I Grew Up In a Small Town

Bretrick

Well-known Member
Growing up in a small town I found it abhorrent.
Please note. This was my experience. I am not suggesting that this was/is the norm.
The adults pretended to be righteous, trying to impose their idea of moralistic living on children.
Most of the adults lauding it over children, as if they are their parents with total dominance, "Do as you are told"
Parents dragging their children with them along to church, keeping up appearances whilst behind closed doors thrashing their children should a swear word be heard.
Tough love they called it.
Brutality I call it.
Neighbours were ghastly, gossiping about everyone, wanting to know who has fallen by the wayside so as to tut tut and gloat.
Any sign of weakness was taken as a right to beat up on you by bullies who thought it was manly to publicly beat those unwilling to fight back.
Urged on by a crowd baying for blood, some of the beatings could be very nasty indeed.
If you have ever watched a true street fight then you will know what I am talking about. In go the boots, even though the victim is already semi comatose on the ground.
Adults had a lot to answer for in my small country town.
My small town was awash with alcohol. A huge percentage of the males drank and they encouraged their sons to "Be a Man, have a beer"
I was introduced to beer at age twelve and it took me until age 40 to kick the habit. Nothing else to do in a small country town of less than 1500 people and 13 pubs, especially when it rains 300 days of the year.
So depressing, and yet there are those who have lived there all their lives.
Most really small country towns seem to be deserted. The only thing open before 7 am is the news agency.
The only thing open after 5 pm is the pizza place and the pubs.
I think instead of retiring to a small country town I will drive around and around Australia or live in the Cosmopolitan city of Melbourne.
Retire to a small country town?
Not on your nelly!
 

Growing up in a small town I found it abhorrent.
Please note. This was my experience. I am not suggesting that this was/is the norm.
The adults pretended to be righteous, trying to impose their idea of moralistic living on children.
Most of the adults lauding it over children, as if they are their parents with total dominance, "Do as you are told"
Parents dragging their children with them along to church, keeping up appearances whilst behind closed doors thrashing their children should a swear word be heard.
Tough love they called it.
Brutality I call it.
Neighbours were ghastly, gossiping about everyone, wanting to know who has fallen by the wayside so as to tut tut and gloat.
Any sign of weakness was taken as a right to beat up on you by bullies who thought it was manly to publicly beat those unwilling to fight back.
Urged on by a crowd baying for blood, some of the beatings could be very nasty indeed.
If you have ever watched a true street fight then you will know what I am talking about. In go the boots, even though the victim is already semi comatose on the ground.
Adults had a lot to answer for in my small country town.
My small town was awash with alcohol. A huge percentage of the males drank and they encouraged their sons to "Be a Man, have a beer"
I was introduced to beer at age twelve and it took me until age 40 to kick the habit. Nothing else to do in a small country town of less than 1500 people and 13 pubs, especially when it rains 300 days of the year.
So depressing, and yet there are those who have lived there all their lives.
Most really small country towns seem to be deserted. The only thing open before 7 am is the news agency.
The only thing open after 5 pm is the pizza place and the pubs.
I think instead of retiring to a small country town I will drive around and around Australia or live in the Cosmopolitan city of Melbourne.
Retire to a small country town?
Not on your nelly!
Sorry Bretrick to read about how tough you had it. I grew up in the country and I had a very nice experience. We hunted, trapped and roamed the fields shooting this and shooting that. We would fill our pockets with peas and carrots from mother's garden and we would walk the entire section of land which amounted to 4 miles in the evening. We built forts in the winter and had snowball fights. We made sling shots and would shot the glasses on the telephone polls. We bought BB guns and had BB gun fights. I would stand in the house with an open door and my brother would hide behind the well. We had horses, cows, chickens, ducks, etc. I had a good childhood. So good that I never went through this silly menopause that I have seen old guys go through with motorcycles and red convertibles. I would never trade my country days to being cooped up in front of a video game that parents force their kids to watch these days. It was a different time and I'm very happy to have experienced it.

Out in the country we were free. We learned to drive a vehicle by ourselves driving all over the fields. We learned to swim by jumping naked into big pool from where the cows drank. On Saturday night we'd listen to the "Saturday Night Polka Party" from a local radion station. During the week we had a couple of 15 minute radio shows I really enjoyed. One featured the music of Hank Williams and the other the records of The original Carter Family. In August we'd go blueberry picking. We attended wedding where everyone danced to a live 5 piece band. No taped "Music Man" for us. We attended a one room school; playing baseball in the spring, soccer in the winter and something called "tippy". It wasn't a perfect life but I wouldn't trade my childhood for whatever life kids have today in the city.
 

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Where I grew up felt like a small town but was actually farmland on the outskirts of a very large city. Ours was a dairy farm. I barely knew the city existed. We only went there to shop once in a while, or to go to the theater at Christmas time. We'd go see the Sacramento Ballet perform The Nutcracker Suite. When I was 15, we moved to a Sacramento suburb, and I worked in the city. But I didn't stay there for long.

I loved the "country life."
 
Where I grew up felt like a small town but was actually farmland on the outskirts of a very large city. Ours was a dairy farm. I barely knew the city existed. We only went there to shop once in a while, or to go to the theater at Christmas time. We'd go see the Sacramento Ballet perform The Nutcracker Suite. When I was 15, we moved to a Sacramento suburb, and I worked in the city. But I didn't stay there for long.

I loved the "country life."

Same experience for me, only my country life was in NE Ohio... wonderful memories.
 
I grew up in small suburban area in West Virginia. My parents didn't drink at all and neither did any of their friends. The adults would get together on Saturday nights to play canasta and eat snacks while their kids, my brothers, and I would play in another part of the house.

The population was about 3000. There was one bar in the small area that contained the grocery store, pharmacy, and hardware store. It never seemed to have much business.

We didn't have any trouble with the adults other than our parents telling us what to do, unless we were traipsing through their lawn, or trying to pet their whole pack of hound dogs at once (me.)

We had a grade school in our little "town," but we went to the neighboring, slightly bigger town for high school. As baby boomers we had the biggest class ever of about 200, bringing the whole school to about 500. I never saw anyone be bullied and I only saw one fight which consisted of two punches.

Life wasn't perfect. We had the usual teenage angst over people we liked who didn't like us. Annual bouts of tonsillitis and occasional broken bones. I lived in the nicest house of anyone I knew, but had fewer clothes than any of the other kids, wearing the outfit I liked on Monday, Wednesday and Friday and the one I didn't like on the other two days. Yet, I didn't shed any tears over it and was fairly popular in spite of that.

Over all I had a very happy childhood, I really don't know how I got so lucky. I had an Irish Setter and got to run loose with it over our five acres. Life was good.

Oh, and yes, my mother was a spanker. We all got whippings on a regular basis, me, the only girl and evidently most annoying, got the most. It never seemed to bother us beyond the moment.
 
@Bretrick
I could relate to some of your experiences, to a degree. Home life wasn't particularly good. Father was always angry. I'd rather not go into detail, other than to say that I couldn't wait to grow up so I could leave home, as my older siblings did.

Melbourne is a lovely multicultural city. I wish I'd been able to live there for a few years. Wherever you choose to settle, I hope you find peace and happiness.
 
@Bretrick
I could relate to some of your experiences, to a degree. Home life wasn't particularly good. Father was always angry. I'd rather not go into detail, other than to say that I couldn't wait to grow up so I could leave home, as my older siblings did.

Melbourne is a lovely multicultural city. I wish I'd been able to live there for a few years. Wherever you choose to settle, I hope you find peace and happiness.
Thank You.
I think I am leaning toward retiring to the countryside.
A house on acreage within two hours of Perth.
 
Whippings? @Della. Sure sounds different than spankings.
True, they were different. Spankings were applied with a hand and whippings usually were applied with a switch (thin piece of tree,) or a belt. Belts were bad news and usually reserved for special occasions. My mother's favorite instrument of discipline was the yardstick. You never see them much anymore. I was just wishing I had one today to make sure my centerpiece was exactly, well, centered.
 
When my kids attended high school in our small town, a few other kids were shocked. My kids had not been involved in or even around physical violence before. My one son is 5'6" tall. He was twice attacked by bullies because he wasn't from this town, he had long hair, and he was short and scrawny. He won, and quickly, too. There was no long, drawn out fight. He is little, but mighty. Years of karate lessons helped -- all 4 of them had them. He was not bullied again, but the bullies both got bloody noses.

Another son was sexually harassed on the bus. He reported it to the principal. That kid did not ride the bus again. He was repeatedly harassed because of our last name, in a loud and uncouth manner. He took witnesses with him, so he would be believed. He was not harassed again.

The worst part of living here is that illegal drug use, especially heroin, is rampant. One of my sons took me around at night to point out where I should never go. He wanted me to see what drug dealers and buyers look like, so I could avoid them. It's pretty scary to think of so many people, young and old, who are addicted to drugs. Scary for them.

The other really bad thing is how authoritarian people are. It's engrained in the population. Not many outsiders move here. I raised my kids to think for themselves. We lived in places where this was overwhelmingly the way kids were raised. I spent a lot of time defending their rights to be treated as people, and explaining that the perceived problem was a difference between how they were raised and how kids are raised here (in detail). IMO, most adults were rude to teens, young children, and young adults. One of my sons was nearly expelled for mentioning Cthulhu, a fictional character by H. P. Lovecraft. He was turned into the principal, by his English teacher, for trying to talk kids into changing to this new religion. He wasn't; he was telling another kid about the character. I could not believe the English teacher in a lit class had never heard of Cthulhu or Lovecraft, nor could I fathom how he thought the conversation was about religion.

My kids never went to parties because the parties were basically drinking and drugging.

I had a hard time getting used to the fact that I'd meet their friends, and be presented with a false persona. I didn't recognize that until my kids told me. It took awhile, but I got most of them to relax and to be themselves around me. I adore teenagers when they are not puppets. They are interesting to talk with.

My small town is very walkable, and people are always walking down the street. I take great pleasure in seeing that the town is not dead. The Christmas decorations are very pretty. People here are very helpful and friendly, for the most part. Actually, I've not met an unfriendly person yet. There are a lot of good aspects to living here. I have lived here, in town, for 10 months. Before that, I lived in the country, 12 miles away.

The country has a lot to recommend it, for a nature-loving Citiot. The people are amazing. They know everything I don't know, and are not shy to help me gain knowledge. They are also not shy to tease me about my Great Ideas (like keeping chickens in the basement so they will be warm in the winter, and many more). It is all good-natured. The first time I put furniture on the roadside, labeled "FREE", people came to the door to ask me if it would be okay for them to take it. I changed the sign to "FREE...PLEASE TAKE IT IF YOU WANT IT".

It was hard, but interesting, to get used to the demographics here. Spotting a person who was of another race was like seeing a Piliated Woodpecker -- thrilling. For the first time, I got to meet people from all walks of life (except for my former clients). I talked to everyone, and surprisingly, many told me their stories. I became a lot more leftist once I was educated IRL about these matters. The only big problem I had was when people would ask what I did for a living. In the country, my husband and I were the only ones who had advanced degrees. So I'd spout my other ways of making a living through the years (waitress, store clerk, secretary, self-employed, etc). I wanted to make it clear that I am not a snob and I do not think I am better than anyone else. Because I am not. I am really grateful to meet all kinds of people. I hated living in a place full of Stepford Wives. I didn't fit in, but I did find a few friends who were not Stepfordy.
 
Whippings? @Della. Sure sounds different than spankings.
In the South, a long time ago, my ex-husband told me the standard was for kids to go outside and choose their own switches. And they better be "good switches". This had nothing to do with socio-economic levels. My ex was from a wealthy family and he got switched "when it was necessary". Thank goodness he did not do that with his kids. Belts were also used, but not by my ex's parents.
 
True, they were different. Spankings were applied with a hand and whippings usually were applied with a switch (thin piece of tree,) or a belt. Belts were bad news and usually reserved for special occasions. My mother's favorite instrument of discipline was the yardstick. You never see them much anymore. I was just wishing I had one today to make sure my centerpiece was exactly, well, centered.
My siblings and I were lucky. My parents never hit us. Except I did seem to get slapped too much when I became a teenager. Never disagree with an authoritarian mother.

To this day, I have not done more than a quick, light tap on the bum, and that only a few times when my children needed a tiny bit of encouragement. They laughed and speeded up. I have a real horror of ever slapping anyone in the face. While that isn't nearly the worst that happens to kids, to me, it is an awful thing to do.
 
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That could happen anywhere, not just in small towns. I grew up in a small town and never moved very far from it and I think my parents, and the parents of kids I knew, were okay.
These past dozen years are the first time I've lived in or near a small town. This one is very insular and very small. I wonder if those factors have anything to do with it. One of my friends has lived here for 36+ years, and has always been a newcomer. Also, there are huge extended families whose ancestors have lived here for many generations.
 
When my kids attended high school in our small town, a few other kids were shocked. My kids had not been involved in or even around physical violence before. My one son is 5'6" tall. He was twice attacked by bullies because he wasn't from this town, he had long hair, and he was short and scrawny. He won, and quickly, too. There was no long, drawn out fight. He is little, but mighty. Years of karate lessons helped -- all 4 of them had them. He was not bullied again, but the bullies both got bloody noses.

Another son was sexually harassed on the bus. He reported it to the principal. That kid did not ride the bus again. He was repeatedly harassed because of our last name, in a loud and uncouth manner. He took witnesses with him, so he would be believed. He was not harassed again.

The worst part of living here is that illegal drug use, especially heroin, is rampant. One of my sons took me around at night to point out where I should never go. He wanted me to see what drug dealers and buyers look like, so I could avoid them. It's pretty scary to think of so many people, young and old, who are addicted to drugs. Scary for them.

The other really bad thing is how authoritarian people are. It's engrained in the population. Not many outsiders move here. I raised my kids to think for themselves. We lived in places where this was overwhelmingly the way kids were raised. I spent a lot of time defending their rights to be treated as people, and explaining that the perceived problem was a difference between how they were raised and how kids are raised here (in detail). IMO, most adults were rude to teens, young children, and young adults. One of my sons was nearly expelled for mentioning Cthulhu, a fictional character by H. P. Lovecraft. He was turned into the principal, by his English teacher, for trying to talk kids into changing to this new religion. He wasn't; he was telling another kid about the character. I could not believe the English teacher in a lit class had never heard of Cthulhu or Lovecraft, nor could I fathom how he thought the conversation was about religion.

My kids never went to parties because the parties were basically drinking and drugging.

I had a hard time getting used to the fact that I'd meet their friends, and be presented with a false persona. I didn't recognize that until my kids told me. It took awhile, but I got most of them to relax and to be themselves around me. I adore teenagers when they are not puppets. They are interesting to talk with.

My small town is very walkable, and people are always walking down the street. I take great pleasure in seeing that the town is not dead. The Christmas decorations are very pretty. People here are very helpful and friendly, for the most part. Actually, I've not met an unfriendly person yet. There are a lot of good aspects to living here. I have lived here, in town, for 10 months. Before that, I lived in the country, 12 miles away.

The country has a lot to recommend it, for a nature-loving Citiot. The people are amazing. They know everything I don't know, and are not shy to help me gain knowledge. They are also not shy to tease me about my Great Ideas (like keeping chickens in the basement so they will be warm in the winter, and many more). It is all good-natured. The first time I put furniture on the roadside, labeled "FREE", people came to the door to ask me if it would be okay for them to take it. I changed the sign to "FREE...PLEASE TAKE IT IF YOU WANT IT".

It was hard, but interesting, to get used to the demographics here. Spotting a person who was of another race was like seeing a Piliated Woodpecker -- thrilling. For the first time, I got to meet people from all walks of life (except for my former clients). I talked to everyone, and surprisingly, many told me their stories. I became a lot more leftist once I was educated IRL about these matters. The only big problem I had was when people would ask what I did for a living. In the country, my husband and I were the only ones who had advanced degrees. So I'd spout my other ways of making a living through the years (waitress, store clerk, secretary, self-employed, etc). I wanted to make it clear that I am not a snob and I do not think I am better than anyone else. Because I am not. I am really grateful to meet all kinds of people. I hated living in a place full of Stepford Wives. I didn't fit in, but I did find a few friends who were not Stepfordy.
Seems like for the most part your experiences where positive and I am pleased for you.
Sometimes I visit Tourism Websites and I input my old country town to read the reviews.
Seems like very little has changed with comments like - nice place to visit but do not stay overnight - Interesting place, just don't go out drinking late at night. The locals are not friendly when drunk. - Stay in your room if staying overnight. Locals seem to need to beat up on outsiders. etc.
Sure, there are great country towns, somewhere.
I wrote about my experience which was far from the norm
 
Who knows if it's true or not, but I read somewhere a while back that what makes a small town unfriendly to newcomers or visitors is if the population is less than 2,000 and if it's economically depressed.
The town I grew up in has less than 2000 people and the major employer, the Mine, closed down and there is very little employment.
 
Except I did seem to get slapped too much when I became a teenager.
That's one thing my mother did. All her spankings and whippings were directed at the buttocks and she was careful not to smack any little hands that went back there defensively. She was really very nice, she just thought that was how you get kids to mind. My father's parents were high school teachers with degrees they had earned in the 1800s, but they had spanked both their own kids, and students, too, I imagine.

My parents were also well educated, but both were born in 1915 and I think it was simply what was done at that time period. This is the first I've heard that it was associated with lack of education or low income.

I didn't spank my son, but by then Dr. Spock was around to guide me.
 
I’m reminded of Paul Simon’s song, My Little Town:

In my little town
I grew up believing
God keeps his eye on us all
And he used to lean upon me
As I pledged allegiance to the wall
Lord I recall my little town
Coming home after school
Riding my bike past the gates of the factories
My mom doing the laundry
Hanging out shirts in the dirty breeze
And after it rains there's a rainbow
And all of the colors are black
It's not that the colors aren't there
It's just imagination they lack
Everything's the same back in my little town
In my little town I never meant nothing
I was just my father's son
Saving my money
Dreamin of glory
Twitching like a finger on a trigger of a gun
Nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town
Nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town
Nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town
 
The town I grew up in has less than 2000 people and the major employer, the Mine, closed down and there is very little employment.
My city had a population of about 5,000. It was only about 50 miles from New York City, but I only made it down there twice before I moved away in the late '70s when I was 20. The only jobs available were factory jobs that didn't pay much. Most of the factories around there shut down during the '70s and early '80s when manufacturing was moving overseas for cheap labor. I learned what it meant to be poor during that time before I moved away. Poverty sucks.
 
Retire to a small country town?
Not on your nelly!


I couldn't begin to speak for Ozland but, trust me, small town America is a heck of a lot better than Big City USA. Drugs, crime, street gangs, drive by shootings, Mafiosi, corrupt cops, congestion, rats, mice, roaches, foul smells, pollution, etc ~ all such regrettable $__t that stinks to High Heaven. I often go to South St Paul, MN for sports entertainment and will take Small Town USA any day.
 


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