Hometowns

Now that I’ve officially lived back in my hometown for a couple of months I must say that we definitely made the right decision. I was a bit nervous to come back “across the river”—would I miss living in the larger city? Would my hometown feel too small and cliquish? Within a few days all fears were allayed. Driving up the tree-lined streets past all of the beautifully manicured lawns that lead to our house puts me in a more tranquil state of mind regardless of the day I’ve had leading up to that point. We now live on one of those streets that people say things like, “I bet this would be a great neighborhood to raise a family…” Lots of friendly neighbors who can be seen taking evening walks or working in their yards daily. Even the downtown area is pretty and inviting—they’ve done a lot of work on it since I was a kid living here. Just yesterday Dear Husband (henceforth DH) remarked on how nice everyone in this town seems to be; after his car broke down just after he crossed into the city limits he immediately had people stopping to offer assistance. Within minutes four guys helped him push his car to the gas station on the corner—one guy actually popped the hood and tried to diagnose and repair the problem.
If that happened on the other side of the river, depending on the part of town you were in, you could be standing there for a very long time before anyone would stop. And there are other parts of town that you’d be hoping no one stopped. Where we lived previously, I didn’t feel comfortable letting my kids play in the front yard unless I was sitting on the porch watching them. And our neighbors were hardly of the desirable type, unless your idea of desirable is loud country music blaring at 2 a.m. through the bedroom window or the dream-shattering sounds of a motorcycle engine revving at 0-dark-30. We hadn’t been in our new home more than a couple of days before we had neighbors introducing themselves, making sure we knew we could knock on their doors or call if we needed anything…there’s a certain feeling of comfort and security that comes from living in that sort of neighborhood. I had it as a child and am so thrilled that our children will get to experience it as well.

And as insane as it might seem, I can’t end this ode to my hometown without talking about trash day. Yes, trash day. DH thinks I’ve lost my mind but I love Thursdays. Obviously it is nice to be able to get rid of all of the trash that has accumulated throughout the week, but it’s more than that. First of all, unlike at my previous place of residence, I can put out anything and the sanitation workers in our fair city will whisk it away. And believe me, I’ve tested them—all of the carpet I ripped up from our bedroom? Gone. The 30-ft swath of old giant Redtip hedge that I hacked down? Vanished. The lumber and construction debris from the deck rebuilding? Carried away. And it’s more than that. It’s the apparent orchestration of the pick-up that intrigues me. I refer to it as “the swarm”, which makes DH’s eyes roll to the back of his head. But seriously, there is a choreographed flock of varying types of sanitation trucks that swoop through our neighborhood with an air of efficiency and purpose that is fascinating. It’s like the sanitation workers scoped out the neighborhood the night before, surveying the various types of debris they would need to collect and then planned out an exacting schedule of pickup. You can almost hear Olympic synchronized swimming music wafting through the air as suddenly each street has a large rumbling truck cruising down the block--there never seems to be more than one on a street at a time. They have three or four different types of garbage trucks too. There is the regular one, the open flat bed variety and the giant construction site looking behemoth that comes complete with a giant steam shovel looking thing (Remember Mike Mulligan and the Steam Shovel? Loved that book as a kid...). Within a couple of hours of the swarm’s arrival, the sidewalks and curbs have been cleared of any sort of unsightly debris, at least for another week.

OK, so sometimes it's the little things in life. Just humor me. ☺