The Simple(r) Life
I love small towns, and anyone that knows me can probably attest to the fact that if I live in one for the rest of my life, I will be content. There is something about them that just draws me to them. Laura and I attended a couple of events this weekend that reminded me of why that is so.
On Friday night, we made the short trip to Robert Lee to watch the Steers take on the Highland Hornets. While this may seem like a normal Friday night activity in most towns, even larger cities, you start to notice the little things that make small towns so great. Start with the chicken spaghetti supper that takes place before the game, where it seems that most of the town comes out to support whatever class or organization may be selling plates that evening. Then, as you move over to the football field, you see all sorts of people coming to the games. The whole town comes out to support the team, whether or not they have someone playing on the field. Young and old alike arrive wearing the orange and black, just as they have for years. And, add to all of this, probably the most breathtaking sunsets that you can imagine, with the lights of the football field acting as the foreground, and you can (hopefully) already see why small towns are so great.
But the best was to take place at halftime. For most small schools, bands are just an afterthought, if they have one at all. Especially when it comes to six man schools. As afterthoughts, many times the bands are left neglected, with directors that just don’t care, or worse yet, adolescents that have no discipline, respect, or any training when it comes to music. I will admit that the past couple of years, as I have gone to a few Robert Lee games, the band has been lacking, to put it nicely. But this year is the exception. This year it is different.
New band director. New direction. New band. While to the casual spectator who has never seen the Robert Lee band perform may consider them to be downright awful, to the fans of Robert Lee, they are the pride and joy of the school. I do not believe that there was a soul left sitting as the band marched out onto the field to perform “The Eye of the Tiger”. And if there was one person left sitting, they rose quickly to their feet as the band started in on “I Saw the Light”. Hands were clapping. Smiles covered the faces of everyone there. Moms were snapping photographs. As I glanced over the standing fans, I don’t believe that I have ever seen a happier or prouder town showing their appreciation to the band as they marched across the field. My words do not do it justice.
Secondly, Laura and I were invited to attend a polka. Thats right. We went to the quarterly meeting of the polka club out at Wall, Texas. We had been invited before by Laura’s Aunt Ginnie and Uncle Chico, but were unable to attend until Saturday night, when we were invited by Trey and Heather Holik.
For those of you that might scoff at the idea of going to a polka, don’t knock it until you try it. It doesn’t matter if you can’t dance a lick or if you have been dancing for years, no one is going to make fun of you. In fact, more pride is had in having an empty table because all of the patrons are dancing than having embarrassed beginners scared to take the floor. Polka isn’t just for old people. Nor are waltzes.
Sweaty hands. Shuffling feet. Trey and his dad yipping. Typical polka band in the corner. (Think John Candy in Home Alone) Not your ordinary Saturday night.
It is a sad fact that small towns are dying out. The urbanization of America is drawing people out of small towns to the promises of greener pastures in the cities, leaving behind remnants of yesteryears. But the remnant is there. It still draws me. I want my children to know what its like off the beaten path. I want them to know what it means for the school band to still be able to play gospel music. I want them to be able to interact with people three times their age. I want them to know that there is a simpler life.