Small Towns

November 18, 2017

Small communities I believe, are one of God’s gifts. Don’t get me wrong; there is just as much sin, heartache, and trouble per capita as in large cities, but not being jammed tightly together ameliorates it all. Studies have demonstrated that even rats crammed together in the equivalence of our modern cities become aggressive and anti-social. Having been raised in the suburbs, which even back then I realized were pretty sterile, moving to a small town was like going to heaven. Almost, but not quite.

Urban planners often have neglected to consider the impact of the impersonalization of large, cookie-cutter style apartment complexes. The bland sterility of much government housing are little more than human warehouses, and the lives of those who reside there often reflect the architecture. Sometimes however, those in power got it right. Back in the sixties and seventies, mayor Richard Daley was undisputed boss of Chicago. Even back then, Chicago had its share of problems, but living there for a short time in the mid-seventies, I saw the city in a new light. Everyone talked about Daley’s political machine; the corruption and power mongering that was the ordinary business of political life. But he understood cities. We lived in what had been a Danish-Norwegian community. People living in the neighborhood brownstones had often lived in the same small apartments their entire lives. They knew their neighbors. In a big city, it was like living in a small town. 

I can’t say all cities are like that, and today there are parts of Chicago that are virtual war zones, where people live in constant fear of gangs, drugs, and violence. 

What I can say is that although I know there is always a dark underbelly to even the nicest of towns, living where I do is a gift I never expected when I was younger, and one I do not take for granted today. We have our share of drugs, divorce, and depression, but there is so much for which to be thankful. This afternoon after finishing stacking the wood pile with the grandkids, Linda and I went to the high school for a craft show featuring local artisans. She then spent some time helping at the church for Operation Christmas Child while I tied up sermonic loose ends. I joined her for awhile, then we attended a middle school play in which one of our Dunkirk kids had a part. No, it wasn’t Broadway quality, but it was real, with people we know. 

As we sat in the auditorium waiting for the play to start, I leaned over to Linda and said, “We don’t live in a Hallmark world. Everyone there is young and beautiful, the houses are immaculate and always picturesque. Here, everyone is pretty ordinary.” I wouldn’t have it any other way. Abraham Lincoln supposedly once said that God must love the common man; he made so many of them.” I think he is right. And the best of them I’ve found in small towns like ours.