Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Image by katherine of chicago via Flickr

Think of Norman Rockwell, James Stewart in It's A Wonderful Life, Judy Garland in Meet Me In St. Louis. The common thread, small town America. Stately Victorian homes surrounded by manicured green lawns and pristine gardens. Streets lined with mature Oaks, Maples, Dogwood, Beechwood, Poplar, and other trees providing a green canopy and dappled sunlight. The sidewalks are wide providing plenty of space for kids to run up and down the street on all sorts of pedaled vehicles.

Today I joined a friend for coffee in downtown Clarendon Hills. This part of Illinois is filled with small suburban towns that have grown around the railroad depot. Many have retained their Victorian charm and have tried to create little down towns that lure shoppers and others wanting to walk and talk.

Clarendon Hills is such a town. The brick station in the center of town takes you back to when riding trains were what Americans did. The platform has directional signs one pointing to the metropolis of Chicago with all it's wonder and the other pointing to the next little town on the tracks. Standing in the station one can feel, what was at one time in our past, the hustle and bustle of men in suits being waived off to work while women in dresses and kids in their clean shorts and shirts are anxiously trying to get away for a day of fun.

In the middle of the intersection of Prospect, Main, and another street was an ornate wrought iron and brick pavilion. It sits on a beautifully manicured lawn with 2 large Maple trees and some wonderful smelling flowers. I observed two ladies there talking animatedly as the other people walked past them on their way to the various shops lining the street. Both were lost in their conversation as if the world outside them did not exist.

One one side was an Ace Hardware that beckoned people in with brand new garden tools, windsocks of various bright colors, and boxes of petunias and pansies. It reminded me of an old hardware store in my hometown where the floor was wood, the air smelled of oil, and tools of every size and purpose hung from the walls. Nails, screws, nuts and bolts were sold, not by the box, but by the pound. A place where the men hung around talking about their latest projects, what was the best tool to use, and of course who had won the ball game.

Next to the hardware store was an ice cream shop that was filled with bowls of alluring candy, bins filled with tubs of ice cream of all sorts of exotic flavors, mango mint, green tea and honey, vanilla with wild strawberries, and of course the normal flavors like a dark sinful looking chocolate or a strawberry ice cream that was more strawberries than cream. Watching the adults inside I could see their eyes light up with the idea of trying a new flavor and kids staring at the candy jars, and inevitably, talking about which candy was their sugar rush of choice.

Across the street was a little restaurant with a worker busy setting up the outdoor tables and chairs waiting to beckon the evening strollers for a gastronomic feast. There was also a little shop where you could create wonderful bathrooms and kitchens. Yes they were esthetically beautiful, but even more beautiful was the simple, elegant, and utilitarian designs. There was also a salon that was filled with people getting their hair cut and styled all the while they were talking animatedly or reading the magazines about the latest styles or persona happenings.

I sat with my friend at a coffee shop that was at the south end of this vignette. From there under the natural umbrella of a large Oak tree I sat and talked and watched people go by. The scenes that played out before my eyes brought a peace I hadn't had in many a year. Lost in my thoughts and conversations, I realized that outside this world of peace and everyday life, was a world of turmoil, a world of people fighting for equality, and a world of people just making their way as best they can, but all that seemed so far away at the time.

For two hours I was taken away from being jobless, worrying about my living conditions, and all the aches and pains I had been experiencing. I was transported to a time where there were such things as simple pleasures. I was reminded that there are good things in life that are free. Watching the pure joy of kids as they race up and down the sidewalk, people taking their dogs on a leisurely stroll, waving hello to a total stranger and having a great cup of coffee with a good friend.

Yes, there is such a thing as small town America. It hasn't disappeared in spite of the large malls and shopping complexes. It hasn't become extinct due to the Walmarts and Targets. It may not be much, but it's there, and for a brief moment one can be taken away to a whole new world of possibilities.

Time for another iced venti americano with room please.