Trout Whisperer ...A small town, the biggest-best-place on earth

If you never lived in a small town, you wouldn’t know that everyone who did not only knew the police chief’s first name, you knew their kids first names, because they played on the local football team, maybe bagged your groceries on Saturday afternoon, once pranked the bank president in town, but he couldn’t be mad at those kids, cuz his or her kids were in on it.

You’d know the postal delivery person by the hitch in there stride from that leather strapped bag hanging on their hip for the last 20 years, every member of the local VFW, and what lady every spring had the earliest, brightest tulips, and she made sure everybody knew it too.

Which preacher pastor or priest lived out his or her sermons, and met your eyes, eye to eye, because they didn’t not understand sin, they forgave it, like a good neighbor is supposed to. Pothole on fourth, and who down at the city could care less, they lived up on sixth avenue, about as smooth as the Indy raceway. Why the flag on the fifth tee, never leaned the way you like. Hardware stores whether it be spring, summer, winter or fall, always stocked full, not only on canning jars, every size, but lids, seals and pickle crisp too. Gas station, fix yer flat, air up yer tire, give you a better weather forecast than the evening news, might even tip you off about a brunch up at the town hall just today at noon. You can get there quick, and say could you bring me back one, here’s some cash, it’s a fundraiser for the local high school band, my Molly plays the flute, and they;re serving up the local grocer’s home smoked brats. Ahh, they are so good grilled and you get the bun, brat, onions, kraut, chips and a soda for $2.50. But you can leave extra and they’ll thank you for it. They’ll say, thanks for stopping, and then, right then and there, you know, you lived in a small town.

- The Trout Whisperer