Where I'm from...

"There's not much to see in a little town, but what you hear makes up for it" - unknown

In the town where I was raised there are 125 people that fit into one square mile of country. This past week I went home for a week and I had an epiphany - the place ain't so bad.

Growing up you counted down the days until you could leave. Now, some of us wish we could go back. As much as I love my little hometown, it has its moments. I've thought of some of the best things about small towns.

Network entertainment
Most people know what the elderly watch on a Thursday night because Mrs. X has her television so loud that you can hear it across the street. Take your pick. If Mrs. X likes NBC at 8 p.m. pull up a lawn chair, you can move over to Mrs.Z at 9 p.m. because she like's ABC. Go ahead and cancel cable it'll save you a few bucks a month and chances are they won't notice you camped out in their front lawn munching on popcorn.

Commerce isn't exactly booming
There is probably a "stop all" in a small town. That means on any given day between the hours of 8 and 8 (provided Beulah gets to work) you can not only get breakfast, lunch and maybe dinner on some nights - you can pick up bread and milk, fuel your car and get a cup of coffee with neighbors. There is a tiny post office, some agriculture services and of course a grain elevator where folks are talking about the recent crop. Farmers are a lot like fisherman. If they tell you their crop made so much per bushel...divide it by three to get the actual number.

Community service is limited
Small town kids like to make their own fun, and sometimes the law happens to intervene. (I've seen it happen, fortunately for me I stayed out of trouble). Because of location small towns don't always have a United Way or a soup kitchen. Judges have to get creative when doling out good community service. For example, our city park has been painted twice. Nothing better than a fresh coat of glossy red on the see-saw and seeing the little convict slapping it over the splintered wood.

As Ron White says, "the deputy lived three doors down - we'd met"
In a small town chances are you went to high school with the cops, or the sheriff and his deputies raised hell with your parents back in the day. Getting into trouble in a small town you fear parents more than the cops. The cops will send you home - and then pretend not to notice when your folks knock the hell out of you. When they see you out again, they'll ask you about it and bring up repressed memories that make you think twice about tossing the pumpkins at street signs. They may seem like dummies, but they know what they're doing.

It's all relative
In a circle of ten friends three of them probably have the same last name, but different parents. One of them probably doesn't go to school there, but their grandparents are the neighbors and their parents are best friends of at least one kid's parents. The other four are related to the first three by strange growth of branches from the family tree, but they all have different last names. Any way you look at it, if the group does something wrong -like steal a lawn ornament - Mrs. Y has to make one phone call and somebody's mom has the authority to whoop all ten little butts.

Scanning for info
When driving to the neighboring town for a little fun, don't get stopped. If you do, before you get home at midnight everybody will already know and you'll get a rash of questions about it in church. They know you had a run in with Deputy Billy Bob because everybody in a small town has a police scanner and they use it for entertainment. It's also wise to be cool with Deputy Billy Bob and his cronies because they could tail you, run your tag, and make your life seem like a press conference on Sunday - all without you ever knowing. Nothing worse than being blindsided by a bored cop.