Small Town America

This past Friday I went to a small town in the Heartland you’ve never heard of. It’s an immaculate little burg with manicured lawns and well-maintained homes. There is no stoplight, and not even a flasher light. There’s a main drag about two blocks long with a stop sign on each end. One end is at a county road and the other is at a town street that connects to another county road. There is a volunteer fire department, a bank branch, a masonic lodge, a hardware store, and a small post office.

The flag moves slightly on the flagpole in front. There’s a fence company in town, but I never see anyone there. There is a church and there’s a cemetery. There’s a former service station. It’s only three blocks in any direction to woods or a cornfield. The biggest days of the year are events like the Fire Department fish fry or the church sponsored yard sale. At the hardware store, the owner hosts community pitch-in gatherings to celebrate events like Fat Tuesday, Cinco de Mayo, St. Patrick’s Day, and Christmas. There’s not a cloud in the sky this cool morning. It’s very quiet.

A couple of errands take me to the town about 9 AM. I go to the post office to mail some packages, and there I have my usual cheerful greeting and question about the weather. At the window, the postal clerk accepts my packages, confirms the addresses, and puts them in the outgoing mail with the skill and courtesy to which I’ve become accustomed. I’m asked about my recent book and we chat very briefly about it. I take my leave and go out the door into the sun with a smile on my face.

Outside there’s a slight wheelchair ramp to the right to get to street level. Going down the slope brings me within about twenty feet of the parking area where the rural carriers and other postal workers park their cars. It’s next to the former service station. As I turn left to cross the street to my truck, I hear something I can’t quite identify. I pause. There it is again. Mew! A pause, then louder. MEW! A shorter pause. MEW! I walk over to see if there’s a kitten in the first car. Can’t see a thing. I walk around to the other side. Now the cry is more urgent. I look underneath. Nothing. The crying stops. I look about, but there is nothing to be seen. Did it come from one of the other cars? There is no opening into the former service station that would have allowed a kitten to escape. I have to go back into the post office.

“Sorry to bother, but I’m pretty sure I heard a kitten in the red car outside. Is that yours?” The clerk immediately goes outside to investigate. It isn’t her car, but that of an associate. She goes back inside and brings the key. We open the car, look all over inside, but nothing. She calls the owner of the car for help in opening the hood. We look under there. Nothing. 

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For the first time since she came outside, we hear the kitten, faintly. I’m relieved that they won’t think I’m making up the story. The search intensifies as she’s on the phone with the owner. I ask if there’s anything else I can do and receive a head shake no. I go down to the hardware store for another of my errands. After ten minutes or so, I turn around and drive back toward the post office. In those ten minutes, two more people have arrived, summoned by the postal clerk to assist in the search. When I see the scene that has developed, I must stop. Here’s what I saw.

I’m charmed. No one has seen the kitten yet. The owner of the car is not present. No one knows where the kitten came from, but everything has come to a halt to assist a little one in distress. The lives of three people have been put on hold to see if there might be a kitten who has lost her mitten.

All three people are on the ground in the parking lot trying to see the kitten or at least get a better handle on its location. Of course they are. I close my eyes for just a second and think to myself, Here I am in this moment in small town America! When I open them, the search is still ongoing.

I try to help again, but there are plenty of people on the scene now and I would just be in their way. I tell them I’ll go if there’s nothing else I can do. What response do I get? They thank me for letting them know. They thank ME! I leave with a smile in my heart, with lifted spirits.

Nothing in this morning scene has surprised me. The small town charm, the humanity, the concern for a kitten, the rapid response, the determination to help, the courtesy, the wholesome goodness are all traits I’ve come to expect in Small Town America.

Now don’t get me wrong. Little towns and big towns are all different. There are people who are easy to dislike in small town America just as there are things to dislike. There are people to like in big cities just as there are things to like in big cities.

If I spent a little time, I’m sure I could find examples of these in most towns big and small. Good and bad are to be found out in the countryside as well. Perhaps a place near you will give you a smile instead of a frown the next time you’re there.

I heard later that the yellow and white kitten had finally been coaxed out, then showed no appreciation for all the concern before fleeing the scene rapidly. With a little luck, she’ll find the dish of cat food that is always on the broad front porch of the hardware store.

The story spread, and life soon returned to normal in this little town you’ve never heard of near the National Road. As you read this, dear reader, that little burg is still there, like a thousand others scattered across the Heartland, and good people live and work there. If there’s one near you, why not stop by for some stamps or a piece of screen or some hinges at the hardware store? Maybe I’ll see you there for the Fire Department fish fry or for the night time pitch-in for Hallowe’en at the hardware. I hope so.

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