Small Town, America: 1 Year Later
If you’ve followed this blog from the beginning, you know that last year, my husband and I moved from my home turf of suburban Chicago to his home turf of rural Idaho.
Well, we’ve officially reached the 1-year mark. One year of living in Small Town, America.
Given that he has “home field advantage” and it’s a small town, I’m generally known as “Ben’s wife from Chicago”. (At some point in the past decade, I must have transitioned from being “Lisa’s sister” to “Ben’s wife”. One day, I hope to be known simply as “Erica Goode”, but I digress…)
But because everyone knows about the drastic change from Chicago to Idaho for me, not a week goes by that I don’t have someone with concerned eyes ask me “So how are you settling in?” or, better yet, “How does it feel living here?”
I’ve been coming to this small town for about 12 years now, so I knew what I was walking into. I didn’t think this town would surprise me…until it did. I can never quite explain what it feels like to live here when someone asks.
This is the best I can do right now:
We go to the library every week. If I even have a library card, your guess is as good as mine where it is. I don’t think I’ve ever checked out books with it. Instead, it took our local librarians one week to learn my name & my kids’ names, and they pull up our account the moment we step up to the check-out counter.
I go to the grocery store every Wednesday morning. Yes, because I love a solid routine in my life. But the secret reason is that I will see Michele and Ann, the women who ring me up and bag my groceries every. single. Wednesday. morning. We talk about the weather, laugh about some stupid joke I make so there’s no silence between us, and then Ann insists on walking me out to my car, regardless of the temperature or inches of snow on the ground.
Our power went out on Christmas Day while we were in the middle of cooking our first Idaho Christmas dinner. We called the electric company and within half an hour, a real live person called me back. And he wasn’t just any person, he was an actual electrician located in the same county as me. He fixed the problem and called me back afterwards to wish me a Merry Christmas. (Don’t worry, our Christmas dinner wasn’t ruined.)
When someone passes away, the whole town grieves.
When someone receives a bad diagnosis, the whole town raises money.
I have to be careful what I say on social media. If I even joke about needing something or being short a cup of sugar, 3 people will be at my doorstep in minutes offering their help or pantry staples. (Thank you all for the jasmine rice, by the way.)
One of the first times we visited a local doctor for a strep test, the doctor spent more time asking about how we were settling into town than looking at our kid’s red throat. (To be fair, she really obviously had strep.) But no less than 3 days later, the good doctor showed up unannounced at our doorstep to personally check how the antibiotics were working…and to bring us dinner.
I’m just giving you a handful of experiences in one short year. I could seriously go on and on.
If you grew up in a small town, or this small town, you think these stories are normal and ordinary and commonplace.
I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.
Unfortunately, the community you live in, is not normal or ordinary or commonplace. Believe me, the rest of America wishes it were. But it’s not.
The first week we moved to this town, my Chicago-native parents came to help us unpack. As we were all out on a drive, my city-raised dad whose dream was (…is?) to pack up and move to Wyoming, looked around at the natural beauty surrounding the town.
Then he turned and looked at our daughter and told her “Do you know there are kids in your old school who will never see this? And there are kids in your new school who will never experience where you came from? You’re a pretty lucky kid.”
Honestly, I don’t think she was listening. She’s eight. Plus, parental-wisdom seems to pass easily through the ears until we’re at least 30 years old. But I was listening. And I do feel lucky. While the natural beauty in the area is unmatched, in my opinion, the beauty of the community might be even more unique.
A year ago, I thought that maybe I could add something to this town. In some self-centered compartment in my brain, I thought that maybe I could bring a fresh perspective to anything that came my way. But the truth is, this community has already given me more than I could ever pay back. And for that, I feel grateful.
Happy Small Town Anniversary to me. Cheers.
Like this post? Check out where we started at: Welcome to Small Town, America
