The Village

I grew up in a small farm town in lower south east Michigan. In fact I can't even call it a town because that's not what it is. It's a village. What you may ask constitutes a village? This I have wondered most of the time I've lived in the "big city." I never realized it was a "village" until my husband started making fun of the sign, as you traveled into town. Going home is like stepping into a twilight zone episode where everything turns into black and white. Blissfield, has that quaint small town feeling that just seems too good to be true.

The town is made up of 2 stop lights and a river that splits it in half. We were so very fortunate when I was in middle school to get a McDonald's. My dad stops by there everyday to order his favorite, a senior coffee. Since my dad knows every person in town and visits Micky D's everyday, he has become well acquainted with an employee. Her name is Schmitty short for Smith (don't ask me how it's short). My dad will pull up the the drive-thru and yell, "Shimitty give me a senior coffee!" Then he pulls around to be greeted by Schmitty in the flesh. Once he asked her for a 5 gallon bucket for some un-godly reason, and there it was at the window when he pulled around. He sees Schmitty out often with her boyfriend, who is apparently described by my father, as 1/16 the size of Schmitty. There was a wild kiss at the fair, which he caught a eyeful of and swore Schmitty's boyfriend disappeared into her lips. Let's hope that she never decides to spit in his coffee.

We also stopped by my former workplace many times during the week. Frosty Boy was my first real job when I was 14 years old. I'm pretty sure it was illegal for me to work there at that age, but I'm not sure you could call what I did work. I slung ice cream there for about 4 seasons, and had a hell of a time hanging out with my friends. Growing up 15 miles outside of town was never fun when you were young. There was a manager that all the Frosty girls had to work with. Her name is Lavonne, and she seemed like she was 80 years old back then so who knows how old she is now. Lavonne was a smoker, and I imagine still is. She would take breaks out back smoking her Marlboro 100's savoring every minute she didn't have to be with us inside. Lavonne only worked in the mornings, so those were the shifts that you actually had to do work. My favorite thing to do when I worked with Lavonne was make waffle cones. The reason was that when you burned your fingers, Lavonne would say in her smokers voice, "hotsie totsie!" Lavonne really didn't like us because we were little shits. So when I saw her this past week I wasn't surprised that she, I'm pretty sure stripped me from her mind. It only took me saying a few names to dredge back the memories she must have wanted so badly to forget. She said, "yea you's were the ones who used to throw shit all over the ceiling." Oh yea that was us. "You also used to hang out the windows and Lana fell out that one time. Yea I remember you." I guess Lavonne didn't think of me as fondly as I thought of her. It's the memories that count though....right?

It was fun riding around bikes and watching the soy beans blow in the wind while sitting on the back porch. I never thought I would miss home and that environment. I truly do. Thank the Lord I grew up there.