My Town

Posted by Debby on 26th July and posted in Cultivating Communities

The other day I went into Springville to get my hair cut. We had a little time to kill, so Emilee, Rachel, Matt and I drove up to the post office. I walked in to make a copy and on the way out stopped by the community bulletin board. Notices for hay for sale, housecleaning services, a local kid advertising as a pet sitter. There were lost and found pets, a jet ski for sale, the Avon lady advertising (hey, that’s MY mom!). You could get a feel for the community by what was on that board. Outside there were kids on skateboards, shaggy local dogs, and old ladies walking down the road.

We went across the street to the Hamburger Stand. I remember going here when I was a teenager, going down the list of Weird Burgers, deciding on which milkshake I wanted that day. It’s a little place, family owned and operated, and lots of local kids have earned their fun money flipping burgers and ringing up customers there. I remember seeing it bursting at the seams on Rodeo weekend and at the Apple Festival, people crowding the counter to get a soda or fries. Other times, I remember being the only one in there, chatting with Keith behind the counter, or Janell at the register.

As I sat at the table sharing fries and ice cream with the kids, looking at the wood slabbed walls, the menu above the counter, names carved into the tables, lots of good memories flooded back to me. First kisses and holding hands at the outside tables. Laughing, talking, horsing around with friends. It occurred to me that this place was the heart of Springville. It’s walls contain collective memories of the people of this community. It’s the place I want to bring people when I show them where I call home.

The pace of life is quiet here, in stark contrast to the rest of my world. I like walking down the street here and having people say “hey”. I like having a grocery store that will let me come back later if I leave my wallet at home. I like living in a place where everyone knows where the “Big White Barn” is. They know who I am, they know where I come from, they know me. I don’t get up there often enough, but when I do, I feel recharged. It’s my town. It’s my community. It’s my history.

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