Peak Small Town

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
21

I have always lived in or near small towns < 2k people except for a few years in a college town (~35000.) Do not recall the last time I locked the car doors in my yard. Have to occasionally remind the wife to bring in her purse.

My mom was born in a similar area during the depression one state away. Picture Mayberry in the corn belt. She moved away at about age 5 after grandpa died. Her much older sister stayed behind with extended family. About 12 years ago, my family visited my aunt and her family. We were camping about 40 miles away over the 4th of July. On the third, her town has a “Teddy bear” parade. All the tykes would walk around the town square with a stuffed animal. Afterwards was a free ice cream social. Of course my cousins invited us to join them and their grandchildren for the event. The next day was the 4th festivities. My youngest son was about 4. He was in their parade on my cousin’s tractor. My older sons took part in the kids water barrel fight. (use a fire hose and shoot at a suspended barrel, moving it to your opponents end with water flow.) Kids division was 12 and under. Didn’t need teams, just get in line.
FF five years to my aunt’s funeral. My brother and I drove 7 hours and went straight to the wake. We planned on finding a hotel about 30 miles away afterwards. Nonsense. My cousin told us to use her mom’s house, she wasn’t. We’re like “what would the neighbor’s say.” She’s like I’ll call them. BTW, the house was unlocked. We throw our bags in the house and walk about 3 blocks to the only open bar. It was a Sunday night. Only people in the joint was the bartender and her sister. No smoking inside so all four of us would go out to smoke on the sidewalk every 20 minutes or so.
Definitely an area I wouldn’t mind retiring to except for their winter is no better than here.

22

Bit of background: Piper Dad and Piper Mum grew up in a middling sized town in Saskatchewan. Piper Grandad was a pharmacist who ran a drugstore, which he eventually sold to my uncle. Piper Dad was also a pharmacist, and bought a pharmacy in a nearby small town. So Mum and Dad moved from their hometown in the late 50s to the small town.

Piper Uncle eventually sold the store and retired in the 80’s. The guy he sold the store to eventually retired and sold it to yet another guy in the early 2000’s.

When Piper Mum and Dad retired in the 80s, they moved to the Big City, 2 and a half hours away from their home town.

When Piper Mum died in the 2000s, we took her home to be buried in the same cemetery as her parents.

The day of the funeral, I nipped into the drugstore to get something. As the new pharmacist, second owner from my uncle, was ringing in the purchase, he looked out the window and saw Piper Dad waiting for me on the sidewalk.

“Oh,” says the pharmacist, “there’s [first name] Piper. He’s looking pretty good for his age, but sad day - must be in town for Mrs Piper’s funeral.”

I mentioned that they were my parents and asked how he knew them?

"Well, I bought the store from so-and-so, who bought the store from your Uncle [First Name], so you just get to know these things. My condolences - please pass them on to your Dad. "

I.e -the pharmacist recognised the brother of the guy who’d sold the store to the guy he’d bought the store from, and who hadn’t lived in that town since before the current pharmacist had been born, and who had moved away from the area over 20 years before.

Afterwards, I mentioned this to Piper Dad, and you could see the wheels turning. “Oh, yes, I know that fellow’s name. Can’t remember why - don’t think I’ve ever met him. Nice of him to say that.”

23

After reading this thread, I asked my neighbor if she had a house key with her.

“Why? It’s not like we lock up… John, do we have any idea where a key even is? (John shrugged) Y’know, I really don’t know if I’ve ever seen one. We must have gotten a key or two when we bought the house, what was that, thirty-some years ago? But if you said we didn’t, I couldn’t prove you wrong.”

24

In the late 80s-90s I was working with a stock feed mill just outside a town pop about 5,000
Gets a bit warm in the summer out there though humidity is very low.
One day in January the temp was in the usual mid 40s (110F+) and the car has been in the sun for a couple of hours so inside it’s around 60C (140F+). Hot enough to slow cook chicken in a pan on the drivers seat.

Needed to go into town to pick up something and in the couple of minutes drive the aircon unit isn’t going to have much effect. So naturally you wind the windows down to get a bit of air flowing and some relief.

Parked outside the store and walked in to pick up the parcel. Left the windows down which is fine and my wallet on the dashboard which is just dumb. Came back a couple of minutes later and the wallet is gone. Bugger. Drove back fuming at my own carelessness. Back at the office I looked inside the console and there was my wallet with a nice note from some unknown good Samaritan cautioning me that I really shouldn’t leave stuff unsecured in the car as somebody might take it. :smiley:

25

I think your small town could easily be transplanted to Saskatchewan, with folks like that. :slight_smile:

Of course, you’d have to add a negative sign to your January temperatures. :wink:

26

I have lots of small town stories.

Not long ago, a thumbdrive must have fallen out of my pocket at the barber shop while I was waiting. The barber knew I had something to do with computers, so it must be mine; couldn’t remember my name, but knew I was a Realtor. But which real estate office? There are two on the same block as the barber’s.

So a customer took the thumbdrive to the nearest office. It wasn’t my company, but they knew who I was, and who I worked for, and they called me up and I got my thumbdrive back.

If they had taken it to the other broker on the block, they would have known me, too.

Our rural postal carrier saw that my mailbox had been shattered by the snowplow the other day, but she knew I also had a PO Box, so she put all my mail in that without my filling out a change of address card.

27

One more story about small towns, and this time I mean small.

In the summer of 1967 I was just out of the sixth grade. My teacher was getting married in a little town about fifty miles to the north of my city. It happens to be where my Dad was born.

There were two little churches, one Methodist and one Lutheran. The wedding was at the Methodist church. My folks drove me and three other girls from my class up to the wedding. I was all dressed up, the first time I wore nylons! Gloves even. Mom had coached me on wedding etiquette and I felt so grown up when the usher offered me his arm after asking us “Friends of the bride or groom?”(MY teacher was the groom)

After dropping us girls at the Methodist church my folks drove over to the Lutheran church to see if it was open. Folks saw them looking in the windows and told them “The wedding’s down that way!” They all knew about that of course and assumed my folks were lost wedding guests, not burglars.

28

Years ago as a teenager interested in politics, I asked Piper Dad for advice, because he had always followed politics.

He said “You should join Party X. The Pipers have always been members of Party X. (Except for your Grammie, who always voted for Party Y, cancelling out Granddad’s vote for Party X. But we don’t talk about that.)”

So I joined Party X, and suddenly I’m a youth delegate from our riding to the upcoming leadership convention in the fall!

That summer, as I’m walking down the street in our little home town, a guy in his sixties walks up to me. “You’re [First name] Piper, right?”

“Yes,” I say, wondering who this old duffer in a pork pie hat is.

“I’m so-and-so,” he says, shaking hands. “I’m doing advance work for Candidate A in the leadership this fall, and I hope we can count on your support!” So we chat a bit about the different leadership candidates, and why A in his opinion is head-and-shoulders above the rest; the usual salesmanship that an advance man does.

As the conversation is coming to an end, I say: “By the way, how did you recognise me? We’ve never met, have we?”

“No, but you Pipers have been in Party X for a long time and I knew your grandfather. You have exactly the same gait as him, especially the way you move your right leg forward when you walk. Recognised you as soon as I saw you walking down the street, just like old [First name]. Have a nice day!”

Spoke to Piper Dad that night. “Yes, that guy’s been around the party for a long time, but he’s a bit on the shady side, so be careful with any assurances he gives you. [pause] But now that you mention it, you do have the same gait as Granddad had - I’d never noticed it before.”

29

Went for my drivers licence in the local small town.

Cops there know all the farm kids have probably been driving cars, trucks, utes, tractors etc on unprepared roads since primary school so when we turn 16 and go for our driver licence it’s our knowledge of the road rules rather than whether we can handle the vehicle that’s the determinant issue.

For my test it was probably the first time I’d ever seen a policeman up close, let alone spoken to one. Big gruff bastard. Drove around the town. Did four left hand turns, a right hand U-turn and saw no car in either direction. Passed. Being away from home at boarding school I didn’t drive a vehicle on the road during the 9 months of my “P” plate period. Hey presto! I have a full drivers licence. :smiley:

Cousin went to same station about the same time. Now in our neck of the Riverina it’s flat. Real flat. A rise of more than a couple of metres is called a hill or rise because it’s too hilly to irrigate. So you park the car you leave it in neutral if it’s a manual. It isn’t going to roll anywhere. Anyhow when Sally did her test her father drove to the cop shop. Being mindful of the scrutiny he thought it might be a good idea to leave the car in Reverse when he (parallel) parked. When Sally went to start the car she just turned the key in the ignition, not putting her foot on the clutch, just as we all did out there. The vehicle lurched backwards violently and knocked over her father who was standing behind the car. The impact was severe enough to put him in hospital for a day’s observation. She passed.

Next door neighbours kids were all car nuts and a bit wild. When the one my age went for his driving test the cops gave him his licence without doing the test. When his father asked why the policeman said “I’ve been chasing George around the streets of town regularly for a couple of years now. I know he can drive. Now I’ve got something I can take off him.”

30

My mother grew up in Port Washington, Wisconsin – it’s about 25 miles north of Milwaukee. It now has about 11,000 people, but when she was growing up, it was around 5,000.

15 years ago, my wife and I went on a long driving trip out west, for our 10th wedding anniversary. On a Sunday morning, we were in Yellowstone National Park, driving around and looking at various sights. We had parked (we were driving my car) in a parking lot, where ours was the only car there, and walked a few minutes to go look at some thermal features.

As we were walking back to the car, we saw that there was another vehicle now in the lot, and an older couple was walking away from it, and towards us. As we got closer, we waved to the couple.

“Is that your car?” the man asked.

“Yes, it is,” I replied.

“Oh! We were wondering why someone would have Illinois license plates, but Green Bay Packers license plate frames.”

I laughed, and my wife pointed at me. “His car, his frames. He’s from Wisconsin originally.”

“Oh? Where are you from? We’re from Wisconsin, too!”

“I grew up in Green Bay, but I live in Chicago now,” I replied. “Where are you from?”

“We’re from West Bend.”

“I know where West Bend is – my mom is from Port Washington.” (West Bend is a few miles west of Port Washington.)

The woman of the couple looked at me. “Oh? What was your mother’s maiden name?”

“[Name].”

The woman smiled. “June?”

“No, Joan,” I said. “June is my aunt.”

“June and I went to high school together!”

So, 1500 miles away from home, I ran into a woman who went to high school with my aunt. :smiley:

31

when dad retired from the gm/delco plant his uncle filled out his papers when he was hired ….when he retired his great cousin the grandson of the uncle signed him out …….

32

It sounds like the florist was even more of a comfort to the family than she expected to be when she picked up the phone.

33

Your town sounds like a little slice of heaven. :slight_smile:

34

You know when you live in a small county when:

An envelope simply addressed bare in Idaho shows up in your mailbox. Yep, my doper handle and it wasn’t a doper that a sent it, but on old friend that only knew me as bare, my nickname from years ago. No address, not even a zip code. I had to quiz the postmaster about that and all she could tell me is that “we have ways”. A few years later I ran into my old mail lady that ran our rural route and she’s the one that remembered my nickname from more than 40 years ago and got the mail directed to the intended recipient.

Another time I started getting calls from all over the county. A woman was asking for my whereabouts by name, explaining that I’d once saved her life. Heh, nobody would tell her where to find me or even hand over my phone number, thinking they were protecting me.

It was super frustrating when nobody bothered to get her name, vehicle description or even a license plate. She was persistent but I was at a loss of who it could be. Finally she managed to find me at home, a couple days later, same place she last saw me. Was an old girlfriend looking to reconnect and reminisce 35 years later.