Neighbors

In a small town, everyone knows eachother. They know your family through generations - from grandparents to grandkids if you've been around that long, which many have. They know your house, your job, your boat (and who had all of these before you). And it seems in part that your status about town depends not on your job, income, or education, but rather on how many years you've been a part of the community.

Though we've been here nearly a year, we are still early in transition from newcomers to resident "sourdoughs," yet to last our first full winter. We are easily recognized as newcomers - as new faces, by default, must be. This aspect of small-town life startled me at first. When we first stepped off the ferry and wandered into town on that cold, clear, February morning, we were greeted by strangers as if we were long expected. "Welcome to Petersburg! You must be the new Forest Service couple." For months after our June wedding, I'd often hear, "Congratulations on your marriage," from someone I'd never met. Of course, our marriage was announced in the local paper with a captioned photo, so anyone who didn't yet know us by name does by now. It is odd to be recognized and known by everyone, while I slowly accumulate bits and pieces of who is who about town.

Getting around can be quite confusing as a newcomer, as so much daily conversation is based on local reference. Houses are always referred to in terms of occupants, never by address. When asking for directions be prepared for: "Go out the road just past Erickson's..." or "Across from Severson's..." Our own house is still referred to as the Baldwin's, even though they moved away years ago - they were not even the most recent tenants; they were the best known in the community, and it stuck. We hope to earn our own identity as the O'Leary's in the neighborhood someday.

 

Slowly but surely I am getting to know my neighbors. Teaching at the middle and high schools has helped me learn the names of most children, and working at the bookstore has helped me link them to parents and grandparents. I'm beginning to grasp the generational underpinnings that support this town. Once I learn someone's name I see them everywhere- literally, multiple times a day. Yesterday morning, I sold books and gifts to a wonderful family I've come to know through school. Later that afternoon, I strolled down main street with my Christmas bags, and in passing met the same three youngsters travelling the opposite direction. "Hello, Mrs. O'Leary" they voiced in passing. "Hello, Murphs!" I spouted, letting out an uncontrollable giggle. Twenty minutes later we met again in the grocery store. "Small town," we agreed.

The simplicity of life here encourages resourcefulness in earning a living. Many people work multiple part-time jobs around town and and creatively discover untapped markets. Your morning coffee barista may answer your call for a taxi later that afternoon, then pour your beer at day's end. A character who goes by "Doc," and handsomely pulls off a handlebar moustache, may issue your license plate at the DMV, answer your call to the police station, and sell his freshly homemade salsa at the grocery store. We are all intertwined daily and well appreciative of eachother.

I dearly love how customers come into the bookstore and greet eachother by name as they shop. They chat as if they're resuming a conversation from earlier that day. And they probably are.