Where everybody knows your name

This afternoon I called down to the local bar to see if the upstairs restaurant was open this evening.  The restaurant is only open on Thursday and Friday nights but is subject to close at the owner's whim so I just wanted to call down and double check before we headed down with the entire family.

Me: Hey there.  Is the restaurant upstairs open tonight?

Bartender: Yep.  Is this Diane?

Change is not always a good thing

Lincoln grew up here in town and remembers what it used to be like before all of the developers came in and took down all the trees to put up matching houses. Today Hannah was going to a birthday party and we had to look up the address.

Me: The house is on Reservoir Lane. Do you know where that is?

Link: No. There were no "lanes" when I was growing up.

(showing it to Lincoln on google maps)

Link (noticing there is no nearby water shown on google maps): So where is the reservoir?

Me: They obviosly filled it in to put up the houses.

Small town kindness

Back in October I posted about how much I love the Super 8 in New Hampton, IA. Click the link to read the story if you haven't already read it but basically it's about how small towns in Iowa still exist in a bubble of friendliness and customer service (in the case of the hotel).

Tonight I was talking to my family and they said that "Aunt Sandy is putting together a casserole and then heading back over to the house". When I went back to Iowa for Grandma's funeral eight weeks ago we were headed to the house from the airport and told Mom and Dad that we would likely stop for lunch on the way and they said "Don't bother....there is plenty of food here that people have dropped off." It also amazed me that at the reception after Grandma's funeral, where they had sandwiches for hundreds purchased from the store, the rest of the food was donated by townspeople and family. There were dozens of small bowls of potato salad, pasta salad, deviled eggs, and desserts. Everyone pitched in.

I asked Lincoln tonight that if, God forbid, something happened to one of his parents or another family member, would the house be swamped with casseroles and such? He looked at me like I was crazy. He said "No, they would probably send flowers. It's just not done that way out here." I find that so sad. I was so moved and so amazed by the outpouring of love through small gestures at Grandma's funeral and I can only imagine it will be the same way at Linus's. Lincoln did admit that in the heavily Italian and Irish families around here that it would likely be similar but that for his family it probably wouldn't happen.

The other thing that amazed me at Grandma's funeral was the number of small donations that poured in through the envelopes provided at the funeral home. There were hundreds of envelopes - most containing $5 each - that added up to almost $2,000. A little bit goes a long way. When I came out of Grandma's house after the reception my father and his seven siblings were sitting around a long table going through all the envelopes and writing out thank you notes. They had a great assembly line going but I still pitched in to help. Uncle Joe, Uncle Linus, and I worked as a team at the end of the table. I never imagined in a million years that eight weeks later I'd be preparing to attend Linus's funeral. And that's Reason #389 that I burst into tears today.

I love living in a small town

I'm always entertained when I go to vote in Upton. When I give my name I never know what kind of response I'm going to get. My in-laws have been very active in town politics over the years and my brother-in-law and sister-in-law have older children so they've been around the school system for awhile. Overall my husband's family has been living in Upton since the late 1960's.

At Voter Check-In:

Me: Hi. I'm Diane Snow.

Volunteer: Oh hi! Are you Kyle Snow's mother?

Me: Nope. That's the other Diane Snow. Kyle is my nephew.

Volunteer: Oh. Here's your ballot.

At Voter Check-Out:

Me: Hi. I'm Diane Snow.

Volunteer: Hi! You're Lincoln's wife, right?

Me: Yep.

Volunteer: We've had this conversation before, haven't we?

Me: Yep. Every election. Good to see you again.

Volunteer: You too. Have a great day.

The funny thing is this conversation doesn't only take place at the polling station. I get this a lot. Most recently when I was asked to show my ID buying beer (yes, at the age of 31!!!) at the liquor store.

Cashier: Diane Snow? Which of the Snows are you related to?

Me: All of them. But I'm married to the youngest one.

Cashier: Oh Lincoln! That's great. His mom and I used to do Bloomer Girls together.

As for the political aspect, I don't get that as much anymore now that my in-laws are no longer as active in town politics but this is generally how that conversation goes.

Townie: Diane Snow? Are you related to Bob Snow?

Me: Yep. He's my father-in-law.

Townie: I love him. I see him at the town meetings all the time. He asks great questions.

OR

Townie: Diane Snow? Are you related to Gail Snow?

Me: Yep. She's my mother-in-law.

Townie: Oh....and how is that?

Gail is a real firecracker and she's a bulldog when it comes to people trying to move in and over-develop Upton. People don't always agree with her but she definitely stands up for what she believes in and I think Upton is better off for it.

But not to let you believe I don't have my own identity here in Upton - slowly but surely I'm starting to get my own local acknowledgement. Mostly from people with young children because my name is all over everything for the PTO and the Upton Moms.

Me: Hi. I'm Diane Snow.

Other Mom: Oh! Wow. Finally a face with the name. I see your name all over the place. It's nice to meet you.

That actually freaks me out because you never know what this person thinks of you or what they expected before they met you.

But my favorite small town acknowledgement is when I go back to Iowa and introduce myself as Diane Snow, formerly Lentz, and they say: "Oh, Danny's youngest! It's great to see you." And that's 20 years after I moved away!

You see, in a small town you can always go back home again.