I grew up in a small farm town - St. Johns, Michigan - and lived there until I was 16. Memories of St. Johns come back to me when I spend time here in Gue de la Chaine, because the kids here have the good luck, as I did, to grow up with simple pleasures like:
* Air that always smells sweet. Like grass, or hay, or flowers, or lavender, or rain...
* Friends that they've known since birth. They have a multitude of brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas watching over them. "It takes a village" has become a cliche, but it's true...
* Proximity to the natural world. They can spend hours lying in the grass, watching shining black beetles or fluffy little sparrows hopping... and play the game of "how still can you be? How close can you get?" Their hands get used to the stiffness of horsehair, the fluffiness of feathers, and finding treasures like polished chestnuts in the woods or rocks sparkling underwater at the lake.
* Feeling a part of the community, completely and irrevocably. As a child in a small town, you know your role in each event, from weddings, funerals and holidays to musical events and charity fundraisers. The year goes by in dependable cycles, based on traditional celebrations...
* Learning from some of the same teachers who taught your parents... and sometimes call you by your parent's name. I had a geometry teacher who called me "Jeannie" throughout my entire sophomore year of high school.
And the irony of it all is that most small town kids can't wait to get away from all the stifling closeness, the fact that everybody knows what you're doing, and get to where the action is - to the city, to a larger life - as did I. And now that I'm older, that slow village life, full of small pleasures, seems so appealing.
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