(image from swisscan on flickr)
1. The smell of cut grass. Even though it’s 102 degrees here, I went for a walk, and had a wonderful time– everyone had mowed their lawn over the weekend, I think, and every time I turned a corner I smelled cut grass. Even the heat was scented with grass.
2. The Dairy Queen. The DQ was the only restaurant we had in town, besides a few local diners (where only men and old people went.) I didn’t go to a Burger King, for instance, until I was in college. The high school had an open campus, except for the athletes, who had to eat in the cafeteria so the coach could make sure they were eating good things. My parents gave me two dollars every day for lunch; when the bell rang, it seemed like everyone walked up the street and across the town square to the DQ.
The DQ also figured prominently for us as teenagers. Because there was no where to go, no movie theaters or malls, we “made laps” once we had cars, or friends with cars. The circuit went out on the highway to Pat’s (aforementioned diner), through the empty parking lot (older kids often parked to talk in the parking lot), back up the main drag and around the square. We’d go through the drive through at the DQ, and hang out in the parking lot when it closed. I grew up in a dry county, so we really were only driving, talking, parking, and drinking Mr. Mistys.
3. Little neighborhoods where all the streets have ladies’ names. I once lived on Annalee, which was in the same neighborhood as streets named “Eulalie,” “Rosalie,” “Florence,” “Anna,” and “Madge.” I heard that when the city planners were creating those streets in the 1950s, they all named a street after their wives. The neighborhood I’m staying in now, with friends, has streets named, “Fayette,” “Lucia,” “Kit,” “Coral,” “Darlene,” and “Daisy.” I like the idea of people naming streets after other people–but first names, more quaint and less austere, and I like these 1950s names.
4. Chatty people. I am a chatty person, I think, and I forget that not everyone in the city wants advice, a conversation, or details. Sometimes someone will ask me a curt question on a train, or in a shop, and I’ll be ready for a full explanation, with what I think, what might be possible, and other details. In the Midwest, in my experience, people are warmer and more likely to join in a conversation, or enjoy one.
Maybe even cities of some size are more like small towns in certain parts of the country. Maybe not being in a hurry is what makes the difference. I also think that fear plays into willingness to be open and chatty. People in crowded places are more protective of their space and fearful. One of the things that I have gotten out of living where we do now is that I want people to know more of my business. I want them to miss me and wonder how I am doing. I want my neighbors to care. I didn’t realize how much I missed that when we lived in a neighborhood where no one seemed to. That is something that worries me about where my Mom lives. She has been there so long that everyone else is new. I am not sure that they don’t care, but they don’t have the same interest in neighborhood and community awareness that existed in that area when I was a kid. Maybe being chatty with the people as I move around the street will improve that. I can only hope.
Last week I sat in the park along the Chagrin River with my Mom and sister having our Starbucks drinks. All the dog walkers and families and little old ladies had a friendly word as they passed by. It was lovely.
I love the photograph and I love the stories.