You turn the corner down a twisting back road lined by oak trees you’ve counted every day since you were four years old. As you come up the hill onto Main Street, you pass the playground where you had your first kiss, the church where you learned about your faith, the cemetery where your grandparents are buried.
Driving through the town that made you who you are, you smile. For all of the years in high school when you dreamed you would leave and never come back, you wanted nothing more than to wave goodbye to this place in your rearview mirror. Then college starts, people come and go, and you’re left realizing that most of what has made you into the person you are lives on in warm summer nights trekking down dusty trails, the sound of Nanny cooking eggs and bacon in her kitchen, and the countless hours you spent thinking, “What’s so great about this place anyway?”
Small Town, USA molded me into the man that I am today. From teachers to preachers, God and my Mama, the people and places I wanted to leave behind have left a mark on my life, on my soul, that I can never erase.
Honesty is ALWAYS the best policy.
When I was in second grade, I got called into the principal’s office. The teacher had, of all things, caught me spitting into a fan. Yeah, I was a REAL rebel. On that walk down to the office, I thought I had two choices. One: Lie and say it never happened, that Ms. So-and-so was crazy and just thought she saw me spit into that fan. Two: Tell the truth and face the consequences—the dreaded paddle.
Walking into the dark, scary world of that office I had never seen before made an honest man out of me. “Yes, Mr. Principal, I spit into the fan.” A few minutes, a few swats, and a lot of tears later, I left that office with a feeling I didn’t expect—pride. I think it was something my grandma had said to me before. “Telling a story is only good for one thing: entertainment.” Those life lessons, homespun and homegrown as they are, made me realize the important value of truth, even in the face of terrifying unknowns.
Faith can come with questions.
Growing up, my family was in church every time the doors were open. I was in my church-best twice on Sundays and on Wednesday night for Bible Study. My dad was a deacon and my mom taught just as many Sunday school classes as she did classes at the local elementary school. Coming from a family that was seen as so faithful and such a role model for other families put a lot of pressure on me. Every time a curse word slipped out or I caught myself wanting an Abercrombie shirt that I didn’t have, I felt like I was letting someone down. Sometimes I thought that I would never be good enough to live up the expectations I felt my grandparents, my parents, and God had set for me.
Then one night, the preacher said something that I remember to this day, word-for-word. “If you’re like me, you will find yourself trying to please everyone at the same time. You’re human. You want everyone to look at you and think, 'Now THAT is a Christian,' but, I’m sorry to tell you…this will never happen. You will never be able to please everyone, but if you are sincerely doing your best to be kind and love God more than anything, people will see that and true Christians will love you for who you are and Whose you are.” It taught me that, yes, it’s OK to be unsure of yourself. Something as important as faith comes with doubts, questions, and moments where you feel that you can never be that perfect person. And the truth is that you can’t. Perfection is unattainable, but you can strive to be the best person for the world around you and those in it.
Life will ALWAYS be a little crazy.
Growing up in a place where everyone knows everything wasn’t always easy. You couldn’t even sneak off for a night swim without someone calling your mom and telling her that you were up to no good. When generations of parents, grandparents, and even great-grandparents live within a five-mile radius of one another, things can be a little…hectic. Uncles and aunts refuse to speak to each other over a misplaced Christmas card. Your best friend and his girlfriend (who also happens to be a very good friend) go through a VERY messy break-up. You stress about college, relationships and everything in between, and you have nowhere to go where someone isn’t going to sit you down and ask, “Now what’s eatin' at you?” And I think that is truly amazing.
I didn't come from the middle-of-nowhere. I came from a community of people who look out for their own. They are as loyal as people can be and would walk through Hell to make sure that all of us have the opportunity to leave this place and experience the world. Do they want us to leave them behind? No. They cry when they see us go. But I want them—all of them (good and bad)—to know that we never truly leave. We may live hundreds of miles away and we may not always make it home for the Watermelon Festival, but we carry with us every day a little piece of home. This town, our home, will always be a part of us because it has made us into the people who were ready to leave and show the world what Small Town, USA can do.
