Hamlets, villages, crossroads with only a flashing caution light, and bigger towns, cities, and metropolitan areas cannot match the charm of a small town! Like soap operas, small towns have hidden stories, scandals, and that best-of-all communication system, gossip.
My little town, population 20-25,000 if you count the subdivisions outside, has 18 taverns and 14 churches. Does that tell you what is more popular? And, of course, we are all overweight because we have one of every fast-food franchise ever granted except for Krispy Creme Donuts! Oh, the pity.
As with most shopping areas, parking is a problem. To remedy the problem, the city fathers took away the end parking spaces on each block downtown and installed flower planters that extend into what were previously driving lanes. After a semi got hung up trying to negotiate a narrow turn, the bloom was off the rose.
In the summer, the sidewalk tables and chairs come out at 2 restaurants and one coffee shop, but I have yet to convince myself that dining within feet of fuming semi-trailers and having pedestrians stop and check out my plate would be enjoyable. The brick sidewalks, old-fashioned street lamps, and wooden benches do lend a certain ambience to the shopping area, though.
We have a lovely hospital with all private rooms, but citizens here prefer to go to St. Agony in the nearby town. Residents there prefer to come to my town! Do you suppose their 'doctor stories' match ours? Did they have a surgeon who ate pizza during surgery? Did they have a surgeon who fell over drunk on a patient's incision? Did they have a doctor who is serving time for murdering his girl friend with a drug overdose?
Our lakes are outstanding. Until the Dept. of Natural Resources put a stop to the practice, the local Jaycees sold chances on when a junk car would sink through the ice in the spring. Ice fishermen still freeze their fannies each winter and kids with hockey sticks and a puck still enjoy a pickup game. The water skiing squirrel has even put in an appearance. How's that for big-time entertainment?
The local yacht club has restrictive membership rules. Unless you own something that floats (dinghies and life rafts qualify) you are denied entrance unless accompanied by a member. The Commodore/bar tender pours a mean brew, I hear, but the wooden tables are a bit splintery. It�s a down-home sort of place where karaoke and fried fish reign supreme on Friday nights.
My town's all-time claim to fame, however, rests with the gal who was America's first female serial killer. The mysterious disappearance of many people, the untimely deaths of small children, the misfortunes of multiple suspicious fires (all covered by insurance, by the way), and the strokes of luck she had made her very rich, indeed. How often does a husband die on the very day that two life insurance policies overlap? Only 8 bodies were dug up in her yard but her victims surely outnumbered that evidence. Belle Gunness must have been the belle of the ball to entice strangers to sell their belongings and come to marry her!
After a fire which consumed her home, the local authorities at the turn of the century deemed the headless female body in the basement to be that of Belle. (The deceased would have been 5'3" with her head and Belle was 5'9", but what are a few inches here and there. The deceased weighed in at 95 lbs and Belle was well over 200 lbs, but what are a few pounds here and there.)
Belle was never seen again after the fire; but, like Elvis, she was 'spotted' as far away as California. Did she change her name? Did her best friend carry secrets to the grave? People still speculate. If you enjoy mysteries, put Belle Gunness in a search engine and join in the speculation!
In the meantime, search out a small town near you and wander down memory lane with the locals. Poke around the antique shops and enjoy an ice cream cone from an old marble soda fountain. Sit on the courthouse retaining wall and hope that you aren�t called for jury duty when the jury pool runs dry! Make U turns in the middle of the block and feed the geese at the lakes. Enjoy yesteryear.