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It has been a while since our travels took us by the lumber mill. Unable to contain his curiosity, My Taller Half called the mill to check on the men and women working there. The receptionist was happy to chat with him and informed him that, thanks to everyone working together, they have enjoyed 692 days without an accident. Both MTH and I are all smiles. Well done, folks! Well done!

The End of an Era

Our county just passed a referendum allowing the sale of alcohol by the glass in restaurants that do 51% of their business in food sales. You will also be able to purchase liquor by the bottle. Bars will still be prohibited. The intent of those who sponsored the referendum is to open the county up for development. I’ve heard that Cracker Barrel is one business that has expressed interest. We were one of the last mostly dry counties in the state.

I was a bit ambivalent about the vote. I am not opposed to drinking alcohol, only drunkenness. My Taller Half hasn’t had a drink of alcohol in decades. We have several bottles of good liquor in the cabinet, but I’m on so many medications, I haven’t had a drink in years. No one wants to encourage drunk driving or drunkenness, but anyone who really wants liquor can just cross the county line to find it. Besides, you couldn’t buy liquor here, but the police reports show you can still buy meth.

My problem is that we like the quiet here, and development is not something that thrills us. Our house is a short block from the county highway that runs through town. Before The Big Storm, we never heard the traffic noise. With so many trees gone, we can now. You can still see stars here at night, hear the birds and the crickets. That may change.

Development means more traffic, more light pollution. If it gets too developed, maybe a developer will want to buy our house and 3/4 acre, and we can take the money to relocate to a more rural part of the state … though few more rural places exist. And since we only have about 3,500 people here now, it will take a lot of development to make Pixley anywhere near as big as anywhere else I’ve ever lived … although MTH lived in a much smaller hamlet in Western New York in the 1970s. At least when friends come to visit, we’ll have more options for where to take them out to eat. Right now, we have two Mexican restaurants, a barbecue place, and a Waffle House, the one that actually closed for a day or two after The Big Storm.

Change is hard, and its size is part of what attracted me to Pixley. But more businesses means more jobs and less poverty, and that’s hard to oppose. Slàinte mhath!

Every Silver Lining Has a Cloud?

Small town life is frequently inconvenient. A few weeks ago, our refrigerator/freezer died. I was not worried, as we have a maintenance agreement. After a call and a small deductible, the appliance gets repaired. Simple, right? Not in Pixley. After a few days, the maintenance agreement company informed us that the authorized repair service center in our area did not respond to their attempts to contact. They would keep looking.

After two weeks without a refrigerator/freezer, My Taller Half and I purchased a mini-fridge. It even has a tiny freezer compartment and a teeny-tiny ice tray. The maintenance agreement company informed us that they finally found another authorized service center who would service a call here. Their first availability was in about three weeks.

Five weeks to repair a refrigerator, simply because there are no repair people nearby — or no authorized repair center nearby. There are people who do repair appliances who do not need help finding business. We could have gone to one of them, but I am stubborn and just a little frugal. I bought a maintenance agreement, and I do not want to spend more.

Okay, we did spend money on a mini-fridge, but if the power goes out, it’s easier to power a mini-fridge with a generator than a full-sized appliance. There is method to our madness. But mainly, I am stubborn. Plus — teeny-tiny ice!

It could be a lot worse. We have transportation. Pixley is the county seat and boasts a variety of fast food restaurants, Walmart, and two or three other grocery stores, so we won’t starve. We can buy a meal’s worth of groceries to cook — the oven still works. We have a small kitchen with no microwave and no dishwasher, so we tend to keep our meals simple on the best of days. 

There are others in Small Town USA whose resources are far more limited. But in those circumstances, at least in towns like Pixley, neighbors pitch in to help. Our sweet next-door neighbor is helping us by taking some meds and a few of the more expensive, longer shelf-life items to store for us.

The reps from the maintenance agreement company were relieved that we are not outraged. We are philosophical. Inconvenience is part of the price of living in not-quite-paradise. We have learned that we cannot expect the same 24/7 service you get in large cities. We do not have 24/7 traffic and sirens, so we are satisfied. In a few weeks, when the refrigerator is fixed, My Taller Half has dibs on the mini-fridge. 

What is an inconvenience to us could be a disaster to another family in less fortunate circumstances. Still, for those who love living in Small Town USA, the silver linings far outweigh the clouds.

Information, Please

I like to think that Pixley is typical of small-town America, but I don’t really know, as it is the only really small town in which I have lived. I spent my childhood in a small town that was at least ten times the size of Pixley. Our little town put on a beautiful fireworks display on the Fourth of July and parades on every major holiday. There was a sign at one entrance to the town welcoming passersby with the names of some of the religious, civic, social organizations there — Rotary, Lions Club, VFW, The Presbyterian Church. and so on. My dad was a Moose, and they were not listed on the sign. I always imagined the meetings were something like those of the Royal Order of Water Buffaloes in The Flintstones.

Pixley has parades and celebrations, too. They decorate the town square — not truly a square, more of a rectangle by the train depot — with lights at Christmas. They have a scarecrow competition every fall. Between The Storm and COVID-19, I haven’t had the opportunity to participate in any of these festivities, but I’m happy just knowing they are happening.

The entrance to Pixley is graced with a welcome sign worthy of her position as the county seat. Above the sign, a very large American flag flies proudly. Every time we get a water bill, there are two amounts. One is the actual water bill, and the other is the water bill plus two dollars — one for the upkeep of the flag and one for the parks. We have a couple of nice parks for a town this size. We pay the extra $2.00.

I don’t know of any civic organizations here. We do have a lot of churches. According to Church Finder, there are 37 Christian churches in Pixley — more than one church for every hundred people. Fourteen of those are various types of Baptist. There are two Catholic churches. one Episcopal, an AME, a Pentecostal, the Salvation Army, and various others. If you go to synagogue, you’ll need to go to Big City or Beach Town. Same if you’re of another faith or even my particular flavor of Christianity. I don’t sense any strife, any judgment, anything negative about the faith lives of people in this town. You do hear “Have a blessed day” a lot, which I like because I can use all the blessings I can get.

Now let’s talk about what there isn’t. There isn’t a bar in Pixley — or in the entire county. We’re one of the few places in the country that is still dry … though you can purchase weak wine and beer at Walmart or one of the few restaurants with a liquor license. There isn’t a bus or a taxicab. I won’t go into that just now — that’s a whole post of its own! There are no movie theaters in Pixley. You have to go to a Big City or Beach Town for that … if they are still around after COVID. There isn’t a lot of racial strife … at least not that I have seen. I formed many of my opinions on the character of the people of Pixley from the way they behaved after The Storm. Again, that’s a post of its own.

It’s a proud little town, proud of its history, proud of its position in the county. Laura Ingalls Wilder mentioned it in a book. The second-lowest temperature ever recorded in the state was here. There is even a commemorative plaque where a scientist helped create and introduce a variety of plant that, well, we’ll just say it’s pretty big around here. When I mention the chickens, some people seem offended. This is the city! You don’t have chickens in the city. I mentioned how many truly big cities allow chickens. Chicken-keeping is quite popular. Then they give me a look as if they are questioning my sanity.

They may have a point. I took my dog out this morning, and a single hen came over hoping for a handout. I talked to her while my dog sniffed every inch of ground in the yard. My dog never talks back. The hen clucks and squawks as if she is conversing with me. It’s really quite comforting.




A Valentine’s Day Sunday

It was a rainy Sunday morning, and My Taller Half and I were up early getting ready for the 45-mile drive to our church in Beach Town. I looked out the window to see if the neighbor’s Manx kitty was out front. He didn’t appear to be there, and I told my Taller Half so.

But the girls are.

I craned my neck to see a black hen and a red hen standing on our welcome mat. I hoped they didn’t leave any presents. He just washed the front walk.

It was Valentine’s Day, and a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a balloon graced the top of our upright piano. It was a big day. We were planning a trip to Red Lobster for lunch!

As we walked out the door, the girls were still out front, but when they saw us get in the car and pull away, they headed back to their home. There were three cars at the four-way stop, all going in different directions. That’s a traffic jam in Pixley. Everyone waited and waved for the other to go first.

Someone was out early, loading their horse in a trailer at the vet’s office. I hope they keep him covered and out of this cold rain, said my Taller Half.

It was in the low 40s. I’m pretty sure that horses are fine outside. Horses live outside where it snows.

You know I have a tender heart.

He does, and that’s why the neighbor’s cat and the other neighbor’s hens like to visit. And the pup next door. And all the birds at the bird feeder. It’s like being married to St. Francis of Assisi … if he occasionally had the mouth of Samuel L. Jackson.

There is a state highway that goes from Pixley to Beach Town. It’s a two-lane road, but they are making it wider. The prospect of the increased traffic that will pass from Other State through Pixley to Beach Town has many business owners very happy. We are anxious about it. The good side is it has done wonders for our property values, even in this terrible economy. By the time Pixley gets too big, we might be able to move to Bugtussle — if any town like Bugtussle still exists in the near future.

We prefer to take the back roads to church. As we crossed the overpass for the Big Interstate Highway, MTH asks, How many cars do you see?

I looked to the west. Six, and another three in the distance.

I have two trucks and eight cars, he reported from the east.

Pretty busy for a rainy Sunday morning. It’s a thing we do, like guessing the Days Without An Accident at the lumbermill.

On the back road, we pass the woods of a state park, homes, and farms. We always point out the cows and horses. Never gets old.

After church, a wonderful lunch, and errands, we headed home. We counted the cars on the overpass. It was busier in the afternoon. The hens came back to welcome us. The Manx dropped by, too. Time for naps. We have a movie night planned. It was another lovely day in Pixley. Contentment. That’s what I feel here. Contentment. It’s the feeling you get when you know there are many other wondrous things out there, but you can’t think of any place else you’d rather be, or anyone else you’d rather be with.

41 Days

Earlier today, My Taller Half (MTH) sent a text. It read simply 41 days. I knew instantly what he meant. It wasn’t a countdown to a holiday or big event. It wasn’t a milestone in his life, like 41 days without smoking, drinking, or watching cat videos. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t drink. And a day without cat videos? Not a chance! But it was a milestone of sorts.

When we travel to the Big City, we pass through a town that is not as big as Pixley. There isn’t a major chain motel there. There is no Walmart. Next to a Bingo parlor, there is a Piggly Wiggly, which those in the know simply call The Pig. There’s a Hardee’s, a pizza joint, and the ubiquitous Dollar General. The biggest business in town is the lumber mill.

Thousands of acres of pine trees surround Pixley, many on tree farms. Daily, big tractor-trailers laden with pine head to the lumber mill, where the strong, pleasant scents of pine and sawdust perfume the air.

In front of the lumber mill is a sign with numbers in lights — 41 Days without an Accident.

Since we pass the sign regularly, MTH and I pay attention to the numbers. We have become invested in them. We have friendly wagers on what the numbers will read that day.

It was up to 308 Days Without an Accident once, maybe higher, before a crane tipped over, sending its operator and the accident-free days plummeting. It was a real disappointment to us, though we were happy that no serious injuries were reported. The numbers climb for a while, then suddenly, they fall again. There aren’t many newspapers in our area. Sometimes we’ll search the news on the internet, trying to find out what happened. When we can’t, MTH and I come up with our own stories..

“Steve! What did you do this time? Don’t run the crane without a second cup of coffee!”

“Oh, that Jake was at it again! He probably had liquor in his Thermos! Must have bought it there, because Pixley is in a dry county.”

(Apologies to any Steve or Jake who may work at the lumber mill. We know you did nothing wrong. Well, we’re pretty sure anyway.)

When I lived in my last Big City — more than five times the size of the Big City here — things were always changing. Stores and restaurants opened and closed constantly. You never knew what you would find when you went out. I doubt much has changed in the little town with the lumber mill since they built the Hardee’s.

A little over a year ago, they built a new Taco Bell in Pixley. There were lines of cars circling the building for about a month. Now there’s a new Popeye’s about to open. It is beginning to worry us. We’re growing too fast. MTH and I are already eyeing the land in the country we will buy when we win the lottery. Don’t get me wrong — Pixley is no Big City — but things are getting a bit crowded here.

We like the quiet. We prefer the serenade of birds, cicadas, and the evening froggy chorus to the wailing of sirens. We like life without traffic jams. We like cheering for the guys and gals at the lumber mill when their accident-free days climb. It makes us smile. It’s one of the things we love about living here. Things that wouldn’t seem all that important in the BIG CITY are important here, and they should be. The opening of a new business and the safety of the men and women at the lumber mill are worthy of celebration.