I live in a city. It has grown tremendously in the almost 60 years that I have lived here. We have a world class symphony in an exquisitely beautiful symphony hall. We have a ballet troup and an opera. We have many theater companies. We have festivals of every kind, celebrating multiple nationalities. We have craft and art fairs that exhibit beautiful wares. We have art galleries...many art galleries. We have art museums, one of which has a portion of Georgia O'Keefe's collection. We have public parks enjoyed daily by our citizens. We have a lovely botanical garden. We have churches...oh, do we have churches....of every kind. We have universities with world reknown scholars. We have hospitals staffed with brilliant doctors who care for patients and who do important research in every field of medicine. We have NFL football and NHL hockey teams. We have a AAA major league baseball team. We have National Historic Landmarks, eleven, I think. We have a lot of people who live here. We have traffic!!! We have crime. We have gangs. We have extremely wealthy people. We have very poor people. We have the top-selling urban newspaper in North America. We have Nordstrom's. We are known worldwide for our brand of music and musicians and guitars. We are known nationwide for the way we responded in 2010 when a flood devastated many parts of us. We are a city. We are Nashville.
I live in a small town. It has a place called the Purple Cow. It is owned and run by Dan and Debra. I pay more for my gas there because I want to give my business to Dan. Dan knows my children. He asks me about them. He knows Mr. Lincoln, often inquiring about what crazy exercise routine in which he is engaging. The Purple Cow is my source for The Nashville Arts Magazine. I buy my Sunday newspaper there. Dan keeps Sugar Daddies in his store for me. He is the perfect stop after a walk through Radnor for the daily Diet Coke and granola bar. He asks me, "how are your babies in Minnesota?" He remembers Jenny and Julie. He knows that I love and miss them. Once when Jenny was with MP at the Purple Cow, MP called Dan by name. Jenny said, "he has a name? I didn't know he had a name." Debra is beautiful. She loves animals. She is soft-spoken and kind and prayerful. I do not know anything about Dan's "religion," but I do know his ethics. I know that he is kind and considerate and honest and interested in others. Just last week I heard him tell an elderly man in the store to "give my girl a kiss." I am fairly certain he was talking about the gentleman's ailing wife. The Purple Cow, Dan and Debra are an important part of my small town in this city.
I do not buy a lot of jewelry, but when I do, I go to Draper's Jewelry. When my son was designing and buying an engagement ring for his wife, he went to Draper's. Craig, one of the owners, worked closely with him to be certain he got exactly what he wanted. I went to college with Mary Pat. Her family has owned Draper's...well, forever, I guess. When I walk into the door (remember, I do not go there often) she calls me by name. She asks how Mr. Lincoln is doing. The baseball field for the university across the street from the store is named Draper's Diamond. They donated money for it. Draper's has been giving discounts for students at that school...well, forever, I guess. It is a small store with old-fashioned fixtures and uneven floors. It is family-owned and family-run. I know that family's religious background. It is very similar to my own. But, more importantly, I know their ethics and their honesty and their commitment to service; service of all kinds. Draper's and Mary Pat are an important part of my small town in this city.
I have shopped at the same Kroger for years. I see the same people when I shop. It is comforting to have conversations with the cashiers as they check my groceries. Always, the gentleman who stocks the refrigerators speaks and asks how I'm doing and tells me he is glad to see me. Sometimes we chat about the upcoming holidays or how the store is changing. I should know his name. I should know more about him. I don't, but he is part of my small town.
James and Vickie, the Contributor vendors at McDonald's are part of my small town. The man who runs Chile Burrito is part of my small town. The McDuffees. People I see daily or weekly or only occasionally who go about their business, learning their customer's names and stories...people who care about their work, and who do it honestly and diligently and joyfully are part of my small town in this city.
I am so grateful for all the wonderful opportunites that my city offers, but I am even more grateful for those who show me small town life in this city. It is truly the best of both worlds.
So, for today, I wish you big city excitement with small town comfort, and I wish you
blessings
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