The best things never do.
I graduated high school in a smallish Nothing Ever Happens Here town. Back then the High School was a spread out single story building. We roamed first hall, second hall, and long hall in little cliques of like minded friends, but we treated everyone else with kindness, too, maybe because we were half hometown kids and half military brats who understood differences are just a part of life. Weekends were made for bonfires and beer drinking in one field or another, and for running through woods and briar patches if the deputies showed up. There were 3 small theaters in town offering a choice of 7 movie screens and a bowling alley that is still open 30 years later. We drove around town burning our .78 to the gallon gas, and usually ended up parking and hanging out in front of Hardees or Walmart listening to music and telling teenage stories. They run the kids off for that these days though.
I moved back to this town a few years ago. The population has grown. Where I once sat at a main intersection red light staring at 10 other cars, there is now a line in every direction that doesn't appear to end. Big name businesses are moving in, and this year those 3 theaters have been replaced by a huge reclining seat filled megaplex cinema experience. The high school was ripped apart by the tornado of 2007, and what looks like a college campus was built to replace it a few miles away. Out on a country road about 5 miles from the center of town they are building a monstrous entertainment venue where nationally known bands will play. It has a water park and cabins and rv spots and a fine dining restaurant and courses for mudding, with plans for a host of competitive and interactive events for both kids and adults. The list goes on. Even the bathrooms include marble counters.
So much has changed.
This morning I approached the corner store behind a man who hadn't seen me. He opened the door, realized someone was walking toward it to exit, and stepped back holding the door open. The man inside the store stopped walking and motioned for me to come in first. The man holding the door insisted, no you please come out first. The man inside pointed at me smiling, making the first man apologize and step back further so I could walk in. It was a straight up traffic jam of kindness.
So much hasn't changed, too.
I moved back to this town a few years ago. The population has grown. Where I once sat at a main intersection red light staring at 10 other cars, there is now a line in every direction that doesn't appear to end. Big name businesses are moving in, and this year those 3 theaters have been replaced by a huge reclining seat filled megaplex cinema experience. The high school was ripped apart by the tornado of 2007, and what looks like a college campus was built to replace it a few miles away. Out on a country road about 5 miles from the center of town they are building a monstrous entertainment venue where nationally known bands will play. It has a water park and cabins and rv spots and a fine dining restaurant and courses for mudding, with plans for a host of competitive and interactive events for both kids and adults. The list goes on. Even the bathrooms include marble counters.
So much has changed.
This morning I approached the corner store behind a man who hadn't seen me. He opened the door, realized someone was walking toward it to exit, and stepped back holding the door open. The man inside the store stopped walking and motioned for me to come in first. The man holding the door insisted, no you please come out first. The man inside pointed at me smiling, making the first man apologize and step back further so I could walk in. It was a straight up traffic jam of kindness.
So much hasn't changed, too.
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