I was raised in a small town. Everyone knew (and still knows) everyone, and most of their business as well. When I visit my family, who still lives there, a trip to the local Kroger often turns into a reunion of people I've known since grade school or before. Just recently, I ran into my old American History teacher at my mother's physical therapy office. He not only remembered my name, but the names of the girls I hung out with and asked after them, too.
In the town I come from, people give directions like, "go to where the old K-Mart was, and turn right." When I was growing up, the major point of attraction in town was the old K-Mart. When the southern heat got too much to bear late in the summer, the local news station would advise those with small children and the elderly to go to K-Mart so they could be in the air conditioning. There were two grocery stores, one on either side of town. And most people didn't live "in town"--they had to drive anywhere from fifteen minutes to half an hour to get to whatever grocery store they were closest to. There were only two or three "fancy" restaurants, and on prom night, you could bet they were full.
The biggest event of the year in the small town I grew up in is an outdoor fall festival held in the fall. I just did the math, and realized that this fall would mark my 20th festival. As a child, I went with my Girl Scout troop and the main focus was getting our faces painted and eating cotton candy--pink has always been my favorite. As a teenager, it was no longer cool to go with your Scout troop--instead, we all paired up with boys we didn't really like just so we'd have someone to hold hands with and share a bag of cotton candy. While I was in college, I went with my mom and dad. The main focus shifted to the joy of getting to run into people I'd grown up with, now that I had moved away to attend school. Oh, and eating cotton candy. Now, I go with my mom and my husband, and I still run into people I grew up with (who are there with their moms and husbands), and I still eat pink cotton candy. What can I say? Some things will never change.
When I was a teenager, my small town grew a little--the old K-Mart was torn down, and replaced with a Super Wal-Mart. A Target appeared, and a huge mall was built about 30 miles away. When I was in high school, a big movie theater was built, along with several large shopping centers. My little town was growing up, and so was I--but the little town wasn't keeping up. I had this fascination with big cities, probably because I had never been there. I still remember vividly the first time I really went to my state's biggest city--a little over an hour south of where I grew up. My father had something to do downtown and he took me along with him. I was 13. We walked the streets, surrounded by the tall buildings and people moving busily along the sidewalks. We had lunch at Planet Hollywood, which was by far the coolest place I had ever set foot in at that point. By the time we left that day, I'd acquired quite a few souvenirs. The most important, however, was a new found passion for that big city.
Several years later, my parents helped me pack up my car and my Dad gave me detailed directions to the college I would be attending--in the heart of the city. In a moment worthy of a Dawson's Creek episode, this small town girl got on the interstate for the first time alone and headed to the big city.
And there she stayed. I worked hard to make it my own. It's where I met my husband and where we live now. And it's where my son will be born. My son (like his father) will be a city boy. Most likely, he will not grow up with a big yard. If he wants nature, he'll have to hunt for it. He will not experience the complete silence that comes at 2 AM on a winter night on a 5-acre horse farm like the one I grew up on. There will always be the noise of traffic or neighbors. He won't have a big view of the sky, and while there will be stars visible, they will be few and far between.
At the same time, he will have parks and zoos and aquariums. There are walking paths to be discovered and duck ponds to be explored. The city may not be a silent place, but he will never feel alone. There is always someone moving in the city. And while the night sky may not have many stars, the skyline of our city lit up is just as beautiful. Yes, my son will be a city boy, and it will probably come far more naturally to him than it comes to me. My husband still laughs at my small town ways. The city hasn't lost its sparkle to me--I still gape at things like a tourist. I make eye contact with everyone, smile and make small talk. I can't parallel park to save my life. I will never be a city girl, but I still love it here.
The more I think about it, the more I realize my son will really have the best of both worlds. He can have the bustle and culture of the city, and the quiet pace of the small town on visits to my hometown. He can marvel at the tall buildings and still have a place to plant a garden or climb a tree. And you can bet that this year, I'll be taking him to my town's festival to show him off to all the people I will surely run into. He might be too young to eat cotton candy, but I'll eat some for him. Maybe I'll let him suck a little off my finger. I'll even make sure it's blue.
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