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.