Small Town Life
This post originally written December 23, 2005
I grew up from ages 4 until 18 in a small town. I call it a small town, but that contains different meanings to different people. Going to school at a big university, I have heard the term tossed around about cities of 20,000 people. Algoma is a true small town – 3,000 people. My high school graduating class was 100, huge for Algoma High standards. The class after mine was around 80. I tell people there was no male volleyball team at my school, no soccer team, and they are shocked. But for me, this is just the usual. There were plenty of interesting classes to take, plenty of good friends, plenty of quality teachers.
Then I set off for the big city, Madison, population 200,000 or something like that. It’s a small city to a lot of people, but not to me. And I accustomed myself pretty quickly. I think it helped that my maternal grandparents raised all their kids there and still live there themselves, meaning I knew Madison pretty well before arriving in September 2002. State Street was nothing new, East and West Town areas were old hat, and pretty soon I was a city boy. I enjoy seeing homeless people walking the streets – I don’t enjoy their poverty, but they are a part of my city, not a nuisance or something I wish I didn’t have to think about.
Usually when I return back to small town life (this time Mishicot, even smaller place) I don’t mind one bit. The people don’t seem all that different, the drive is about the same to get to stores, only I’m traveling on country roads. And I feel at home. But getting back here for Christmas break this year, things feel different. I’m starting to notice that the people here are a little different than I’m used to in Madison – overall whiter, driving big trucks, and supporting Bush. I went grocery shopping today without my dad and was really put out of my element. Their meat department was TINY, the chicken selection was around a yard and a half of freezer space. The produce was severely lacking. And the prices were much higher than I am used to paying. For 2 hardly filled bags, I paid $27. I could have gotten twice as much at Woodman’s, where I usually shop in Madison.
For a long time now I have had a strong desire to live in the country, isolated from society, on a property with at least one barn that I could fix up. I envisioned myself driving into a city to work, though probably a small city of around 50,000 people at most. I pictured my children growing up spending a lot of time in their own backyard, an idyllic picture to be sure. All of a sudden, I’m starting to question that. I like the hustle and bustle of the city. I like the city streets at night, the traffic, the black-slush snow. I like the busy people walking around and the difficulty in finding parking. I like being able to find a wireless internet connection anywhere I bring my laptop. I like city life.
So what will I do? The jobs are in the city and I suppose that is where my life will take me. In 20 years, I may be writing a post about how I miss the country, how I love craft shops and fake-rustic tourist stops. But until then, I miss the city right now, stuck out here in the middle of nowhere. I may wax nostalgic for the city a little more later, but right now I have to go cook with the expensive food I bought. I’m making a city meal – lime teriyaki chicken with sauteed vegetables. I think it will taste just as good here as it would anywhere else.
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