The Sum of a Small Town

The grocery store, the liquor store, the fitness center, the dollar store, the photo and framing shop, the tax preparer, the hair salon, the karate dojo, the dry cleaner, the video store, the pet store, and the pizza restaurant. The post office and the satellite bank office. Across the street there was a restaurant, there was a gas station, there was an employment agency, there were some offices, there was another pizza place, there is yet another pizza place, another hair salon, another dry cleaner, another bank, a tile store, another restaurant that is closed, a dentist, a chiropractor, and some offices that might be open.

This is the swatch of commerce, plain enough workaday material of ordinary stripe. This is the strip heart of the small town. The cross heart is at the intersection with the gas station and the library. There, three churches are up and down the street from each other, more outposts than not. There are three cemeteries, none of them near a church. There is another gas station farther down the road.

There are three schools, divided for grades kindergarten through eight. There is a fire station, a police station, a town hall, and a town building. There are four federal mailboxes, two in front of the post office itself. There is a convenience store and there are six apple farms that I can think of. There are four seasonal flower and produce stands.

There is a main straight road and many right angled intersections, but there are also forks and curves and turns, and many intertwined loops. The interesting streets end at woods or turn on to unpaved roads. Those rough edges mark the town borders. The inside of the town is more opaque than smooth, and its interest is more inherent than evident. There is history and there is contemporaneity. There is longevity and there is transience. There is a middle ground that is sometimes hard to find.