the lucky individual who is lucky enough to have picked the square where Bessie took a crap? Don't laugh too hard, my nephew actually won the grand prized one year, a thousand bucks!
I don't get back there much these days. Both my parents have passed away. My dad about two years ago. It broke my heart the day, I handed over the keys to the new owners. It was my childhood home. The only home my parents knew for almost fifty years of marriage. The place I called home for over forty years. I miss that house, there is no place like home and now it's gone. You grow up, go to college and set out to make a life of your own. But somehow, you always return to what is familiar. I know that today, the iris and peonies are blooming in my parent's yard. I remember sitting for hours in the porch swing, just talking to my Mom and drinking ice tea. She always knew what to say, never judgemental and always encouraging.
So tonight, I am melancholy, I guess. What else would you call it, when you are homesick and home is gone?
Sadly, I think the small town way of life is disappearing from our culture. Drive down any main street USA and you can't help but notice. There are always, abandoned buildings. Whatever happened to the local dime store? Or the hometown newspaper? Or the local barber shop? The local restaurant has been replaced by a Subway. You see, I am from a small town, Grayville Illinois, population 2,100. My graduating class consisted of a whole 28 students. I find it amusing these days, to tell people that I was third in my class, then tell them how many actual students there were. Now don't laugh, a lot of us went on to be successful . I actually went to the small high school as my grandparents, parents, brothers, niece and nephews and not my great niece and nephews. And yes, we had only one flashing red light.
Today, I live in St. Louis Missouri. There are days, that I wonder. What if, I had not grown up there? Would my life be any different? Truthfully, I wouldn't change a thing. Growing up in a small town gave me endless opportunities. Where else, can you throw hedge apples and get away with it? Or graduate from a high school, where you can still keep in touch with fifty percent of your class? I can't help but mention the annually Grayville Days Celebration. For two days out of the year, main street it closed. The streets are filled with carnival rides, pork burgers, an ice cream social. Has anyone ever been to one of these? Homemade ice cream with deserts made by the ladies at the local Christian church...awesome. Here's another one, you've probably never heard of (and probably don't want to). It's called Bessie Bingo. A field is marked off in squares, tickets sold per square and Bessie the cow let loose to do what cows do. The winner is the lucky individual who is lucky enough to have picked the square where Bessie took a crap? Don't laugh too hard, my nephew actually won the grand prized one year, a thousand bucks!
I don't get back there much these days. Both my parents have passed away. My dad about two years ago. It broke my heart the day, I handed over the keys to the new owners. It was my childhood home. The only home my parents knew for almost fifty years of marriage. The place I called home for over forty years. I miss that house, there is no place like home and now it's gone. You grow up, go to college and set out to make a life of your own. But somehow, you always return to what is familiar. I know that today, the iris and peonies are blooming in my parent's yard. I remember sitting for hours in the porch swing, just talking to my Mom and drinking ice tea. She always knew what to say, never judgemental and always encouraging.
So tonight, I am melancholy, I guess. What else would you call it, when you are homesick and home is gone?
