SMALL
TOWN LIFE is unlike anything we have ever experienced
before.  Both of us are city people, me
more than my wife, since she had some country experience in her youth before
the city spread out to encompass her parent’s home.  Then throw in the vast difference between
Florida, where we both grew up and went to school, and Utah, where we see
polygamists shopping in St. George, and it has taken some getting used to.  I have more elevation change in my backyard
than the entire state of Florida.

We live in a town of about 350 people.  It is like one extended family.  Everyone knows everyone.  You never fail to wave, even when passing
another car.  Actually, there are three
little towns in a row along Highway 89 that are all related.  About six or eight family names
predominate.  They also intermarry, which
results in some interesting relationships. 

Neighbors are truly neighbors, in an old-fashioned
sense.  They help each other in times of
need.  They share expertise, outlook, and
garden harvest.  There are town dinners
in the little town park, where dozens of scruffy kids run around and designated
old timers dole out leathery beef, beans, &potluck potatoes. 

In this cozy slice of Western Americana, my wife and
I remain outsiders.  Notwithstanding that
we both have been active in civic affairs since we arrived, we’re still “the
Florida people.”  We are not Mormon and,
although there is no prejudice associated with that, it still is a fact we
cannot mask; we don’t show up in church on Sunday. 

This is a very blue collar place.  After almost ten years here, we’re still the
only family in town without a garden, ATVs, and at least one junk vehicle in
the yard.  In fact, when we bought the
property, there was a junker in the front that I insisted be removed.  Little did I know that had I left it there I
would have been more readily identified as a “local.” 

Like everything else, living in the boondocks has
its penalties and rewards.  When we go
shopping, it is an all-day adventure with three large coolers in the back to
haul perishables home.  There are lots of
city life things that I miss; good restaurants would be on the top of that
list.  As we get older, we are constantly
re-evaluating our situation.  Being two
hours away from decent medical care is a growing concern.  Being on the opposite side of the country
from relatives is another.  But as I look
out my window right now, I am surrounded by woodland of massive junipers and
pinyon pines that create an enclave of privacy and quietude I could never find
anywhere else.  I'm going out and walk
around in it right now… with my little friend Bart the cat.