Small Town

I grew up moving a lot, and many of those years were spent in small towns. But I was born in Washington D.C., and I've lived the last twenty years in Houston. Sometimes I forget what small town is like. I reminded myself today.

It started two days ago when Katie came into my room asking - with absolutely no expectation I would say yes - if I would drive her to Cleburne, TX for a theatre workshop being taught by someone from Glee. With the world reduced to everyone being virtual neighbors, I find she is chatting with people all over the world through Twitter and other social networks. It's both frightening and fascinating to me. I spend so much time telling my kids "no" that it felt good to say, "why not." I'm on vacation, and I used to do spur of the moment things all the time. Being a mom who works, I rarely get to have unplanned fun.

So, we hit the road yesterday afternoon, just the three of us. Elizabeth had her copy of The Hunger Games and her itouch - we barely heard from her all four hours of the ride. I had forgotten how nice it can be to drive through the hill country when you're not in a hurry. Night fell as we rolled down a small state highway, and each town had a central square with a big Christmas tree still lit.

We got to Cleburne late last night, and spent the night in a Comfort Inn - much like every other Comfort Inn I've stayed in over the years. The owner was friendly, so friendly my girls wondered why it took me so long to check in. It was a recurrent theme - everywhere we stopped, things seemed to take longer, and everyone wanted to stop and talk. The exception was last night's dinner, in a small Mexican restaurant recommended by the hotel clerk. At 9:05 we were still eating and we were the only patrons left - Katie said that the waitress and host were chatting in Spanish about how long they thought we'd be, and whether or not they would get home by ten. Oops. I forgot about that part of not being in the city as well - things close down earlier.

After dropping Katie off at her workshop, I was even a little more confused. As thrilled as I was for her, that she was - well, not singing on Glee, but singing with a Warbler, from Glee; about as close as she was going to get - well, I was a little confused. This was a theatre academy for a tiny town, and a miniscule theatre. This was a television and Broadway performer and his wife whose latest project was with Brad Pitt. Why in Cleburne for about 18 kids? I found out later the guy's mom was part owner...ah, it begins to make more sense. And he got his start in that theatre. More sense again. And he'd grown up there - even more. I forgot, if you grow up in a small town, you can't wait to get out. But for most, it's still home and there's a sense of loyalty as well. A good thing, especially in the world we inhabit.

So, Elizabeth and I had a good chunk of the day to kill. I didn't want to get involved in the pre-New Year's traffic around Dallas, so we stuck with Cleburne. Drove the length of it...didn't take long. Got out and walked the length...didn't take much longer. I found there was a historical museum in the old library, so we went. First floor of the old library is filled with one man's private collection. He must have had QUITE a life, if that was his personal collection - dinosaur footprint, mammoth tusk, Kachina dolls, Kit Carson's saddle, General Cleburne's gun, turn of the century clothing, Civil War luggage - you name it, it was crammed on this one floor. Now those who know me know that I'm a history geek, and all it takes are a few artifacts and I'm content just reading and looking. I couldn't speak for hours after I left the tower of London, I had walked on so many pieces of history. This was...well...not the Tower of London, but still full of the history of lives. And there were photographs of the lives represented, letters that had been saved. In one case, there was a letter from a woman in World War 1, saying her son was missing in action and asking her cousins to pray, next to it was the notice of his death, his service photo, and a picture from his funeral. See, you can read all about wars, but until you see the lives touched by war, no one really gets it. The most touching piece was a Civil War Confederate uniform - with a picture of the local man who had worn it, as well as a picture of his wife who had spun, woven and sewn that uniform. He wore it home, only to die from his wounds two days later. I could still see the bullet hole in his jacket. Absolutely amazing.

And more amazing were the two older ladies working in the museum. They're volunteers, not paid, and have lived in Cleburne their entire lives. They hold the true history of the museum, and of the town. They were more than happy to talk - about the museum, the Layland family who donated all the items, about Christmas and Cleburne, and how hard it is to keep up with all the grant paperwork that was due by January 1st. They were in no hurry and happy to talk, to have visitors from outside of town.

After the museum, Elizabeth walked with me into a large antique store. We were greeted at the door by a growling and yipping dog the size of a large hamster. He went from growling to begging when he saw Elizabeth - she has this affect on animals. We were greeted by the owner, who asked us to excuse her son - who had just blown past us - as he wasn't much help and who knew where he thought he was going now (her words, not mine). Linda, who I felt I should have called Miss Linda out of respect, was a good deal older than my mother. She told me she had bought this business in 1981, when her husband passed of the cancer, because she needed something to keep her busy. Now she spends her days, one more piece of the past, crammed in among thousands of other items. What I managed to check out brought back many pieces of the past to me - dishes with the same pattern my grandmother had had, a travel case from the 1960's like my cousin, who was a stewardess, used to carry. Hairdryers from the 1960's, glassware like everyone's grandmother has at home, brassware, baby grand pianos, collector Coca Cola glasses, quilts. It was all thrown into the shop together, with no rhyme or reason. Linda came and found me digging through a pile of coasters, to ask me to fasten a chain of a necklace for her, because her fingers couldn't manage anymore. I did so and she told me that she'd meant to put some of her old jewelry out for sale, but decided to keep this fun piece. It was a beautiful necklace, worthy of a debutante, but didn't go so well with her turtleneck. I kept that thought to myself. Linda repeated herself a lot, and by her own admission was having trouble remembering things these days. She also said how tax laws had changed and she didn't understand all of it, but that she was going to lose half her business this coming year, because she owed money she didn't know she owed. I didn't get to look through even half of the interesting items in Linda's store, because - really - she just wanted someone she could talk with.

We crossed the street and looked through a tiny boutique that boasted salon as well, which turned out to be in the back. It was truly a full-service stop - they sell jewelry, do hair and nails, give pedicures, and have a full massage program. Elizabeth got her nails done while she was there - black with blue glitter. Me, I felt somewhat like I had drifted into an upscale version of Truvy's in Steel Magnolias. I was offered a drink, which I turned down the first time, but accepted a diet Dr. Pepper the second time through. They also offered us food, as the owner also owns two of the restaurants in town. As one of the stylists said, "no one leaves us hungry." Their regular customers sat in upscale chairs looking into wrought iron edged mirrors, sipping cokes and gossiping. One older lady was trying to walk one of the stylists through finding a picture in google, so they could style her hair to match. No lie, it was from the cover of 1952 movie. Another customer walked in and asked if the ipad being used was the stylist's Christmas present, and she replied, "oh, heck no, I got a leaf blower." Another one said, "that's better than me." Through it all, the ladies in the salon asked Elizabeth about her school, and asked both of us why we were in town. I felt like a novelty.

No one was in a hurry. Everyone had time to talk, on this day before a holiday. Everyone was still in a Christmas spirit, and there was a pace of life that just felt different. Now, don't think this means I'm ready to throw away where I live and move to small town Texas. Not even close, but it's good to visit, to find things that are out of the way, and remind myself of the parts of other lives I do like. Some qualities I need to nurture in my own life. Leaving the planned path and doing something different is good for all of us. Katie was ecstatic when I picked her up, and Elizabeth and I had an adventure of our own in the small town. Still, it's good to be home in my own bed tonight....