I guess this has a touch of the macabre to it, but it sure made me laugh just when I needed it.
My uncle died this weekend (I seem to have this thing about family deaths before Mother’s Day–a trend I hope to break next year) and he is going to buried in my father’s hometown. I can’t make it back for the funeral, so I am sending flowers. I used the internet to find a florist–looked like the only one in town, incidentally.
I called them today and said I wanted to send a funeral arrangement to the funeral home (also the only one in town). I hadn’t given her my name or any of the particulars but just started with my flower choices. Then I said “Okay, let me tell you who this is for.”
She said “Oh, we know who it’s for.”
I just found that really, really funny.
I also didn’t have to spell my last name, for the first time in my life. Gotta love these dinky czech towns in Nebraska.
Some friends and I were at a bar in my hometown, playing pool. A few more friends joined us, and we decided to get a pitcher of beer. I went to the counter to order it, and the following exchange took place:
Me: “I’d like a pitcher of Bud.”
Bartender: “Can’t do it. It’s out.”
Me, in disbelief: “You’re out…?”
Bartender: “Yeah, it’s OUT.”
Me: “You’re out of Bud? How can you be out of Bud?”
Bartender: “No, the Pitcher. It’s OUT!” <points to other group of people in bar> “THEY’VE got it!”
Seems the bar had only one pitcher. We had to wait our turn to get it. On the other hand, glasses of beer were only 65 cents each, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.
I think I was about 6 when my father decided that he wanted to try some of that Good Country Living stuff he had heard about. So he got a transfer to Buttfuck,NW (also known as New Ross, Wexford, Ireland).
That is one scaaaary place. Used to be a thriving seaport but since the sailors have left it looks like the locals decided to breed exclusivly with each other.Were talking a gene pool so narrow that everyone in the toen looks alike and you cant walk the street with a native without being introduced to an endless string of “cousins”.
Anyway…
I remember the day we arrived very well…as we approached the town we saw an enormous crowd gathered along the river bank. Kids , adults …oit looked like the whole town was out. All the stores seemed to have 'back in five minutes ’ signs out front. 6yo me figure “waheeyy! River Carnival ! This placks rocks already”
Not so.
My father stopped on the bridge to find out what was happening.It turned out that they were dragging the river for the body of the latest suicide victim.
It was a sober and I’m sure quite concerned Dad who drove the clan the rest of the way in silence. We later found out taht a witch who had been drowned in the river by the townsfolk was reputed to have put a curse on the river that meant that 7 people would kill themselves in the river every year. Sure enough every year 7 people die in that river.
The family stuck it out for a while. My dad befriended a local bar owner. When he drove himself into the river it was the last straw. We left the day of his funeral and I dont think any of the family has ever gone back. To this day (21 years on) you only need to mention the name of that errie wierd place to my folks and they go terribly quiet.
Did I mention that part of the curse was that anyone who passed through the town would forever be unable to preview their posts to correct ridiculous mistakes ?
The first weekend after my family first moved to McFarland (a town located in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with a population of about 40 people living within a 1,500 foot radius of the bar) we went to the local grocery store/gas station to pick something up. As we were waiting for service, one of the locals walks in the front door, OPENS UP THE CASH REGISTER and yells to the back, where the owner was: “Hey, Gene! I’m borrowing twenty bucks from the till. Later!” This was a fairly common occurrence. Good lord.
Speaking of small towns, there is a reall little one in Southern Missouri, it’s called Portageville (aka P’vile). This place is kinda scarry, there are no traffic lights, less the one hanging above the four-way stop (and it is just flashing red). Most of the buildings look like they were something else at one point.
Anyway to the point of my story… during my visit, they had a little formal even before their prom (the whole freaking town came out for this! I guess it was a slow Sat night)… anyway this little thing called Grand March… the couples come out and parade each other arround the gym floor! The only thing that made the whole even bareable was the little 18 year old girl who had the body of a super model!!! and a dress to match (slit down the middle held together by small silver chains). The funiest part had to have been when an inter-ratial couple came out and the entire room lost a few cubic meters of air due to the sudden inhaliation of gasps… LMAO.
I now fondly refer to this town as the “ass-crack of the state”.
I understand completely, Cranky. I come from such a town. When I got married we decided to have the ceremony there since it is where I grew up ( I have since moved). I got one florist to do the wedding and the other florist to do the reception so that no one would feel slighted and the business would be spread around. I was able to just call up and say “Hey, this is Michelle. I am getting married in a month at First Christian. My colors are yellow and white. Will you do something that looks good?” and it was taken care of.
So, yes, it is a little bizarre sometimes, but very convenient, too. (Well, unless it’s midnight and you need some Pedialyte. Then you’re screwed until morning because everything closes at 8:00.)
Oh, and casdave? I know you were joking but in this town when you ask someone’s phone number, you only get 4 digits. Yes, the phones work the same, but everyone in a 50 mile radius has the same first three digits so if I asked your number you would say “8754” because the first three numbers are implied. Well, maybe it’s not like having to call up Sara at the switchboard, but it’s pretty close.
But that is what the 24 hour Wal-Mart Spuercenter is for… man I love those places. Where else can you get a steak, and the gas grill to cook it on at 3 am?
I pretty much grew up in the small (pop. 200) farming town of Bonfield, IL. That’s in Kankakee County, if anyone cares.
Only people within about a 15-mile radius ever heard of Bonfield. No stop lights. There were stop signs, but probably just on Smith (main) Street. Kindergarten thru 8th grade were in the same building. One pair of pay phones, which were in front of the one gas station. One general store. One restaurant. One body shop. One swimming hole. One apartment building. And Oak Street was interrupted by someone’s garden.
When you can stand at the sign that has the town’s name on it, look down the road, and see the back of the sign pointed the opposite direction with the town’s name on it. The town I’m from is that small. Kinda nice, but ya hafta drive 45 minutes to get to a decent grocery store.
There’s a town down the street that consists only of the post office. The building next door is part of Bridgewater I believe, the other side is part of Stoughton or something, and the post office is Elmwood. It’s kinda bizarre.
I live in a small town in rural Colorado (1,200 people)(I edit the local paper). I love it. I have lived and worked in a number of big cities. I wouldn’t do it again.
I haven’t carried any I.D. in five years. Haven’t locked my door in even longer. While Main Street is only two blocks long, it takes me between 45 minutes and an hour to get from one end to the other. Everybody stops to talk. And everybody cares.
Recently, a fellow had a heart attack and was taken to the hospital nearest our town. His wife was beside herself. A neighbor drove her the 30 miles to the hospital, another, without being asked took care of her children, and two others got together and prepared a dinner and put it in the oven so she would have food when she got home that evening.
If my checking account gets low, my banker (two banks in town) calls me and asks if I need to transfer some funds from the savings account (“no charge, just happened to notice it”).
Last summer during a heat wave, my wife and I were away from home longer than we expected, and the chief of police (three person force) set our sprinklers out to water our lawn. Local pharmacy (just one) still delivers, as does the video store (just one) if you know what you want.
I could go on and on about the blessings of small town America, but it would sound like an “Andy of Mayberry” episode, but other than being in color rather than black and white, that’s pretty much what it’s like, and I for one am happy about it. We’ve got about everything we need.
(One thing though, we are lacking a barber–got the shop, but the barber died two years ago…so if any barbers are out there…)
… you return home on leave with a $900 government check, go to the bank to turn it into travellers checks, and not only do they not ask for ID, they also ask if you’d take the bank statements home for your parents and grandparents to save them a stamp.
Speaking of stamps:
… you forget to put a stamp on an envelope and the postmaster calls you up to say “Ya, I see you forgot the stamp, then. I’ll go ahead and take care of that for you and you can pay me the next time you come in.”
This would all take place in the big town of Gilman, MN. Population 130, with one municipal liquor store, one VFW, one 3.2 beer joing, and one HUGE Catholic church
One stoplight. It’s a blinking red in two directions and a blinking yellow the other two.
There used to be a general store but it closed down.
You can’t say a bad thing about anyone because the person you’re talking to has a 95% chance of being related to the person you’re talking about through blood, marriage or ex-relationships.
The cows outnumber the people.
If you get in a car accident, nobody will stop to help you, but everybody will know about it before you get home from the scene.
