Small Town Life

Before I begin this blog post, I would like to say that I have had two ideas for blog posts floating around in my head for about two weeks now. The first one is on traveling/distance and illness/death, which will be coming in the next few weeks, and the second one is this blog post, on small town life. It isn't so much about traveling, more about what I leave behind when I do travel.

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I live in a small suburban town in northeast NJ. There isn't much diversity and there isn't much to do. And everybody basically knows everybody.

I have to say, I hated my town when I was a teenager. I really, truly counted down the days until I could leave for college. This hatred is probably one of the reasons that I went so far away for college, as far as I could possibly go without crossing an ocean.

Let me backtrack. I'm a bit different. Not in the "special snowflake" way, but mostly the problem is sometimes I have trouble in social situations. I'm awkward. I'm much, much better now, but I spent a lot of time growing up not really knowing how to act around people. I was different enough, though, to become an easy target for teasing. Middle school was basically hell, which is one of the reasons that I didn't go to my public high school. It basically drove me to the brink of suicide. It was terrible.

High school was a little better, but I still lived in my town. Does anybody remember the "xanga" phase? You know, like before/during the time period when livejournal was popular, lots of people had xangas and myspaces (I feel ancient talking about this) and wrote about the "trials and tribulations" of teenage life. Yes, I had one of those, and I rediscovered it recently. I definitely had more than one blog post about how crappy my town was and how it sucked, and really, all the stuff a person says when they hate where they are from.

I have to be honest, I meant it at the time, but now I look back and it is just stupid. I was stupid. But then again, if I had never left, never traveled, I probably would not have realized this.

My perspective has changed.

Today, I look around, and I can't imagine growing up any place but where I grew up. This place may not be perfect, but it is my town. For a 1.09 square mile town, we have had quite a few tragedies that have united us. We lost somebody on 9/11. We had a child die a few years ago, my best friend's youngest sister's friend. A few years before that, half of family died when they were hit by a car as they were walking to the elementary school. Most recently, we lost a Marine. And each time these things happened, the outpouring of love and support were overwhelming. The people of the town really came together to show how much it meant to be part of this community.

When I think about having children (and I really don't think about this often), I think I want them to grow up in a small suburban town. The support system here is wonderful. Although, I have to admit, it can also really be a downer when everybody knows your business. But still, it is kind of wonderful.

After spending a few years in Los Angeles, I started to believe that the impersonal was better. The less you invest yourself in other people, the less you get hurt. Yes, certain communities within LA unite and take care of each other, but it is, at it's heart, a city. And cities just do not have that same support that towns have. It was weird to come back. Maybe my dreams are too big for where I grew up, but what big dreams aren't?

My dad grew up in this town. My grandparents still have a house here.

After being gone for 4 years, it is amazing to come back and have a conversation with people that I haven't seen in years. It's also funny when somebody says something along the lines of "How old are you now? I remember when you were as tall as my knee!" It really, truly amazes me how much people can be invested in the lives of the people within their town. It is beautiful.

So, for anybody reading this who has had to listen to me rant about how terrible my town is, I take it back, I apologize. My town is amazing. My town is wonderful. It has it's faults, no doubt, but it is my home.