We drove into the city

We drove into the city yesterday.

As the country roads gave way to the highway, the farm fields quickly turned to industrial areas. And then, the skyscrapers came out of nowhere – piercing the clouds and towering over each other, clamoring to stretch higher than the next.

As a young adult, I yearned to live here – to walk to the corner store, to use public transportation through the perfect grid of streets and to embrace every ounce of culture I could eek out of this bustling metropolis.

Fast-forward about fifteen years: I took my girls. We appeared to fit in amongst the crowds, but a quick trip to the corner Walgreen’s reminded us that we did not.

Those we passed on the sidewalks hurried through congested crosswalks, raced passed the other pedestrians and never looked me in the eye.  Even worse, the three people ahead of us in the checkout line were brusque toward the seemingly friendly cashier. Their callous responses saddened me as I watched his countenance change each time a customer rudely ignored him, just grabbing their plastic bag and walking away.

When I said, “Thank you, sir” he actually looked up and said, “Thank you for being so polite.”

It stopped me in my place. When had we as a society become so introspective that merely responding to another human being no longer was commonplace, but something rare? Was it just the day? Or were the people we encountered truly unhappy? Was it the constant crowd? Or, perhaps, the busy-ness of their lives?

I think I will always be drawn to the architectural brilliance and the cultural magnificence that literally explodes from every corner of the city. But, perhaps I realize now, more than ever, that the city – with all its nightlife and magic – actually may be a lonely place.

I am thankful to live in my small town. There is an innate trust that we have here. We stop and help a child fallen off a bicycle. We greet and sometimes give snacks to the postal worker. We watch our waiters and waitresses work through high school and move on to college. We know our neighbors. We invite people to dinner. It is that kind of town.

I am sure there are plenty of friendly city-dwellers, and plenty of grumpy country-folk. The creative hub downtown forever will draw me to it like a magnet, but the open spaces and the freedom of walking along a path or having a backyard garden will keep me grounded – at least for now.

Wherever you live, a smile (and a kind word) is sure to go a long way. You never know the difference you may make in someone’s life.