I realize that my friends who are sticklers for proper grammar will look askance at the title of this new post. The title is part of a lyric from a song written by Steely Dan. The whole line is, “any world I’m welcome to is better than the one I come from.” Still grammatically unsatisfactory to some of my friends. Alas, I know I am in the wrong, but I can’t help myself. Grammar is not, however, the point of this post.
I was reminded after reading a blog written by a good friend, Karen Henry Clark, noted author and essayist, that small kindnesses can have unexpected effects on chance meetings and unanticipated effects on our psyches.
In a recent post (“Happy Birthday Out There”) Karen writes tenderly about the town in which she and her family currently live. Her post concerns an unexpected birthday gift. I won’t spoil the post but recommend you read the post for yourself.
For most of my life I have been looking for a town, a world, similar to the one Karen and her family found.
Small town intimacy, that’s the kind of place I was fortunate enough to grow up in. Ever since I lived in Morristown, I have felt an uneasy disconnect no matter where I have lived. This dis-ease is entirely of my own making and not a reflection on the many wonderful people I have had the good fortune to know and to call friends.
Just for reference, I grew up in Morristown, NJ. When I lived there, it was a town of about 17,000 people. It had a town square, tree lined streets, quaint family-owned shops, and a hint of history. George Washington camped there the winter before the battle of Valley Forge. That was a battle fought during the Revolutionary War. Washington and his staff wintered in the Jacob Ford Mansion (still standing and accessible for tours), while his troops and lower ranking officers occupied tents and hastily built log cabins hidden in the woods several miles from George’s accommodations.
I spent most of my youth in Morristown. When folks would ask, where did you grow up, I always answered Morristown. Other places in which I lived (for three or more years) were: New Orleans, Franktown, Virginia, Coudersport, PA., Rockford, IL., Rochelle, IL.,DeKalb, IL., and Elgin, IL.
When asked now, I identify myself as a small town midwestern guy.
There is a song written by the Beach Boys – “Disney Girls” – that describes my connection with small town living, where high school sweethearts still get married and random acts of kindness are the prevailing ethic. Here’s a link to the lyrics of that song. Just copy and paste it in your browser.
https://play.google.com/music/preview/Tccll5sznhbndwovmtehcjx6ju4?lyrics=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=lyrics&pcampaignid=kp-lyrics
That’s the kind of place I’d like to find. That’s the kind of place where hope and compassion might reside. That’s the kind of place where I might get to be the innocent, naive, awkward kid that I once was -a kid who was cared for and could care without fear. That’s the kind of place were noble purposes overflowed and speaking spontaneously from one’s heart was OK.
I realize that kind of place, isn’t a physical place at all: it’s an attitude. Hope is an attitude, noble purpose is an attitude.
It turns out what I am searching for is that attitude, not that place. I am looking for a place like Milan, Ohio or Bristol, Vermont. And when I finally find that attitude and that town to hold my spirit, I hope you’ll come and visit.
Please know I appreciate your generous remarks about my writing and this quiet little town. As a blogger with no high-profile recognition, it’s encouraging to know someone truly is out there, reading “Margin Notes.”
It is a wonderful thing to have lived in a number of places in my life as it brings a sense of perspective as your blog so aptly points out to the reader. I now know why every time I’m through Couldersport it rings a bell. We have visited a friend just down the road in Port Allegheny several times. I remember your having mentioned Couldersport once upon a time and now thanks to this post, I have a context. Thanks for once again stirring memories that move me to meaningful recollection about people and places I have known.
Cliff, Coudersport, Port Allegheny, Smethport …I wondered what all the “ports” were about till someone told me these were all portage points on the Allegheny River. Who knew? Thanks for reading my post and offering your comment. As you know, we bloggers live and die by the comments and suggestions we receive from readers. I trust all is well with you. Thanks again. Jon