Wednesday, March 14, 2007

I’m Not in Lincolnton Any More…Or Am I?

Saturday morning, mom and I got up. We went to the bank. The drugstore. The grocery store. And then, as we were headed home we ran into the garbage man, George. And stopped. To chat. Extensively. Because mom and George are friends.

No – I wasn’t in Lincolnton. I was in New York City . My mom is indeed friends with the sanitation workers who rumble up our street every morning. In fact, our whole family is friendly with George and we have been for some time.

I just thought it odd, or perhaps ironic, that here I was in the big city and I found myself experiencing something I’ve come to associate with small town life. I doubt many New Yorkers could claim to know their garbage men or even their postmen or paper delivery boys. Perhaps the guy who delivers the Chinese food maybe…

But in small towns like Lincolnton, you know everyone. You stop and say hi. You gossip. You can’t avoid it. That’s how life is lived. And on Saturday, it was nice to see that’s how life is occasionally lived on East 73rd Street in Manhattan too.

And if that ain’t country, I’ll kiss your…