Yesterday, I took a road-trip (for biz purposes, naturally) out to a little hamlet about an hour east of where I live. We used to have a little hamlet like this right up the road. When we moved into the house we currently occupy, we glanced out there because there were promises of new subdivisions, but we both balked at being in a town of 845 people. Any money we saved, we reasoned, by buying out there would be offset by the cost of getting to the nearest grocery (10 miles). It used to be the sort of place where you could give directions in reference to the traffic light, there being only one in town.
Needless to say, the little hamlet in question is now one of the fastest growing towns in the United States. It’s now got over 17,000 people and driving through takes forever because the many traffic lights are all timed for traffic going the opposite direction from the way you’re going (it’s interesting how they always manage to work it that way!).
The drive out was pretty – there were about as many rolling hills as one can expect in that part of Texas (there’s a fault line running through Austin that separates the flat, flat plain on the east from the hill country to the west). And then we arrived in the little town, which was little, and made our appearance at the high school. As is the case with many of the school districts in that part of the state, the high school draws from 293 square miles. There are students who ride the bus nearly two hours in each direction on a daily basis.
Our hosts took us to lunch at the restaurant in town. There’s just one. It serves a bewildering mishmash of food that is clearly prepared without any awareness of the ongoing cholestorol or obesity epidemics in the country. You want Mexican? They got it. Also, anything fried: burgers, fries, steak fingers, chicken fingers, onion rings, fries, catfish.
It was at said restaurant that I had a moment of politically incorrect weakness and thought that the local clientele was a bit … frightening. There were more than a few mullets, and several years’ quota worth of front butts *shudder* Can I eat with the Mexicans? I thought. They’re the most normal looking people in here … Needless to say, the Mexicans were eating off in a corner by themselves. I’ve mentioned before that I get nervous in places that are homogeneous (and not homo-geneous).
Our host then took us on a tour of the town, “Not that there’s much to show you,” she chirped, after pulling out of the parking lot and nearly getting us into a full on wreck by not paying attention to the pickup barreling down the road.
[flickr]http://www.flickr.com/photos/khowaga/3651392969/[/flickr]
The thing that struck me about our little tour was that nearly all of the narration consisted of “used to be”s. This used to be the active downtown, but all of the stores and small businesses have closed. In this entire row, there’s only one active enterprise.
[flickr]http://www.flickr.com/photos/khowaga/3652190082/[/flickr]
It was also a little unsettling that the bar had people hanging around outside at 3 in the afternoon. The gas station around the corner was straight out of Bubbaville. Two men in denim overalls sat out front in plastic lawnchairs, watching the traffic go by, such as it was. Traffic doesn’t go through town since the main road was put in … thirty or forty years ago.
[flickr]http://www.flickr.com/photos/khowaga/3651394663/[/flickr]
There was also the place where the train station used to be. There’s a rusting grain silo next to it that, I hope, hasn’t held actual grain for years.
Finally, after another few “used to be” comments, I had to ask, “Is the town shrinking?”
“Well, no, it’s the same size it used to be,” she said. “It’s just that a lot of people are moving out here who still work in Austin. No one’s paying attention to the town anymore. They’re not invested in it.”
So, it’s us city folk.
I have to admit, I felt kind of sad for the place. Everyone was certainly very nice, and it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone else. But it’s the sort of place that needs gentrification — but, at the same time, I don’t imagine there’s much chance of that … at least not through the usual means. Not with a Baptist church that size (and the slogan on the marquee out front left little doubt as to where they fall in the broader spectrum).
It was something to contemplate. I drive through little towns on a relatively frequent basis and always wonder about what life is like there. It was interesting getting a glimpse for once.




