Where’d you grow up and where do you live now? A large city or a small town?

I grew up in the medium-size town of Salem, Massachusetts with a population in the 1960’s of about thirty thousand people. Although we had one family car, my mother and I walked downtown for shopping, church, etc.—about a twenty minute walk one way. Even then I loved walking. And when I married and had my daughter, I had a basket attached to her carriage so that during our daily walks around town I could pick up a few items at the store. I loved being downtown where I’d bump into former classmates, friends of my parents or grandmother, people who knew who I was. It was a good feeling—a comfortable feeling.

By the mid-seventies, I moved to another medium-size city next to Salem, but different in many ways. Our house was located in what we called a “development.” Homes with fenced-in back yards, lots of children for my own children to play with—and no proper downtown area within walking distance. Which meant we needed the car for almost everything. Not only that, but those small shops of Salem that I remembered and loved had been replaced with shopping malls. Places where the clerks had no idea who I was, where I habitually became frustrated attempting to find a parking spot. Where yes, the shops were larger and more posh, but where the act of shopping became impersonal.

And by the late-eighties, we had moved to Florida, where again we lived in a housing development. But this time, my own children were grown and gone and there were very few young children in the neighborhood. Mostly retired couples or couples, like my husband and me that were busy working. Which means I never really got to know my neighbors. Oh, sure—a wave hello, an inquiry as to how they were, a comment about the weather. But that was it. I think being busy working accounted for part of this, but I also now feel that type of removed behavior is almost an unwritten code in those types of suburban neighborhoods.

When my husband retired five years ago we relocated about two hours north—to a small island town of about nine hundred permanent residents. We had been visiting here for about fourteen years. We did extensive research to make sure we could adapt to all that this island didn’t have and the outcome was that what it did have far outweighed anything else.

No, we do not have any major shopping here; we have no doctor, hospital, pharmacy or movie theater. (All of these are about a 30 mile drive to the closest medium-size city) We do not have one traffic light! Nor do we have a speed limit on the island above 25 mph. We also have no major crime. What we do have is spectacular sunrises and sunsets, an entire area surrounded by Mother Nature, a night sky where one can actually see the stars without light pollution, osprey, ibis, and the sight of water just about everywhere you look. And added to all of this is the utter and complete stillness and quietness as I walk my dogs in the morning.

My mom grew up a country girl on a farm in New Hampshire. My dad grew up as a city boy in Salem, Massachusetts. I grew up with the best of both worlds because although we lived in the city and had all the conveniences, we visited my grandparent’s farm a lot and even then I resonated with nature and the small town atmosphere.

So I suppose it was probably natural that when life presented me a choice, I chose that small town surrounded by nature. I like knowing most of the people that live here. I like that they know who I am. I like waving to others on my morning walks and I like being in my element.

For those of you that have read my first novel, SPINNING FORWARD in the Cedar Key series, I think you can see that I’ve been inspired by my surroundings. Living here has given me a sense of place and people—a warm and comfortable feeling—that I want to share with you, my readers.

Leave me a comment here with your thoughts on city versus small town and you could win an autographed copy of SPINNING FORWARD and a Cedar Key item from our 2010 Arts Festival.