growing up in a small town seems like it would idyllic. john cougar mellencamp certainly made it sound that way with his song. it’s not. it’s a small petty backbiting world that can really drag you under if you’re not careful.
i grew up in cullom, illinois. i was born in the south suburbs of chicago but my parents decided that they wanted to raise their kids in a small town. they thought it would be safer and just better i guess. my mom spent some of her childhood in the south suburbs but some in the town of momence, illinois. momence isn’t as small as cullom but it still had a small town atmosphere so maybe that’s why made mom want to live again in a small town.
when you’re young…cullom seems ideal. the population is between 550 and 650 people…it fluctuates. it’s surrounded by corn or soybean fields. you can run or ride your bike all over town and not worry. your parents aren’t worried either because if you’re hurt or cause trouble, they’ll know before you get home.
that was how it was when i was kid, growing up in the late 70’s and early 80’s. it may have changed by now…
everyone knew my parents and my parents knew most of the people in town at least by site. we moved to cullom in 1979. my parents bought a big old victorian house from the spray family. the whole time we lived in the house, it was known as the spray house. my parents and later just my mom owned the house for 24 years and it was the spray house to the end. now i’ve been told it’s the old horan house. of course it couldn’t be called such while we still lived there.
we were one of two democratic families in town. i guess that set us apart.
as i said, it seemed idyllic. when i was young, all of that intrigue floated over my head. i didn’t realize it was there. i had friends. i could run all over town. there was a tiny river outside of town that i could bike to and swim if i were so inclined. we had a pond, locally known as ‘the pit’, near the school. we could play around it in the surrounding forest for hours or even days in the summer. going back after breakfast and only running home for lunch and dinner.
there was a road next to the school that was the steepest hill in town. it was perfect for riding your bikes down at break neck speed! the school’s playground was of course completely open year round so we could play there as much as we wanted. the school had a fire escape tunnel from the second floor to outside. for some strange reason, the doors at the top leading into the school weren’t always locked. one person could climb up, go inside and open up one of the huge art room windows to let the rest of us in.
my sister and i walked or biked to church almost every sunday. we walked or biked to school every weekday. we complained about the school being at most 5 blocks away from our house. we complained that the church was probably about 8 blocks away.
we had 2 trees in our yard, one in the front and one in back, that were ideal for climbing and climb them i did…often!
there was a business called hahn industries on the south end of town. they made concrete monuments and decorations for your yard or porch. their most popular item was the “guard goose”. half the people in town had a guard goose in the front yard and several ladies in town made outfits for the geese.
i guess i could go on and on and on. all of those things were wonderful about this small town. but just as my beautiful silver ring with the big pink stone…there is the shiny overlay and then there is the tarnished dark bits underneath.
the dark bits…and some are very very dark.
my dad was diagnosed with a brain tumor – large cell lymphoma – in 1986. it was devastating for our family. to make that long story short…the tumor was successfully taken care of and the cancer sent to remission but the disastrous side effect was paralysis. the chemo was toxic and dad ended up paralyzed from t6 down. that’s another story again…
i brought up dad’s cancer because it shows just how dark a small town can be. my dad owned the two taverns in town. he was the bartender, usually at the stockade north while the stockade south was usually reserved for weekend dances and bingo wednesdays. he knew everyone that was a regular. he often drank with them; went to chicago team’s games with them; went fishing on lake michigan with them; barbecued with them and even gave them a helping hand when they needed it. that’s the happy part.
when dad was diagnosed with cancer, people came around, a few visited him at the hospital. when it became apparent that he was paralyzed and that he wouldn’t be working up at the bar anymore…people stopped coming around. i only remember two people visiting dad at the house when he came home from rehab in his wheelchair. the worst part of that was that the two people who visited weren’t really there for my dad…they were there to hit on my mom! one was married and one had been what my dad thought was a close family friend for years. what the fuck??
after my mom soundly rebuffed them both, neither showed up again. she told the man’s wife (mom thought she was a really good friend and she deserved that truth) that he had hit on her and rather than accepting that, she spurned my mom and shunned her.
so…in the end, my parents ended up alone in this very great struggle.
when i was a senior in high school, the janitor at our school, who was kind of thought of as the lovable doofus…touched me and a couple of other girls inappropriately. he grabbed my ass several times and even did the boob brush. that kind of thing was handled differently in the 80’s than it would be now. in an offhand manner one day on my way out of the school to head home at the end of the day, i said, over my shoulder to the principal, tell your stupid janitor to keep his hands to himself.
i didn’t think another thing about it. to make another long story short. i was basically interrogated in the principal’s office by him and the superintendant of schools. the two other girls gave their stories as well. we were told we would have to testify in front of school board. one girl pulled out after being persuaded by her parents. her stepfather would later circulate a petition to rehire this janitor.
my dad was furious but felt totally unable to help. he wanted this man in jail. by this point, things were so bad for me in school that i just wanted it to be over. i was shunned by the main group of cullom natives. they were angry with my for getting this guy fired. this guy who touched me inappropriately. i still had to face his sons at school every day.
my mom used to work at the small family owned grocery store in town. she always had interesting stories to tell. one of the prominent families in town were farmers. they had a lot of land, a nice enough farm house and she drove a cadillac. she would come into the store every week complaining about how poor they were….DRIVING A CADILLAC!! she would complain about having to borrow grocery money from her son. please…can you say hypocrite?
small towns can be wonderful if you’re under 12 or over 65. for those in between, it can be toxic. everything that would be played out in the expected fashion in a large city is thrown on its head in a small town. i guess if you’re a founding family, a popular family in town or rich….you can get thrive.
