This is the Life: The small-town difference

A number of years ago we began to devote the second page of the Advance to little snippets of news that were too small to devote a story to, but important nonetheless. We lifted, with permission, the title The Small-Town Difference from a brochure created by local artist Nancy Pridham. While we have no research to back it up, we suspect that the collection of items and photos has become as popular with readers as our letters to the editor and police news.

It’s a rare day in this business when evidence of the small-town difference is not to be found. Yesterday I ran into Candace Foy (she was the one with her sandalled foot in a puddle) on the sidewalk and we talked about our excitement over this weekend’s opening of the aquatic centre. We both served on the design team and Candace was without doubt one of the strongest voices — when you visit the centre and see something you really like, Candace was probably one of its strongest advocates.

During our discussion, we talked a bit about the lineage of organizations and volunteers who worked so long and hard to bring an indoor pool to Creston. It was back in 1986, she said, that an organization was formed by people who wanted to see a year-round pool replace the outdoor one that only opened for about three months each summer. She wasn’t here then, but I was, and I still remember arguing with some of those folks about the wisdom of a Pennies for the Pool drive.

The plan was to collect enough pennies to cover the arena floor, I think. My position was that by collecting pennies, the group was suggesting that we could somehow build an aquatic centre on small donations alone. They countered by saying that it would rally schoolchildren who could, in turn, inspire their parents to get behind the project. A later incarnation of that organization would successfully solicit thousands of dollars in pledges from local residents and spearhead the successful borrowing referendum.

The small-town difference is apparent in all walks of life, but maybe nowhere more than in the arts community, where we are regularly treated to art shows at local businesses, the 15th annual ArtWalk, Focus on Youth and College of the Rockies summer programs. We don’t have to rely on big city galleries to see art. Instead we get to rub shoulders with our creative neighbours as they host openings, read from their newly-published books and organize workshops for anyone interested, no expertise required.

In our little town we have our share of beefs about all levels of government, but we get to attend meetings, chat with our representatives on the street or over the back fence and interact with them as regularly as we choose. We get personal service in stores, we wave to the Terasen gas guy or the telephone installers as they drive by and we know the folks in our library, our hospital and any number of public services that are important to us.

City folks often wonder how we tolerate living cheek-by-jowl with each other, but they really have no clue that familiarity does not have to breed contempt. They don’t hear stories about stolen bicycles being returned to their owners before they have been reported missing, about a pharmacist who goes beyond the call of duty to help a customer or an optometrist who meets a patient in his office on a Sunday morning to check out a possible eye emergency.

The small-town difference is full of personal, often amusing stories to those who embrace it. Not so long ago a police officer pulled in front of my oncoming, very recognizable little truck so he could have a chat, only to realize, on closer inspection, that I wasn’t driving it. I was away and a friend had borrowed the truck. And this week I walked into the Broaster House for lunch, not having been in since sometime during the winter. A brain freeze kicked in and I couldn’t remember what I wanted to order. “What do I always have?” I asked the smiling and patient Joan Morris. Without batting an eye she wrote out my order, then handed me a daily newspaper to read while I ate. That, my friends, is the small-town difference in a nutshell. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Lorne Eckersley is the publisher of the Creston Valley Advance.

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