Small Town, USA–Part 3

It appears that everyone in a small town talks more, at least that’s how it seems to me. I have more conversations at the deli counter than I ever had in the big, bad city.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved the city and there are still things about it that I miss, but small towns, although microcosms of a large city’s population, the inhabitants are hellbent on holding conversations.

For example, last week I ordered some low-sodium boiled ham (I’m on a health kick. It will probably last a few more weeks.) Anyway, this lady standing next to me hears my order and she asks if I had ever tried Rosemary Ham. Who ever heard of Rosemary Ham? I don’t even remember seeing it in the display case, but sure enough when she orders it, the girl behind the counter doesn’t question her.

Oh, and by the way, I don’t know if they do this in every small town, but ours always offers the customer a taste before slicing off the order. Maybe they think everyone enters the store famished–who knows. So this lady gestures toward me and asks the girl to give me a slice too since I’ve never tasted Rosemary Ham. (Everyone in the deli area hears her request, but none of them looks surprised or for that matter bent-out-of-shape because we are holding things up while I get my all-important taste.)

I obediently take my slice and thank the girl. My new best friend has another piece of interesting news to relate. If I go to the bakery department, they sell the most delicious Rosemary Bread. She advises me to make a sandwich using this bread and to add cheddar cheese and mayo. She assures me that I will be in heaven.

Now, you think this is where I’m going to end by poo-pooing the whole episode don’t you, but I’m here to tell you, the woman knew what she was talking about. I wonder if her name was Rosemary?

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Published in: on July 28, 2014 at 9:42 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Small Town, USA–Part 2

What’s the first thing you learn when you live in a big city or anywhere for that matter–don’t tell anyone where you live!

So what do you think my reaction might have been when I met a man in the produce department of the supermarket and he asked, “Where do you live?”

We had been having a perfectly mundane conversation about the weather and how so many of the streets were flooded while we stood beside a display of eggplants. All of a sudden he veered off and asked me where I lived. I almost picked up one of the eggplants to smash  it over his head when I glanced at his face. He didn’t look like an aging lothario, so although my hand continued to rest on an eggplant, I stopped and gave my course of action some further thought.

You see, my town’s streets are divided alphabetically.  It occurred to me that he might be innocently asking what section I lived in, especially when he followed up his first question with, “I live in the E Section.”

Easing my hand off the eggplant, I smiled and answered, “I live in the Z Section.”

“Oh, nice area,” he remarked. “I have a friend who lives over there.”

Our conversation ended shortly after. Poor man had no idea he could have been tomorrow’s headline–Man Massacred With a Big, Juicy Eggplant By a Crazed Woman in the Produce Department.

Published in: on July 21, 2014 at 8:22 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Small Town, USA – Part 1

If you want to experience a tiny touch of culture shock, move from a large, bustling city to a quiet, bucolic town. Be warned though, the adjustment can be tough for a while. I don’t wish to make the changes sound like bad things, but it takes some getting used to when you’re least expecting little surprises.

For instance “rush hour.”

Recently, while driving home with a visiting friend after a day of shopping, she began to laugh hysterically for no reason. I asked her, “What on earth are you laughing at?”

She replied by pointing to the clock on my dashboard–it read 5:30. “This is your rush hour!” she exclaimed.

I looked around. There were about a dozen other cars on the road.

My friend still works in the city and has to drive to and from work on a crowded highway that I too was once well acquainted with. I giggled with her. Rush hour was no longer a  part of my life experience, but I remembered the first time I encountered this small town rush hour.

I was delirious too.

Published in: on July 14, 2014 at 4:40 pm  Leave a Comment  
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