I was asked recently what I love about life in a small town. It caught me off guard, but after thinking about it, I realized my answer, which was that I love getting to see practically everyone I know on any given day, in Wal-Mart, the unofficial social hub of our community, wasn’t enough.
In reflecting on that question a little longer, I realize that there are so many other things I love about life here. I love that the largest traffic jam here will likely be over in five minutes, unless of course, you are on the river bridge in Decatur in rush hour traffic, or Stockyard Hill in Cullman in a winter snowstorm.
I love knowing that I can count on friends and neighbors, that I know their names and their children’s names and their grandchildren’s favorite snacks.
I love our library, where I can read about places that I might never want to go, but still know something about almost anything. And I like holding books…
I love fireflies on a summer evening, the way they cover a field, bringing nothing but joy with every blink. They make me think of stars suspended a few feet above the ground, where, if you want, you can reach out and touch one. Magical…
I love the way that people bless each other’s hearts, for any reason. I love how people say “Amen” when certain things are mentioned, like Bear Bryant’s name.
I love making ice cream in a crank freezer on a hot August day. There is no comparison with other ice creams, none…I don’t care how cleverly it’s marketed, lol.
I love streets and driveways where the trees overhang on each side, forming a canopy over the roadway, and that on most of them live someone I’ve known all of my life.
I love the stories people tell about anything, from seeing Bigfoot to fishing, quilting-bees, noodling for catfish, old feuds, picking cotton, anything that causes people to reminisce.
I love words. I love crafting word castles, allowing people to visualize things that aren’t right in front of them, to bring back the smell of a grandmother’s baking, fresh linen hanging on the clothesline or newly mown hay.
I love writing on a computer, and I hate computers, so that’s a conundrum.
I love working with people who have a common goal, a purpose that will make life better, right a wrong, or heal a chasm of misunderstanding. I love people who love those things…
I love the small town way that people finish one another’s sentences, of how we know the punch lines to every joke.
I love the Dismals Canyon, the little fairy -fire lights that are straight out of a fairy tale. I love knowing that there is such a place within driving distance, and that it is one of the few in the world, right here in north Alabama.
I love baking bread, making pies and watching people eat.
I love Southern food, and food that has to be cooked all day long, like pinto beans and chicken stew. I love things that simmer on the back eye of the stove, and that when you walk in a house where someone is cooking, the smell makes your mouth water.
I love sweet tea.
I love Southern accents, soft, long -voweled, and comforting, like a caress from someone you have missed for a long time.
I love how water comes out of the side of our mountains, unexpectedly, as you ride down a dirt road, or even a highway, like God has installed a faucet for emergencies.
I love our memories, both good and bad; the good so that we can share them, the bad so that we can learn from them.
I love bib overalls.
I love knowing where my food comes from in the summer and the fall, just the right places to go for strawberries, peaches, sweet potatoes and tomatoes. I love farmers, farms, Farm-All tractors and farmers’ wives, farmer’s markets, farm festivals and farm fresh eggs.
I love family reunions. We don’t have enough of them…
I love having too many cousins to count… I love knowing that we share common ancestors, and that we carry with us their memories, their facial features, their personality traits and their big ears.
I love laughter, the kind where you can’t stop, where you wipe the tears away and laugh some more.
I love the street where my grandmother’s house still stands, every tree, bush and flower on it, every crack in the sidewalk and dip in the road, all as familiar as the palm of my own hand. I hope it never changes…
I love the town square in Moulton, and hope to live to see it revived, bustling and alive with people calling out, “Hey! How are you? How’s your mama ‘n ‘em?“ Even though it’s become somewhat of a cliché.
I love that we always say, “Y’all come see us!” even when we don’t mean it.
I love Darren Knight’s “Southern Mamas” videos, and “Sh%t Southern Women Say.” You have to admit that they have us nailed…
I love movies with real Southern actors, not actors acting Southern…
I love knowing that this town, or any little southern town for that matter, has a place where someone makes the best barbecue in the world. And that everyone eats white sauce on it.
I love hushpuppies, but they have to be fresh, not frozen and they have to be made with a light hand.
I love moss, its texture, emerald green color and the way it grows on old bricks and on the north sides of the pecan tree outside my window.
I love our landmarks, Chicken Foot in Hillsboro, Pine Torch Church in the Bankhead Forest and the Welti Waterfall near Cullman. I love Henry Hill in Mt. Hope, the cross made of tulips near East Lawrence and Sipsey River waterfalls in autumn, when the water is swift and you can hear it a half-mile away.
In writing this, I realize that almost all of it could happen anywhere, not just here, well, there isn’t anything like the Dismals, anywhere, that I know of, so that’s an exception. And I’m pretty sure that not everyone can say they love not having traffic jams, but other than those and some specific landmarks, I think that you might find that we have more in common with others, people from different backgrounds, different areas in our country, people whose skin color, or religion, politics or accents are different than ours, but who love many of the same things, like the love of family, and of home. I think, basically, that’s the key word: home. Home is where everything you love is, home is where things are familiar, safe, loving and for the most part, constant and consistent. And home is what makes you happy, makes you feel loved and valued and appreciated. Home is your home…yours, no matter where it’s located, it’s where your memories are, where you can find a familiar face in every crowd, where you know the roads and where they take you, and that at the end of them, there will be a place you belong…
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