Living In A One Train Track Town...

 I'm no history expert, but I do recall there was a time when a railroad track running through your town meant you had access to the world...

Literally.

Times have changed.

Where we used to live, a railroad once ran through town. In fact, the town owes much of its history to that railroad. It was built by the Bamburger family and because of that railroad, the Lagoon Amusement Park came into existence. The railroad is long gone, but the park remains. 

We moved to a town with far fewer people, but they do have one set of railroad tracks that is just east of downtown running north/south. I think I've seen a train on those tracks less than twenty times in the four years we've lived here.

So, not the busiest railway out there.

The other day I was caught behind the crossing as I waited for the train to pass. It moved along at a slow space--how slow, I'm not exactly sure. Thankfully, there were only five or six cars. I guess that's what it's like living in a one train track town.

Every once in a while, a train will pass.

Main Street...U.S.A.

 Errands, errands, errands...it never seems to end, but, of course, tomorrow is the big day so some of the required errands inflicted upon us for the past several months will stop. A few days ago, while waiting for the florist to return from an appointment, we decided to check out a local store on our city's Main Street.

As we waited for the light to change, I pointed my phone camera west and captured the vanishing point of street and sidewalk. If you go far enough, the first thing to vanish is the sidewalk, followed several miles away by the street.

The perspective disappears, but so it seems is what a Main Street in a small town means to the community, at least, in other parts of the world. On Main Street small business owners open their shops, stock the shelves, make the displays as beautiful as possible, and await the fruits of their labors. They smile when tired, laugh at dumb jokes, put in long hours, and go home tired. Children ride by on bikes and skateboards. Young couples stroll past windows meant to entice. Sometimes the advertising works...sometimes, not.

It's a world I knew growing up, a world those who choose to stay understand as well. It's a world many will never know, a simpler time, a slowed-down existence. 

The vanishing point is not only an optical illusion.

Naturally, this is evolution. People evolve and so must the businesses that cater to them. Is it better, worse? Main Streets all but disappeared when shopping malls were all the rage. The same verdict befell the malls a few decades later when online shopping became king. We've only lived in this small town a few years, but the storefronts fronting this particular Main Street remain...different names, different owners, different products, someone takes a chance to see if they can make it work to improve not only their own lives, but the lives of those in the community.

After tomorrow, something else will pop up requiring us to get in the van and head to Main Street for something. I'm glad they're there on our Main Street.

Truckless In A Truck-Filled World

 I've been posting a daily picture on social media for over thirteen years. Every once in a while, a photo will generate some conversation on the interwebs. I like it when that happens...it means something I did caused others to take action, even if it's only posting a simple comment.

A few weeks ago I left church and noticed something funny...my little Subaru dwarfed by large pickup trucks, in a row, in the church parking lot. I should admit something here. I actually set up the picture--not completely--but subtly. When I pulled up to park, there were three trucks already backed in and waiting for their drivers to return after the meetings were over. There was one spot in between two of the trucks, so I backed in. I laughed when I came out...several other trucks had lined up.

I snapped a picture...

And posted it.

It was funny, but the photo also shows something about where we now live. I joke that we're "truckless in a truck-filled world." It's not completely true--not everyone owns a truck--but it certainly feels that way sometimes. Trucks are incredible machines. They serve an important function in our society, especially up here. I don't bemoan anyone who has a truck. Heck, I'd like to be numbered in their ranks, but for now, I love seeing Donk, my little Subaru parked wheel-to-wheel with the big boys. Now, Donk can't tow a travel trailer, or pull other trucks out of a ditch, but it'll get me home on snowy roads and do it using less gasoline.

Yes, my little car looks strange among the giants, but for me, I believe it belongs.

Give Thanks...For How We Used To Live

 If it weren't for the car in the far left of the picture, or the telephone/cable box just slightly right of center in front of the buildings (and, had I not adjusted the photo by removing all color...), this could be a picture of many places in America in the mid-twentieth Century. It's not...I snapped it today driving home from church.

I live about three miles from here. Where I live looks much different. Like most places, the town we call home was built in sections. Much of it sprang up when Thiokol Chemical Corporation built a rocket-building facility about twenty miles to the west. You can see the homes built during the 1950s and 1960s. They're small, a single story above ground.

Then, as farmers sold their property, new housing developments were built. They too were a reflection of their times. Larger houses, bigger yards, bigger garages--you see the pattern over and over again. Even where we live, homes built in the last twenty years. They define those who built them and those who live in them.

Still...

There's a beauty in the rural, in the structures built with wood, tin, and nails, built for livestock or to store food, and also to house those who cared for the animals, for the land.

The structures are a testament to the people who settled the high desert. They worked spring, summer, and fall to sustain them through the tough and cold winters. Then, it began all over again until they died. Most of us no longer live that lifestyle. And had those who came before not persevered, not survived, life would be much different than it is now.

When I turned down the street and saw the scene before me, it made me think of my ancestors and I'm grateful for their example. I'm also thankful there are reminders so close to where we live showing all of us, how life used to be.