One of the things I most love about living in a small town is the realness of life and people you meet. There is little reason to be phony or put on airs in a small town, because everyone know who you really are anyway.
Last night, we caught a glimpse of the genuine, in what I call a Norman Rockwell Moment. One of those moments of pure Americana, where no one cares about the Healthcare Bill, or the price of gas, where bipartisan affiliation plays no part, where social standing has no effect.
After we ate dinner last night, Hubby asked what I wanted to do. I immediately said, let's go to Jordan's. Jordan's Soft Serve is an ice cream parlor owned and operated by hubby's old neighbors, who live next to my mother in law. They make the BEST banana splits in the world, and I wanted to have one. He agreed.
So we go, and we order our banana split as we chat to the owner, who promptly tells us, its on the house, a "wedding gift" (we have been married almost 6 months). He also upgrades it from a small to a large. So we totter into the section where the booths are, and I select a booth next to an older couple. A large party of people, maybe about 6-8, were at a table a few feet away. Suddenly, the owner comes out to that table to wish one of the women at the table Happy Birthday.
As he does, the man from the table behind us starts to play the Happy Birthday Song on a harmonica. I can not tell you how long it has been since I heard a harmonica. I think it was actually the woman's birthday too, which I am guessing was his wife, so a mini celebration happened via harmonica. He then launched into Danny Boy, and How Great Thou Art.
Moments like these only happen in small towns. And while this may not be the same small town I was raised in, this is now my small town, and I am quickly growing to love it.