I was very young when I came to this house, with years of life extending out in front of me, and the house and I became great friends. Never once in all of my years of living in it has our house failed to welcome me the second I enter the door, no matter long or how short a time I’ve been away.
It was with these bits of jumbled thoughts that I left my computer, coming to a standstill in front of the window in my kitchen. From that vantage point, I could see our mail carrier walking back to his vehicle, a squirrel finding a pecan, and someone walking his dog up the street.
That was all I needed for my tired brain to decide to wander and to remind me that although I do love the city, I also understand that those of us who live in small town Texas do experience a set of perks that many will never know.
I suppose it was the mail carrier who made me think of our great friend James Holland, our first carrier back in the days when we said mailman or postman, and he actually walked his entire route.
Once, when I had not been married long, I left home with something on the stove, boiling eggs, I believe. Thankfully, James Holland smelled them as he was putting the mail in our box and in true small town Texas fashion, he ran in and saved us from what would have been total disaster in our young world.
It probably wasn’t legal, moral, or ethical by governmental standards but it sure was appreciated, oh my, how it was appreciated!
Then, there was Reg Waggoner, the president of the Comanche National Bank. You will never know how many times I have wished (with tears in my eyes) that Reg could have lived long enough for me to get old enough to understand exactly what I owe him.
You see, I was hardly out of my teens when I decided to put in my first health club, a gym I suppose it would be called today. It was in Gatesville, Texas, and I borrowed the money to establish the business from the Comanche National Bank.
Reg, for whatever reason, took me at my word that I could do what I said I could and loaned me the money on a handshake.
Did you catch that?
I said Reg Waggoner loaned me the money with a smile and a handshake, and I don’t believe anyone could have been prouder than he was when everything worked out beautifully.
I thanked the man, don’t get me wrong. However, when you’re twenty, you just don’t know that you’re twenty, do you?
When Reg Waggoner became ill, he called me to come to the bank because he wanted me to meet Donald Hall. In that meeting, Reg told me that he was ill and that I was not to worry because Donald would take care of me from there on out, and he explained to Donald that I was good for whatever I needed for the next club.
Talk about small town perks!
Mind continuing to wander, images continued to appear in front of me as I thought about our local newspaper and radio, both so good to give any of us space or time to promote our various causes.
And then, there is the way people in small town Texas show up immediately with food, flowers, and sympathy as soon as they hear of a death, and they are just as quick to help with the happy occasions. Yes, the fabulous showers given for our small town brides are truly works of art that will never make the pages of a national magazine…but they should, shouldn’t they?
Finally, I remembered how many times I’ve come home to find fresh tomatoes or cantaloupes or even a watermelon on my doorstep, and I usually never know from whom, just someone who wanted to share.
Yes, I’ve always loved the city, but there is definitely something about small town perks, isn’t there?