Walking home from the library last night, I thought again how lucky I am to live in small town America. Actually, it is a little village on a beautiful lake, that swells from 400-500 year-round residents to about 6,000 in the summer. Inspite of the inconveniences of that many people in this small space during the tourist season, (it's easier to cross the street in downtown Chicago than it is in The Village during the summer), there aren't too many places left on earth where you can safely walk home from the library at 8:30 p.m. in the half-dark.
I love the country; I like the peace, the space, the natural world outside my window, but every time I think I'd like to move onto 20 acres somewhere, I remember that I can walk to the bank, the market, the hardware store, three gift shops, the library, the post office, and my hairdresser. And almost everyone knows everyone. If I liked to golf or play tennis, I could do that. I can dine al fresco, or in an elegant Old World restaurant, a pizza parlour, or a Victorian hotel.
And with all this, I still have my yard, with huge old trees, flowering bushes, many herbs and perennials, and birds everywhere. The early morning skies in the summer, the half-light on the snow in the winter, the smell of spring along the lake, and the incredible blue October skies against brilliant leaves create ever-changing walks.
The old high school has been converted into senior citizen apartments. The residents sit outdoors on lovely summer evenings watching the ballgames across the street. Youngsters and their parents enjoy the playground on the elementary school grounds. The tennis courts are full everyday in the warm weather. The new beach attracts families from beyond our village. And, as befitting a town that proudly sports a state basketball championship team, basketball hoops abound and all have an energetic game of some kind going on day and evening.
The Village is a veritable garden at high summer. Just about every yard is abloom with bright, happy colors. As the old trees inevitably have to be cut down, young trees take their places. Old varieties like the maples and oaks are replaced by golden lindens and tulip trees and Sunset maples. The Village was designated as a "Tree City" this last year, because the villagers have engaged in an active replanting campaign.
But, after all, it's the people who make The Village. We are a mixture of natives and transplants who blend together comfortably. There are arguments and misunderstandings, but in the long run, The Village is a peaceful place. And it's a great place to raise children...and to enjoy the sunset years. Amen
I'm alone this week while DB travels for his company. So, my usual procedure is to get as many library books as I can so I can read until my eyes get swollen and itchy and I have trouble opening them in the morning.
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