Small town life

I grew up in the sort of small town that people write novels and plays about. The sort of place where the high school English teacher and the junior high shop teacher grew up together and the high school vice principal and the junior high nurse are married. The kind of place where everyone in town turns out for the big football game against the cross-town rival and where the fire department dog runs free through the streets.

After seven years living in big cities and disappearing into the crowd, I'm back in a small town. Okay, actually, we live about fifty yards outside of town, but I'm counting it. My dear husband, on the other hand, is a city boy. He spent his entire life in and around Louisville, Kentucky. It's not a big city, but it is a city. There are no small neighborhood events, no local kooks that everybody knows, no small town charm.

Now that the weather is nice, there are finally opportunities to show him what I love about small town life. It started Saturday night when we walked into town for ice cream and stumbled upon the calendar of summer events. It read a lot like the list of events scheduled for the small town where my parents still live: concerts, parades, car shows.

This morning, we joined the entire town for the Memorial Day parade. It was just like back home: the American Legion, the Girl Scouts, the high school marching bands, it was my childhood all over again. The husband marveled at an entire town gathered around the small veterans memorial as men in uniforms read speeches and high school kids in wool band uniformed played patriotic songs. And then everyone walked back to their homes. And for me, it was home.

Garage Sale

I have been involved in exactly two garage sales in my entire life. The first was when I was 12 and my friend Kathleen's family was getting ready to move. We were kids, it was great fun for us and her parents bought us ice cream or something with part of the profits.

The second was this morning. I am still learning the ropes of being a townhouse resident, but one of the things people in planned communities do is they have community events. This weekend, our particular community had a garage sale. Anyone with anything to sell could put it out on their driveway and the masses would come flocking.

We didn't sell much (including some things that were actually pretty good finds), but we have $50 we didn't have this morning and there is ever so slightly less clutter in our basement. And, it was prime people watching.

My first observation, any two people capable of speaking a foreign language will speak it when discussing your old stuff in front of you. I particularly enjoyed this as I have a decent grasp of Spanish and could pick up what the Spanish speakers were saying to each other when they thought I was just another clueless American.

Number two, for people picking through things someone else wants to throw out, garage sale shoppers can be ridiculously picky. That's old. That's dirty. That's outdated. Well, duh, if there was nothing wrong with it, would I be selling it to you for a quarter?

Number three, there are a surprising number of people bargain hunting who either don't need to or shouldn't need to. I saw a woman pull up in a Mercedes SUV that costs about $70,000 new. And I don't think she was just looking for good, cheap antiques.

And finally, I noticed that some people will argue with you no matter what the price. They want to think they are getting a bargain. We sold our old space heater to an older couple for $20 (talked down from $30) and the husband was interested in my husband's spare gas can. It's a big one, fairly new nothing wrong with it. He said $2 and the man was ready to willingly pay. His wife would not give him the money until we agreed to $1 because "eet's old." It is two years old and $2 was a really good bargain, but some people only think they're getting a bargain if they force you to give it to them.

Modern marvels

I recently read this vaguely disturbing story on CNN.com I'm really kind of creeped out that someone could go trough this experience and actually be aware of their skill slipping off of their spine. But at the same time, I'm amazed that I live in a world where that sort of thing is possible. That there are ways to surgically reattach a person's head (essentially).

The Jetsons promised me that by the 21st century we'd have flying cars and moving sidewalks and three hour work days and robot maids. I think I was twelve when I figured out that wasn't going to happen.

Back to the Future II promised me that in eight years from now I will have hover boards and flying cars (why do we all want our cars to fly?) and giant video TVs and mega-dehydrated food. The only things even close to real are the biometric locks on car doors and the 80s nostalgia cafe.

But despite my lack of science fiction like technology, we live in a pretty advanced time. My TV can's respond to voice controls, but it can learn what I like to watch and record it for me.

My car can't fly, but it can keep running on a flat tire and alert me to all sorts of internal problems.

We can't teleport, but I can chat in real time with my friend in Australia through instant messaging.

We aren't vacationing on Mars, but wealthy people can buy their way into space, and the space tourism is becoming a reality.

Medical science can't cure death, but it certainly seems able to cheat it a bit more.

Planning

I'm not an urban planner. I'm not a city administrator. I was never even all that good at SimCity. But I have to be better than whoever is in charge in the city where I work.

The city in which I work is home to a large number of companies and they are all clustered on or near River Rd., a narrow, windy road that twists one lane in either direction along the Raritan River. It's notoriously slow the minute there are more than five cars within two miles of one another.

So, when would be the best time to trim the copious number of trees lining this scenic nightmare? Why, 4:30 pm on a Tuesday just as the thousands of employees of the aforementioned companies are trying desperately to be anywhere other than River Rd.

I don't blame the poor guys in charge of holding up the Stop/Slow sign, but they certainly weren't helping. I assume they all drive to and from work. You would think they would have a better sense of how long is too long to keep one side moving and the other stewing in their cars.

A little forethought could have gotten the trees trimmed and everyone home with lightly lower blood pressure.

Dynamic

I don't know exactly when, but at some point in time our family gatherings changed. It used to be everyone sitting around my parents' family room in comfortable clothes, maybe watching TV. There was often a big sandwich involved.

Then there were boyfriends included.

Then the first of my sisters got married.

Then there were in-laws to include. And we started to have homes of our own to host them in.

Then there were babies at them.

Then one of those babies became big enough to walk.

Now he can talk and demand things and tell you stories about his day. And there's another baby holding everyone's attention. And there are friends and friends' kids and fights over toys.

Family gatherings are a lot more chaotic these days, but they're also a lot more fun.

It feels like only yesterday we spent family gatherings playing Red Light, Green Light in the hallway of my great Aunt's apartment. Now, I'm refereeing fights over toys and my sister is convincing her son not to blow bubbles in his drink and my mother is upstairs changing my niece's diaper and I suddenly feel old.

Surfaces

Ever have one of hose days/weeks/months where you're just so worn out that all your emotions hover at the surface?

It's been a long week with one thing after another just poking away at me. In the end, I find that I no longer have the energy to suppress any feelings. I feel like one poorly timed Hallmark commercial and I would melt into a puddle of goo or something.

It makes interpersonal communication a little hairy. It doesn't take much to get angry or upset or whatever in this state. The poor man of the house often suffers the brunt of these outbursts. But co-workers and family aren't necessarily safe either. Even I don't know when some unexpected emotion will surface.

I'm just glad this week is over.