Hometown is a word that suggests a simple definition. It’s the place of memories, both good and bad, the place of Mom’s home cooking, the alma mater, the first kiss and the first drive.
Many couldn’t wait to leave their small hometown where everyone knew everyone and, unfortunately for some, they knew about each skeleton in the closet. But I would dare to venture that as we have aged our memories of our hometown have begun to glow a little brighter. Many folks in today’s busy connected lives are hungry for the simpler times they remember fondly.
It is these fond memories, this hunger for a pace of life that’s a little slower and more personable, that has folk from all over moving back to their hometown or one that reminds them of the idyllic life image in their hearts and minds.
One only needs to go for a short leisurely drive in the countryside to see the subdivisions being built at a furious pace as more and more folk move into our rural towns, searching for their piece of heaven on earth, the place where their soul can breathe easy and rest.
Then something begins to change, the idyllic lifestyle that comes with the remoteness of country living doesn’t carry the convenience of modern life. So modern conveniences are wanted and purveyors of business seize the opportunity and build the things modern folk want — and suddenly, seemingly overnight the small town has ballooned into a much larger city. This is both exciting and a little sad, because at times it seems as we move from a little town into a larger city, we begin to lose the one thing that unites all small southern towns — hospitality.
Folks stop front porch sitting, stop waving at every car they pass, and they begin to build emotional fences and start to see neighbors as outsiders.
The small town I grew up in was a cotton mill town. Everyone had the same ailment, they were all broke and working hard, long hours, making cotton cloth to be sold for another small town to turn into garments. Because we were not rich in possessions we all relied on each to get by. We worked together, lived together, worshiped together, and became a close knit family who enjoyed our small town life together. It was the unity of a life that required all of us that created a place where kids in the neighborhoods played together and old folk would sit on the front porch swing over in the evening, sipping on ice tea.
If we want to have a town that resembles our memories, then folks we have to be the people we remember. Wave at a stranger, speak to your neighbor, go for a stroll in the evening and end up at your friend’s house. Be hospitable, it costs us not one red penny to just be nice. The southern charm wasn’t the roads, sidewalks and ball fields, it was the folk being neighborly, not to get something from you, but to be something to you, a neighbor.
Neighbors being neighbors is what built the small town life that so many hunger for in this modern age. It isn’t the size of the town, it’s the size of the people’s hearts.
Southern hospitality isn’t a phrase, it is the lifestyle that makes folks feel safe, secure, wanted and most importantly home.
