The joys of 'Hickdom'
We often pause in gratitude to consider the blessings of living in a small, rural Iowa town.
And, as those blessings are recognized and recalled each day, something always seems to pop up that solidifies those beliefs of how good we have it living in such a great community, and the unique and convenient advantages we all share.
We're about two minutes away from everything we like to do - every game we like to play or watch, every business we like to shop, every friend we want to visit, every school, clinic and church we attend, every errand we must run...
As we were viewing a series of photos consisting of various local crowd shots the other day, it dawned on us that you know you live in a small town when you can identify people by the back of their head!
Yes, indeed, we were able to identify about a dozen residents in the photos simply by seeing the backs of their heads!
As we commented and laughed about this, we began sharing other "small town" experiences that enable us to know and identify our fellow Cherokeans.
A prime one is the following: "Do you know so and so?" If you hesitate, the questioner continues, "You know, he drives a red pickup, no topper, missing a rear mud flap..."
Oh, yeah, we reply. We know him. That's Bill. His wife plays the flute. He served in Vietnam. Purple Heart. The works. A real hero. Heckuva guy. Great family. Man, can that guy grill a steak. He wears XXL. Never miss their garage sale. They lost a big evergreen tree and a hammock in the tornado. His son goes to Western Iowa Tech. Criminal Justice. Wants to be a cop. His daughter married a minister. They live in Colorado.
Where else can such neighborly magic unfold but in small town Iowa?
You know, the Beautiful People and Jet Setters and all the other empty suits from the left and right coasts like to call us "hicks."
They should be so lucky.