All of you who grew up in small-town Saskatchewan raise your right hands. I said right hand, please listen.
Now don't you agree that we benefited greatly from this natural advantage compared with those who had to grow up in Toronto, Edmonton, Vancouver ... or even Weyburn?
For those who missed the indoctrination of small-town life, let me provide some light having come from a community of, oh, let's say it was around 1,700 when I graced the gravel roads of my hometown.
First advantage ... you got to know everyone including all teachers and the cop and you were on a first-name basis with the guy who picked up the trash every Wednesday and the guy who fixed the roads. If you needed a road repair, you phoned him or caught his attention at the post office. There was no city hall. He usually got around to it the next day, if he didn't have to plow the hospital road.
You got to play on any school team you cared to join and most of the non-school teams. You might lose interest, but you never got cut.
As a kid, you grew up knowing exactly what the parameters were for community participation. One disapproving nod from anyone in apparent authority and the wheels of neighbourhood justice swung into action. Nobody wearing a uniform needed to be involved at this level.
You knew about everything that was happening, or going to happen and you would be included and if you weren't, you knew exactly why.
Every kid knew the cast of town characters ... the town drunk, the court jester, the guy who "wasn't quite right, but don't worry, he's OK," the local bootlegger and the mysterious woman.
Before they were of legal age, kids in small-town Saskatchewan learned how to drive on country grid roads. Nothing better than a little loose gravel at 30 mph to give you a good sense of "the feel of the road," and "pulling over to safely pass."
Kids in small towns usually tasted their first blast of booze before the allowable age too. Often it was the homemade variety. Now some will say that is no advantage, but I do. Nothing can make you swear off faster than a bad batch of Jansen home brew mixed with a little Donald Duck apple juice. Nectar of the gods it ain't. But hey, with grape juice, it tasted a lot better! Oh well, some take the right path, others go down the yellow brick road to nonsense. What can I say?
Everyone knew what the other guy was driving. We knew exactly who drove what car or what truck, and we knew they wouldn't be using their turn signals "because everyone knows I'm just going home and everyone knows where I live." No need to signal, you know my route.
In small-town Saskatchewan, local doctors made house calls and pharmacists included a comic book or some other smile-inducing token along with the prescribed drug remedies.
And ya, the druggies in the town popped Aspirins into Pepsis to get their high. Who cares if it was only an urban myth? If you believed it ... it was true.
Fast-food restaurant meant the cook walked a little quicker back in the kitchen if you were in a hurry and couldn't stay and visit and needed him to wrap it up in a brown bag so you could take it home and warm it up in the oven a little later. What microwave?
Oh ya, and then there was the drive-in theatres and these other field subcultures that city kids just didn't get exposed to. Their loss, our gain. I guess that's why non-city kids turned out to be so brilliant! Right?
OK, please don't answer that question ... we're also humble ... unique and humble.
