Friday, December 14, 2007

People Matter Most


People matter most in places where they are scarce, places where the animals can outnumber the residents. Everything is about relationships. The other day I heard someone say that business comes first and relationships come second. Let me tell you a story about how this works in small towns I have known…

In small towns you do not hire someone for a job or service. You meet and greet, building relationships in the café, the grocery store, the gas station, and church until you need your car fixed. If the mechanic likes you, has heard good things about you and if you can tell him the name of someone local who referred you, then he may interview you. It is also important to remember the name of the person who told you about ‘Fred the best mechanic who works out of his own garage’ or he may not even talk to you.

When you call Fred, and it is really much better if you go down and meet him face to face, first tell him that Maggie at the café told you to call. Then you tell him who you are, with reference to why you are in town i.e. “I’m the new schoolteacher.” After which he will say, “Oh, that’s Sally’s old job. They moved out to the City when John died.” You commiserate for a moment on the loss of John and another family leaving town because caring about others really is important.

Let me repeat, you are not hiring a service in a small town as you do in the urban jungle. You are building an important connection with your neighbors. You are asking for a favor, and if he has time and likes you, Fred will confer it. This is customer101 for becoming a good neighbor and getting good service in small towns.

At first it seemed backwards to me. The grocery clerk acted put out, like he was doing me a favor, when I would ask to see the weekly ad sheet. (They hide stacks of them under their counters instead of taping them to the windows or littering the aisles with them, where I was trained to look for ads.) I finally quit asking because if you ask too many favors you become a nuisance and people start saying bad things about you at the café.

“But I shouldn’t have to ask,” you whine, “they should want me to see it and buy more.” Ah, well, yes in the land of aggressive business, that is the only truth, but in a land where relationships are the most important value, it is an annoyance. So when you are finding your small place, make new friends and shop friendly.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Small Town Culture


Small Town culture shock is inevitable when an urban dweller moves to a rural place. Think about what it means to know every single person in the phone book.

As a new economic developer in a town of 800, I had a project that required assessing the technology resources of County residents. The methodology: Ask the locals. Folks in the coffee shop went through the phone book and gave me the names of all their friends and family members who had computers at home. What does it feel like to have lived in one place so long that you know every resident in the County, as well as their pets and favorite hobbies? I learned a lot that day.

It also came as a shock to find there was extraordinary curiosity about my activities. I’m not that interesting, but every time I walked outside to weed my yard, wash my car or take a walk…there they were. The neighbors. Asking questions. Chatting up a storm. The social fabric of the community was being woven in my own front yard. I still remember the week people kept asking how my dandelion wine was coming along. I don’t drink. I’ve never made wine. But someone saw me pulling weeds—rather than using the ubiquitous Round-Up spray bottle that I was taught not to touch—and assumed that, of course, I was making wine.

Another shock. Many of my new friends didn’t know where their house keys were. They hadn’t used them in years. Maybe never. A lot of my neighbors didn’t use locks. Never locking the house. Never locking the car. I was told the house had to be open in winter in case someone came by and needed to get warm. They said they left the garage and barns open in case someone needed to borrow a tool. Cars were left unlocked because the heater or air conditioner was left running during trips to the post office or grocery store.
What a change from my urban experience. What a relief it was to relax into the rhythm of life on the prairie.

My Journey to a Small Prairie Town


It was frightening in a way I never expected. All that space--huge sky and empty land as far as the horizon. In the city, I was always on guard for some predator. Always aware of where I was, who was around me, and what they were up to. Out on the prairie there didn't seem to be anyone anywhere. What an amazing sensation.

It was quiet in a way I never experienced before. No honking horns, no sirens blaring, no electronic signs screaming some commercial that stuck in my head for days. As I traveled down the State Highway, to my new job on the prairie, I slowed to view a flock (gaggle? herd?) of wild turkeys with their feathers shimmering blue-green and fluffed by a breeze. They didn't even seem to notice me--just kept clucking (cackling?) alongside the road.

Rolling fields, dotted with flat-topped buttes, kept my eyes wandering off the empty road. An honest to goodness, official Department of Transportation sign was posted in the middle of one of those fields. It read: ROAD CLOSED. I would never have considered driving through a field. No city person I know would need that sign, but in the country, I have since been repeatedly told by local residents, things are done remarkably different.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

I Love Small Towns


I love small towns, especially after living in places like Portland and Seattle, where the traffic alone increases my stress level--never mind random crime, people who ram my grocery cart, and fine restaurants with decibel levels that hurt.

Maybe I’m just too old to enjoy those particular challenges anymore. It’s true I would rather spend a morning listening to the birds and figuring out how to build a business in the back of beyond than try to get across any urban town.

There are benefits and disadvantages in any place you choose to live. It’s really about deciding which things you can’t live without, and what you’re willing to pay for them. I love huge skies, wandering wildlife and quiet where I can hear the birds.


I still enjoy visiting The City with its grand adventure of noise, variety and stimulation, but when it’s over I am quite ready to be home where I am not “on alert” watching for threatening activity. Where I can relax and work on the basics of living–-like how to keep a roof over my head and pay the utility bill in a town without jobs. Where one day I, too, may know every person in the local phone book.

I would like this blog to be a celebration of great stories, interesting people and a more elemental way of living found in smaller places. I will also offer some ideas and resources for business survival in the wilds of empty lands.


Please share your success stories, as well as comments and questions about life in a small town.