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Carol Perkins: Let's go to town

Town was Edmonton, Kentucky. In the 50's the population was probably around twelve hundred people and it isn't much larger today. Sitting on a knob in South Central Kentucky with nothing but a flashing red light at the four way stop, Edmonton could hardly be called a place of excitement to outsiders, but it was home. It would be home to me except for my four years away during college.
Next previous column: Carol Perkins: The Christmas with the best present ever

By Carol Perkins

"Let's go to town," I would say to my dad from the backseat on our way home from my grandmother's when I was no more than seven or eight. It was less than a mile from our house so taking a short ride around the town square would take very little time.

He didn't ask me why I wanted to go to town, but rather than turn into our driveway, he continued up the hill and around the town square slowly, so I could absorb displays in the store windows and the streetlights glimmering against the black of the pavement. Then we went home.




Town was Edmonton, Kentucky. In the 50's the population was probably around twelve hundred people and it isn't much larger today. Sitting on a knob in South Central Kentucky with nothing but a flashing red light at the four way stop, Edmonton could hardly be called a place of excitement to outsiders, but it was home. It would be home to me except for my four years away during college.

As the New Year begins, I have been thinking about my hometown and what I have gained from never leaving and what I might have lost by remaining. As a child I was happiest with lights and action and adventure. That is why I am drawn to cities rather than beaches. Given the choice between New York City and Maui, I will take New York City.

There is something about the rushing of the traffic, the throngs of men and women dashing up and down streets, running across lanes of traffic to reach a destination, the neon lights, and the idea of always having something to do that lure me there. The never-ending silence of the city at work or at an event or a play is enticing. In reality, I am no longer fast enough for the city.

I have grown accustomed to a sauntering way of life, so even though I might think that city life would be a good one, in reality I know I am not wired for it long term. Locals don't rush across the streets in my hometown because they don't have to watch out for taxis or nervous drivers or tour buses. Being in a hurry is for young parents rushing from work to a gym for a ballgame.

Waving a "thank you" to a driver (who is likely someone we know) who stops to allow us to cross is the norm in my town.

As for the lights, I still drive around the square to see displays in the windows and admire the beauty of the courthouse and the justice center and the lawn the Homemakers care for seasonally. The burning light from the lampposts in the courthouse yard are all I need to feel the warmth of my hometown.

I might wish I lived in a big city while I am there, but not by the time I get back home. If I had not grown up and remained in my hometown, enjoying the action and adventure it offered, I would, as Garth Brooks said, have missed "The Dance."


This story was posted on 2016-01-06 13:39:06
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