A grain elevator, pharmacy, funeral home, bank. post office, and an elementary school–summarized the rest of my home town.
All of it surrounded by farms, farm fields full of maturing crops in summer
The countryside reminded homesick immigrants of former homelands.
In my father’s lifetime, some of the older generation spoke with foreign accents.
It was another dying, Midwestern small town. Not that I cared or noticed, growing up.
My mother was an elementary teacher, in the next town to the south. Father, like my grandfather, was a farmer.
The majority, upon graduation from high school, found employment elsewhere. Some carried on the tradition of tilling the rich farmland.
I couldn’t wait to get away from tiny, Chesterfield–population 300, and shrinking. Everybody, with their busybody selves, in everybody’s business all the time. Now, I appreciate the simplicity of small town life–and it’s gone forever.