Small communities

[Ishmael]

I went down to the local convenience store tonight to pick up a few items. Lo and behold, I walked in on a wedding in progress. One of my favorite clerks was marrying the man that she had been seeing for the past three years.

Now, why in the hell would anyone get married in a 7/11? Well it's not quite that. It is a small community store owned and operated by a Lebanese Christian immigrant. It is the center of the community. The bulletin board has all the latest gossip and what's lost, or found. Who is performing what services and how is selling what for how much.

Short of cash? Not a problem. D will start a card on you and you can ride for a while until your boat comes in. You see, we all know each other. Not in the direct sense, but it's a small enough community that if I haven't shaken your hand, I know someone that has. And vice versa.

The only thing the store is missing is some rockers and a cracker barrel. D and his family live in the community as well. When one of us dies, or is injured the donation jar comes out. Whether you like the individual or not, we pull together in times of crisis, misery, or pain.

It's much like the old general store that everyone saw on "Little House on the Prarie."

So B got married among the entire community. We came and saw and celebrated her happiness with her. The little store was the perfect place for her to share her joy with her friends and neighbors.

What is your community like?

Ishmael

 

[KillerMuffin]

The black helicopters are making sweeps and the low rumble of tanks as they rip through the half froze, sodden ground is covered by the firing of their guns. Blending with the sounds of artillery fire, their peals of war carry for miles all around, shaking the glass in my window.

 

[Guest]

 

[KillerMuffin]

There's lebanese bolonga in your local deli, Hanns. You'd better go bust a cap in that terrorist scum sucking cut and formed pork, beef, and chicken by-products with spices, flavorings, and 10% grit, dirt, and insects.

 

[Ishmael]

There's lebanese bolonga in your local deli, Hanns. You'd better go bust a cap in that terrorist scum sucking cut and formed pork, beef, and chicken by-products with spices, flavorings, and 10% grit, dirt, and insects.

Hanns may have Lebanese bologna. But I think he has it parked somewhere else where the sun doesn't shine.

I believe that he really does miss Tulip and her strap-on.

Ishmael

 

[Guest]

 

[KillerMuffin]

Those were Syrians, darling.

 

[KillerMuffin]

No, wait. I was wrong.

The Hamas were involved as well.

 

[Ishmael]

Look at the bright side. We now know what kind of a community Hanns lives in.

Ishmael

 

[His_kitty]

Tonight was the night of my ten year old sons school Christmas play, held in the old country school he attends.

These kids have been practicing since October for this weekend of performances, just as the music teacher (who did this for the kids, with no extra pay) and various parent volunteers. For the past three weeks, four to five times a week for three hour practice sessions.

Walking into the old gymnasium, and taking a seat that my aunt had saved for me, I looked around at the crowd gathered. It struck me once again how funny it was to see people that I had gone to school with, there waiting to watch their children tonight. Not just kids I had grown up with, but their siblings, older and younger, neighbor's, people who know me simply as my grandparents eldest granddaughter, and even some of the teachers that had taught me.

These activities we do for our children, that our children participate in, always reminds me of a semi-family reunion of sorts. We gather in groups to share the news of what is going on in our lives, who's recently had a child, who has just gotten married, or who has left us since the last time we've gotten together.

As I mentioned my sons school is a very old country school. One that they've been threatening to close for the past few years. Every year some of us volunteer our time to make copies, take up money in the lunch room, help with reading and to read to them and even for art.

Unfortunately this will be his last year there, moving onto the bigger Junior High in town - twenty minutes away. He'll be losing the small classroom atmosphere that he's had since his first day of kindergarten. The wonderful teacher's that will put forth the extra effort to help a child if they are having a problem, the principal who refers to the children as "My kids".

I'm rambling off the track of the thread I suppose, but I'm feeling a bit nostalgic tonight.

Great thread Ish.

 

[Ishmael]

Tonight was the night of my ten year old sons school Christmas play, held in the old country school he attends.

These kids have been practicing since October for this weekend of performances, just as the music teacher (who did this for the kids, with no extra pay) and various parent volunteers. For the past three weeks, four to five times a week for three hour practice sessions.

Walking into the old gymnasium, and taking a seat that my aunt had saved for me, I looked around at the crowd gathered. It struck me once again how funny it was to see people that I had gone to school with, there waiting to watch their children tonight. Not just kids I had grown up with, but their siblings, older and younger, neighbor's, people who know me simply as my grandparents eldest granddaughter, and even some of the teachers that had taught me.

These activities we do for our children, that our children participate in, always reminds me of a semi-family reunion of sorts. We gather in groups to share the news of what is going on in our lives, who's recently had a child, who has just gotten married, or who has left us since the last time we've gotten together.

As I mentioned my sons school is a very old country school. One that they've been threatening to close for the past few years. Every year some of us volunteer our time to make copies, take up money in the lunch room, help with reading and to read to them and even for art.

Unfortunately this will be his last year there, moving onto the bigger Junior High in town - twenty minutes away. He'll be losing the small classroom atmosphere that he's had since his first day of kindergarten. The wonderful teacher's that will put forth the extra effort to help a child if they are having a problem, the principal who refers to the children as "My kids".

I'm rambling off the track of the thread I suppose, but I'm feeling a bit nostalgic tonight.

Great thread Ish.

Not at all darlin'. You have captured the very essence of it.

Ishmael

 

[Bidin~Time]

This time of year in particular, we tend to notice our communities more. But I'm proud of the community I live in 12 months of the year. As in kitty's community, our teachers here give of their time to expand the experiences of our children. Always without pay, at least monetary pay. The Christmas band concerts, and the H.S. chorus always bring out the informal reunions of which kitty spoke. And as in Ish's community there is always a donation jar at the local store. Most of the people I know don't have much if anything left over after they pay their bills, but those jars always seem to fill up somehow.
It always reminds me of a story I heard once about a little boy who asked his mom for money to give as a donation at school. It seems the school had adopted an underprivileged family for the holidays, and they were providing presents and holiday dinner. The little boy was so proud of the few cents he contributed, until he learned his family was the underprivileged family. The point of the story was, being poor or underprivileged is a state of mind. When you have the love and support of family and friends you are never poor or underpriviledged. Those of us who live in those tight-knit communities are some of the wealthiest people on earth.

Thanks for reminding me

 

[Ishmael]

This time of year in particular, we tend to notice our communities more. But I'm proud of the community I live in 12 months of the year. As in kitty's community, our teachers here give of their time to expand the experiences of our children. Always without pay, at least monetary pay. The Christmas band concerts, and the H.S. chorus always bring out the informal reunions of which kitty spoke. And as in Ish's community there is always a donation jar at the local store. Most of the people I know don't have much if anything left over after they pay their bills, but those jars always seem to fill up somehow.
It always reminds me of a story I heard once about a little boy who asked his mom for money to give as a donation at school. It seems the school had adopted an underprivileged family for the holidays, and they were providing presents and holiday dinner. The little boy was so proud of the few cents he contributed, until he learned his family was the underprivileged family. The point of the story was, being poor or underprivileged is a state of mind. When you have the love and support of family and friends you are never poor or underpriviledged. Those of us who live in those tight-knit communities are some of the wealthiest people on earth.

Thanks for reminding me

We all need those remninders GE. Just like that wedding that I walked in on. I didn't need to be invited. Everyone was invited.

Thanks for your story too.

Ishamel

 

[unclej]

your community sounds a lot like mine ish. up until last year we were an unicorporated villiage with one stop light. now we're an incorporated villiage with one stop light. we have one grocery store in town and it's impossible to do my shopping without getting involved in 4 or 5 conversations. i can't remember how many benefits i've hosted in the last ten years and they range from a good friend finding out that he had ms and everyone getting together to help with his medical expenses to the yearly battle of the bands benefiting toys for tots.

i lived over 20 years in dallas and i don't think i ever helped anyone outside of my family or an employee and now it's an every day occurance and i think we're all better for it.

good thread!

 

[T.H. Oughts]

Like kitty I went to the school christmas padgent last week. There were parents there that I had been at school with.... My Mother who was with me knew people there that had been customers in her shop for 18 years..... years pass but a deep connection is there...

There is something to be said for still living in an area as an adult that you were as a child...

Now and then we think of moving but then realise how much "community" there is still left in the communuity and it keeps us here.

 

[LovetoGiveRoses]

I used to live in a little seaside town that the Pacific Coast Highway skirted. With the "big road" going outside and around, a large harbor on one side and a relatively unused Navy base on the other, our little community was somewhat isolated. We had a brick paved tree lined main street with several non-chain little storefront type restaurants with a couple of them being "open-air", that is, with giant windows and doors that opened so that you felt like you were almost sitting outside. Up at the top of the street, at the corner of Main Street and the pier was Grandma's ice cream parlor.

It was just a little town. After work on Friday, you could park your car and never have to get back into it until the trip to work on Monday. The grocery store was within easy walking distance and so was Mort's 2nd hand bookstore. Mort had a couple couchs and a chair in the bookstore and it became a tradition to grab a couple cups of tea and sit down and chat with him on Friday nights. Of course on the way there, I'd have to walk by the outdoor restaurants/pubs and all the familiar guys and girls would waye and shout to get you to stop in, but that visiting always waited until after I'd picked up the news from Mort.

It seemed we had parades every weekend. There was always one reason or another. Sometimes little music groups would sing or play out on the pier near Grandmas. There was a little Mexican Cantina tucked behind a couple buildings along Ocean. It wasn't fancy, the windows, I think, were tall garage door scaps from some torn down industrial building. There were large tall in the beachside park across the street and lots of little indoor palm trees scattered throughout the place. I'd often go there on Sundays. The sun would shine in from across the ocean, through the swaying beachside palms and would scatter constantly moving golden afternoon sparkles of sunshine into the cantina.

 

[teddybear4play]

My community — sorry about the length.

My city began when the land around the river was bought up and turned into a factory. In the 1830's, Indiana's governor proclaimed it "The Pittsburgh Of The West" because of its burgeoning population and industrial might.

The factory changed hands over the years, as well as what it made. During World War II, it made fuel cells for American bomber planes. In 1943, the factory employed 10,000 people. (In contrast, my city is also home to AM General, the factory that makes Hummers and Humvees, and right now they employ less than 1000 workers.)

The postwar economy led to a decline in production, though, and like so many other Midwestern cities, as the local industries began to fail, the city's center declined. In 1997, the factory finally went under, leaving the town with 57 buildings, totalling over 1.8 million square feet, that were empty and practically unusable. So the city decided to tear it all down beginning in October 1998, with buildings that dated back to 1870 getting hit with the wrecking ball.

The total bill for demolition came to more than $7.8 million, done by D.H. Griffin, the same company that tore down Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium in 1997.

Six of the 57 buildings met a spectacular end by implosion on the morning of June 17, 2000. The implosion required 5,000 sticks of dynamite, more than one ton of explosives, and eight miles of wiring. It was unquestionably the single biggest event in the history of the city. According to police estimates, more than six thousand people showed up to witness the event at 8 am on a Saturday. The city divided the awesome honor of pushing the buttons for implosion in two — one went to the winner of a raffle whose parents and grandparents both worked at the factory; the other went to a 9-year old leukemia survivor nicknamed "Dr. Destructo" by his father because of his tendency to break things.

The implosion didn't go off without a hitch, though — half of the largest building still stood after the charges rumbled. Some wayward bricks fell and severed the wires leading to it.

The demolition of the complex reaped an incredible amount of raw materials, three-quarters of which were recyclable. One and a half million bricks, one million board-feet of timber (some of which dated back to 1833), and 5,000 tons of scrap iron survived the destruction. D.H. Griffin owned the rights to all of it, and shipped it all over the world.

Plans are still being drawn up for the future of the 43 acres downtown freed up by the demolition of the factory. The city made a RiverWalk that linked three different city parks, but other than that, there's nothing there, for the first time in nearly two centuries.

But the city is abuzz with what will be here, eventually. I live half a mile from it. Should be a great place to live again.

TB4p

 

[Ishmael]

Bumping for the early birds.

Ishmael

 

[Guest]

 

[MissTaken]

My town

I live in a small college town which resembles a post card perfect New England village. The Victorian homes with perfectly manicured lawns line Main Street. This time of year, the village has hung white Christmas lights in each of the perfectly placed trees on the sidewalks. Hence, the homeowners only hand white lights as well.

Post card perfect. Like a post card, the village lacks depth, depth of character, depth of community. No one truly "belongs" in this community unless they have money or power. If you go to the grocery store, there are no greetings, no smiles. If you gain anyone's attention it is probably because your children aren't being picture perfect polite.

This isn't a jaded description of my town. I know this is accurate based upon experience. I used to work in a position of power. Then, the plastic smiles came readily, the invitations for cocktails or dinner parties were in abundance. A visit to the grocery was a social event. I wouldn't dream of going without make up and had to leave myself time for the mundane chit chat that goes with elbow rubbing. Then, after leaving that particular position for a job which allows me to return to parenting and humaness, I have apparently melted back into the masses of those benign, unimportant individuals who are tolerated by the upper echelon.

In truth, I prefer to be part of the background here. My plastic smile is hidden in a closet somewhere and will probably be sold in a garage sale someday.

Yep. I hope to be moving in short order!

 

[candlelight]

I live in a small town where I could see that happening too. I use to work in a store that was sort of a meeting place to socialize. Since we live in a rural area, when you grocery shop, you'll see people parking their carts here and there throughout the store to catch up on some news with their neighbor.

 

[suzzzzzy]

small towns and big cities

i was raised in a town with 800 people, 8,000 cows and 20,000 chickens...a sprawling farming village in the green rolling hills of central mass....we were six miles from the nearest grocery store and picturesque new england village previously described.

we had two or three stop signs. i remember the year they put the blinking yellow traffic ight in at the intersection of route 67...the whole town was buzzing about it for days.

in the center of town still stands the pristine white congregational church, complete with civil war era cemetary in the back. seemed like everything took place in the church till we built a new brick town hall to replace the old rambling three story wood structure that had been lost in a fire.

it didn't take much to entice the old building into an inferno...the volunteer fire crew was at the station in minutes, unfortunately old mr. pollard picked that precise time to move his cows from the lower pasture, back up the road that goes right through the middle of his farm, to the upper meadow, up behind the house...

it was a twice a day occurance...move them down in the morning and back in the afternoon...we regularly sat and waited as the boys would poke and prod the lumbering cows...it took only ten minutes or so...usually no big deal..unless you were trying to get through to fight a fire.

by the time the fire crew arrived, the top two floors were gone and shortly after the fire, the quonset hut fire station was moved closer to the middle of town...

like so many of the other posts everyone knows everyone else in that small town...knows who is sick..who might be out of work..or how well the howard's vegetable crops are doing....

i often miss that closeness now that i live in a big city where if a neighbor speaks it is more than likely to complain about the dog, or the noisy college kids across the street...a city that itself is losing it's identity with each move 'into the future' , 'in the name of progress'

there is an old restaurant in town, The Liberty Bell, that has been here for almost 100 years. it is a landmark to many locals and tourists...it is filled with historic memorabilia, photos, antique gaming equipment....one of those places you can go and always know the food will be home cooked delicious...the people will always be friendly...

The Liberty Bell sits on the main street...just in front of the convention center. recently the city officials completed a multi-million dollar expansion of the convention center, and in their infinite wisdom the architects located the new entrance just feet from the back of the restaurant....never considering that they could work the old historic restaurant into the design, never considering placing the entrance elsewhere...

it appears that in their infinite arrogance, the city officials have decided that progress is more important than history. the brothers who own the restaurant refuse to sell...the building is too old to move, even if a suitable replacement site could be found...the convention center is already built, there's no rethinking that decision now....

so what is the only remaining option? take the restaurant by eminent domain and condemn it....tear it down and pave, allowing the convention center's monumental entrance to be viewed in all it's futuristic glory...

just one of many tragic turns my city is taking in the name of progress....

funny how in my hometown they just moved the fire station, rather than mandate that mr. pollard couldn't use his land...but then again, people tend to look at things a little more logically back there too...

at any rate, pardon the ramble...i could go on and on...thanks for stirring my memories this morning