Yes, it’s true. We moved up. Not in social status like the Jefferson’s,
which the title is referring to, and if you don’t know what I’m writing about,
look it up and find a fun TV Series from the past. No, we moved on up to higher
living, meaning we now live on the third floor of a senior living community
rather than in our big four-bedroom home. I promised you some blogs about our
moving day, so settle in.
It’s Friday, the end of the week. The world is spinning around us with reports of strife, bad news and so on and so forth, and if you don’t know what so on and so forth means, look it up. Yes, that might be a little snarky. I had someone tell me once I don’t write enough snark. On another note, I am plunking this out with one finger because I have an injury on my right-hand ring finger and though it is a small handicap to deal with, it does hamper my words. I downloaded a new speech to text program but I haven’t mastered it yet, maybe I never will, the one plunk method takes more time.
Now that you have an idea about the attitude you might get the direction this post is going.
In my latest mystery, #ASmallTownCanBe #Murder, I write not only a murder mystery but about the nuances of small towns. I live in a small town. I have been a small-town girl all of my life but there are some changes that make me sad. Communities in rural areas have to fight for their identity and survive with ambiance and coziness in a world sacrificed to ideas of people in offices far away that have no idea adding us to their growing number of generic businesses is not only bad for the survival of the community but for their own bottom line as well. When you become a number in the line your identity ceases to exist. At that point, even the line may disappear. When we don’t seem as profitable as the big city we are like the baby thrown out with the bathwater, and as residents, we have to fight harder for our mainstreets to survive.
We do survive in my community. We reinvent ourselves, pick up the pieces and move on. What brought about these thoughts is a couple of recent experiences. A few weeks ago an editorial in a Twin Cities newspaper mentioned that Mike Bloomberg, the presidential candidate, visited a farm outside of our community. The writer lamented that Bloomberg should have taken the time to stop in town and visit with the rest of us to get a good picture of the joys and struggles of rural America’s main streets. It mentioned what we had lost in the past years. The writer had a good point as we have lost to the changing worldly ambitions of businesses. I took a small issue with it because I felt we also gained so much and are alive and well, moving forward.
This past week I had experience with a corporation that has been contracted to pick up garbage in our city. That is the other thing that brought this column on. You see I wanted to discontinue their service in favor of a local business. A year ago when I called to cancel they lowered their rate so I stayed. In the meantime, I found a neighbor that was paying almost $30.00 higher than what I was paying. Their service kept going up and they didn’t know if they called and complained their bill might be lowered. It was then I realized none of us are probably paying the same amount for the same service. This year my bill went up and I decided to go local and not with the service the city contracts with. My surprise was how much it was going to cost me to discontinue that service and have them pick up my container. However, I wouldn’t have known this until I got the bill as it was not readily given to me in a dollar amount until I asked. It was almost as much, save for a $2.00 difference, as my three-month bill. This shouldn’t have surprised me as many of the big corporations such as cable and telephone charge you a disconnect charge, This is how I knew I grew up in the small-town world when hidden charges were not part of the small-town landscape.
It goes farther than that. A nationwide chain came into town and our dry-goods store closed. One of our banks that were in our community as long as I can remember was sold to a larger bank. The old bank employed many people and the new bank cut most of the staff, and if we need support we have to call another state. A larger chain bought our hometown’s bustling drug store that was also a gift shop and had the original old fashioned soda fountain still serving treats. The drug store hours have been cut so much that the working person cannot get in there with those hours. And the soda fountain is shut down along with the gift department greatly minimized. It is no longer about the consumer. We used to have more than one gas station. An Iowa chain came in, bought land, bought the other stations and closed them down. Those are only a few of the changes that happened when big businesses try to change the landscape of a small town. They haven’t looked into the faces of their consumers because we are a number on their chart instead of a face that is familiar.
Now that is the bad news of my rant. I and I imagine you, get tired of sitting on the phone to get service. I think we get discouraged because we feel we are not heard. I am telling you if you want to be heard, shop in a small community at a locally owned business. You will be heard. You will experience what customer service really is.
In my community when we needed a new school we built one. Our meat processing plant closed down. Our city worked hard to get a new one in place and it has provided employment and good wages. You will find it hard to get a parking place downtown on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays as our local thrift shop entice people in town and out of town to shop. They might take time to visit one of our locally owned eating places or the coffeehouse or take in a movie at our theater. The library is always busy with readers, speakers and different project days and evenings. Moving on down the street our locally owned hardware store has reasonable prices and the flowers at our locally owned flower shop will make you ooh and ah.
Our liquor store is building new. Our new industrial park is starting to fill up and our craft and quilt store is in the process of moving to a bigger building. You can have your choice of different denominations of churches and if you need to pick up a gift the local funeral home also has a room of unique items by local artisans. Locally owned for generations, there is no better place to let them take care of the loved one you have lost. There is so much more to our community with a grocery, beauty shops, newspaper, exercise facilities, depot museum, veteran’s memorial, parks. golf course and a swimming pool along with senior care facilities and senior housing, trucking firms, plumbing, electrical businesses, car repair and I could go on. Yes, we have more. And yes, we still have another locally run bank. And our local window company can make your house warmer with the right windows.
The best part of a small town is its people. They care about each other. The business owners care about their customers. We don’t give up, we regroup and move on. Did I mention we are a community somewhere around 2200 people? It is not the numbers it is the heart of the community. When one hurts we all hurt. It is what makes a community unique.
Large corporations don’t understand that our bottom line is people and that is what makes a business in a small community a success. We have to tolerate the changing business climate in the larger world. We don’t have a choice with some things. I will admit to ordering online, usually things I can’t get in town but it isn’t the same.
My long rant is done. I might also add we have our local utility too and that too is a blessing. We know them and they know us. The same can be said for our local emergency services such as fire and ambulance. And for the garbage company that seems to be playing with our heads and finances — I wish I would have known your garbage bin was such an expensive object I would have painted it gold to match its value.
If anyone knows Mike Bloomberg, tell him to come back and see a successful, small community. We are the heart of America. He missed out but don’t you. Come for a day. come for a season, we will give you a reason to come back.
P.S. We have building lots available if you want to stay for a lifetime.
Julie Seedorf is a former columnist and now is an author of eleven cozy mysteries. To find out more about her books visit julieseedorf.com
Depression is real. It is a hopeless feeling that wells up inside of you and takes over rational thought putting fears, doubt, and paranoia inside of you so that you want the pain to stop.
I know, for me, when I feel anxious, sad and overwhelmed, if I keep on the path of those feelings the endless depression will overwhelm me. Occasionally my remedy is going to bed for a day and confronting it. It is the only thing which starts me back on my journey to being able to smile and see the light.
I wasn’t feeling good this weekend and I tried to decipher if it was a real illness, meaning my stomach picked up a bug, or if my feelings of being overwhelmed with responsibility were the cause of my stomach and my tears of sadness.
I turned on meditation music and gave myself permission to wallow in bed. At first thoughts of all the things I needed to do kept churning in my mind. Did I really have to do any of them or was it my expectations that were stealing my peace? As I wandered through my life’s experiences and memories—I’m a firm believer in learning from your past to go forward to your future—I knew what was causing me to be on the edge when it came to expectations this time. I will save that for another time but what did hit me in this day of rest and meditation was the “calling.”
What was my calling? And was that part of my anxiety? We hear the question all the time from our churches, from the media, from friends and from strangers. Self-help gurus, some very good ones, promote all of us to find our calling. And our churches ask us continually “What has God called you to do?”
If I read the news first thing in the morning we have a constant bombardment from the news headlines and almost every headline has the word Trump in it, for or against. Almost every headline has a disaster in it.
My cell phone updates frequently warn about the winter storm warnings or the flood warnings. A plane crashed, kids are hungry and illegal immigrant children are being kept from their parents and mistreated. The Social Media tells us if you’re a Republican you are supposed to be upset or hate Democrats and if are a Democrat you are supposed to be against and hate Republicans.
We feel helpless in the midst of all of this chaos. So not only are we supposed to find our calling we are supposed to find it in the mess we are bombarded with everyday.
There are so many volunteers needed everywhere. I have friends that spend their lives giving and giving and giving. They are busy 24-7. Not only do these people spend their time volunteering, they also have to juggle taking care of their family and spending time with them in the midst of the good things they are doing. Have they found their calling? I often wonder about how they keep up, or do they have to make those difficult choices for society over family? I remember at times being too busy volunteering to have time to help someone in my family.
What about parents who have to run with their children, work a full time job, and still expect or are expected to be the ever present volunteer to make the world better for their kids. Have they found their calling?
I lay in my bed this past weekend pondering these questions. I do think too much. It is hard for me to just be. I pondered these questions because I felt guilty being down and depressed when so many others are spending their time helping others. How do they take care of themselves so they can give back to others?
I know we need to stop hunger, stop global warming, stop sex trafficking, stop gun violence, stop ignoring the elderly and their needs, feed the homeless and the list goes on and on and on. I know we need to raise a next generation that is respectful and responsible. These are all things I know. I read the headlines and the list seems impossible because inside all those headlines we aren’t given any good news.
I don’t know about you—these things bother me because I can’t do anything about any of it—but if I am called to do something as everyone tells me, what am I called to do? It seems when people preach or bellow about our calling they always want to make us think if we aren’t doing something out there for the world to see we are failing. We are drug down to believe rest or being busy is laziness and failure. We have to be on the move all the time. Is this what we are teaching our youngsters? Nothing we ever do is good enough in the eyes of the world.
My sister-in-law, who lived states away, years ago came to visit my mother-in-law who was in a nursing home. After visiting, my sister-in-law came to my home and told me I was called to bring my mother-in-law out of the nursing home into our home and take care of her. I felt guilty because I didn’t want to do that. Was that my call and I was ignoring it? That time I was at a good place in my life and I knew just because we had a responsibility we needed to do or had a responsibility that we could do, didn’t mean that was what I was called to do. We all do things because we need to do them. We all do things because we might be good at it. That doesn’t mean it is our calling. At least I at the time, didn’t feel like that was my calling.
As I took care of me on this lazy weekend day I felt guilty for taking the time to get it together. In reality, if someone would have asked me to do something for them that day I probably would have said yes and put my “me” day on hold. And it would have been because I have been programed to put myself second and so have many people.
The day did me good. I, in my head, know if I don’t take care of me, I can’t take care of anyone else. But yet…what is my calling? Should I feel guilty because I don’t know?
What if I said, after my day of rest that I do know what my calling is NOT. I am not called to make another person feel bad. I am not called to use my words in a way that will degenerate another living human being. I am not called to hate. I am not called to judge. I am not called to be cruel.
I don’t know what my calling is. I don’t know if I need one. If I stick to what I know I am not called to do, would that be enough? If all of us did that, would we need all the venues we need today to combat those things?
Perhaps our calling is the gift God gave us when he gave us our magnificent bodies and what we are called to do is to take care of them, and then the rest will all fall into place because we will be peaceful and whole.
Perhaps all we really are called to do is to love one another. Rather than being confused about all the material and societal mores to live up to, we could rest in our journey if we felt love from others, for others, and for ourselves. Wouldn’t the headlines be fun to read each morning? In spite of whatever is happening in our lives whether it showing others who we truly are, weathering storms, the personal and the weather related, love would get us through.
Sprinkled Notes 