A walk along Main Street

Oh no, I’m on my soapbox. I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ and getting’ a headache from thinkin’. I recently had a visit from a family member, and let’s just say, you can pick your friends but not your family.

I didn’t have a good growin’ up, but it made me stronger. (To give you an idea of my growing up, my brother put it in one sentence. He said, “All I remember is hiding under the bed with a pillow over my head so I couldn’t hear your screams.) It made me wiser and stronger in choosing those I care about and those I just smile and wave goodbye to. 

Some people see one side of the coin. Some see the other. I see all three sides of the coin. Yep, to me, the edge is a side, too. My brother said, “I couldn’t live here.” But then again, he is a big city person. Me? As I go down Main Street, the smalltown friendliness is overwhelming. First stop, CK Hardware. If you have a problem with the home, yard or garden, Cheryl is an encyclopedia of knowledge in getting things fixed. Stop in any bank and you receive a friendly welcome.

Stop by the post office -- one of my favorite places as you receive a super warm welcome. We have the best postal neighbors and friends you could ask for, but we can’t tell anyone or the government will snatch them away from us. Our Fire Department - volunteers - the best. 

We have choices in gas stations. I try to visit all four, but I have a favorite, as do many. Choices are the prices, the service or the fried chicken. It seems the bars go the same way -- the prices, the service or the fried chicken. Need a haircut? Stop in for some friendly service.  

I always lived by the line: Never grow up. Walk into Queen Bee and smell the candy. How can you grow up in such a wonderful place?

I hope to live to be a 100. I hope to see how the world turns out and if America is really strong enough to live through all these sellouts lining their pockets only. I miss the good ol’ days where they used to just hang ‘em all.

I feel sorry for my brother. I remember many years ago after he got married. We were in Iowa on a Sunday, and he had a bad tooth. So his father-in-law called the dentist, who opened up his shop and fixed his tooth and refused payment. He kept harping on wanting to pay. He was totally lost because he didn’t understand what just happened. 

America needs more small towns or maybe more small towns to stay small. Or the third side of the coin: Maybe we need the smalltown hard work ethics to invade the rest of America and keep her safe and beautiful.