Election Eve, Small Town, USA

As the candidate approached the microphone, the air around the town square was filled with the usual noises: babies crying, little kids laughing and playing, the buzz of conversation from small groups of adults as they met, exchanged greetings and moved on. He stood in the fading light, the old courthouse behind him a perfect backdrop to the bunting draped stage, and gathered his notes. He looked at the crowd for a few moments, then stuffed the notecards back into the inner pocket of his coat. “Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon. Thank you all for coming to our election rally today. As you know, I’m running for the office of County Mayor. Our incumbent has spoken eloquently, as always, and now it’s my turn.” He paused, and let the few seconds of silence bring quiet to the square. “I just decided to change what I have to say. Tomorrow you should each vote for your first choice to lead the county for the next four years, and I suspect that nothing I say tonight will change tomorrow’s outcome. So let me tell you what standing up here, in front of you, really means. If this town square were somehow transported to say, China, here’s what would happen within the next few minutes.” He paused again, then gestured at two of the streets leading away from the square. “Tanks would roll up those streets, and the alley there,” he gestured again, “the alley there would be full of soldiers. You, I, all of us would disappear. Most of us would die in a Chinese prison. But not here.” He had everyone’s attention now. Even the other candidates who were gathered in the shadows behind the grandstand had begun trickling out to see and hear. “What if we were in any of several countries in South America? We could all expect to hear automatic weapons any minute, and not from way across town. Everyone here would be on the ground, covering children with our own bodies, and praying that the next bullet would miss. That’s how they change their leaders. But not here.” Mothers were gathering their children close to themselves, and men were muttering, some of them looking over their shoulders. “Let’s shift the scene to any of the third world countries in Africa. We wouldn’t be worried about tanks, or machine guns in most of them. They still use machetes to replace their leaders over there. But not here.” Some of the children were crying, and he was momentarily afraid he’d gone too far. But no one was walking away. Everyone was standing still, listening. “We’ll only take one more trip, and then we’ll stay right here at home, just like Ebenezer Scrooge finally did. In Russia there wouldn’t be tanks, like there would have been 40 years ago. And they’ve never used machetes, at least not in my lifetime. I would disappear into a gulag, along with most of the other candidates, and you’d never hear of us again. But not here. I could go on and on, but I think I’ve made my point. Think about Iran, Iraq, the Congo, Sudan, Syria, Afghanistan, a dozen others, just from recent memory. Then count how many other countries you can think of that would let us stand up here in public, not worrying about being run over, shot, beheaded or just locked up for the crime of telling you all what we think about how we should be governed. I’ll bet you can count them all on your fingers. There aren’t that many. Just think about that, and then go home and give thanks for where we live and how we change our leaders. It’s a precious freedom. Free from fear, free from danger, free from bloodshed. That’s what a free country is all about. And think about one more thing. Luck. We are all lucky that our forebears founded our country to be free, and that our men and women in uniform have kept it free. Thank you all for coming. Thank you all for listening. Good night.” With that, he left the stage and disappeared into the shadows as the crowd began chanting “USA, USA.”

Small Town Living

There was a time in my life when I would have sworn that I’d never live in a small town. I’ve never been one of those who complain that there’s nothing to do; I always seem to have more than enough on my plate. But provincial attitudes bothered me, and I perceived entrenched views that often were at odds with what I thought was right and proper. And it seems that everyone knows everyone else’s business, and that they tend to mind it instead of their own. It’s also very difficult to change your social status in a town that you’ve grown up in. You’re always somebody’s son or daughter, you’re always “from” over there or out yonder, and you keep that stamp on your forehead no matter what your education level, choice of occupation, or even annual income. So much for the stereotypical small town ways. About the only thing I’ve learned that I think is worth repeating is that there are always two sides to every story. We often don’t stay for the flip side of an issue, but I finally have experienced first hand the good things about small town life. Granted, I moved into the community as a stranger, so that the preconceived notion of where I fit into the town’s fabric was not an issue, but at first I was wary of what I expected to be small-town small-mindedness. There is some of that, but then there has been some of that in all the places I’ve called home, and they span the country and a little bit of Europe. Now I’ve found some things that I thought had gone away from our society. I really enjoy walking into a store and having people recognize me and call me by my first name. That makes me feel like I belong. Getting packages is easier, too. I used to have to go to the post office to retrieve anything large. Now I’m likely to find a note in my mailbox saying “Package in your truck”, and I’ll go find something on the front seat of my farm truck. Talk about home delivery! I have arrived as a member of the community. Kids I coached in junior league soccer, and then high school soccer show off their kids to me, and I may coach that generation, too. Being a member of the community is a great feeling. I recommend it. I read about a town like mine in an old National Geographic this week. When everyone in town turned out for the local high school baseball game, and it was rained out, everyone stayed to watch the storm. When you are a community, you have time for things like that, because you are home, and that’s the best place to be.