Small Town Girl, Big City Dreams

First, I grew up in a small town and hated it . Then I moved to a big town and missed that little suburban sprawl outside of New York City. Now I think back to it with fond memories.

In the town where I lived during my childhood years, there were probably only about seven thousand people, that’s an uneducated guess. It was an old town, formed in the late 1800s and the architecture of many homes reflected the time with Cape Cods, Dutch colonials, then later, 1980 bi-levels.

I think fondly of my friend Debbie’s house, a bi-level with shag carpet, a Barbie Dream house, and an above ground pool. Our own Dutch colonial I swear was haunted. Living in an old house gave me the creeps but damn, if I didn’t wish I lived in one now.

Most homes had decks and basements (we don’t have these in Southern CA). The area was lush with trees and plants and wide green lawns. I’m painting this picture for you because now, I find myself missing the very place I longed to escape from. I live among palm trees and Spanish style homes with dry grass and cactus plants. I didn’t know tumbleweeds and road runners existed outside of Bugs Bunny cartoons. They do!

Back then, I’d sit on my bed and dream about living in California, specifically the glamour of Hollywood. I wanted to get far, far away from New Jersey

I thought living in a small town was the absolute worst. You just couldn’t step into the local A&P without 1.) smelling slightly rotten produce 2.) running into someone you knew.

I hated that our class size was so small that I was with the same kids from first grade until we all graduated. Gossip traveled fast. Once you got a label it stuck to you like glue until you walked out the door of the high school and shed it like an old coat.

Funny, I still am super sensitive, introverted, and like to read so yeah, the nerdy label still fits! You know what though, there’s a group of us from school that remain friends on Facebook and cheer each other on and help each other out and as an adult, its a pretty amazing thing.

Our small town didn’t have a movie theater or any cool stores. We had a Friendly’s (shout out to the unfortunately named Happy Ending) and a grocery store and what seemed like twenty churches in a single square mile.

To go shopping on a Sunday meant we had to drive up to New York State, luckily not too far, because stores in town, as lame as they were, closed up on the Lords day. Going for a drive was a legitimate way to pass the time and exactly what I would do once I had my driver’s license. There was nothing else to do. A short trip into New York City was always a favorite trip and I loved Manhattan but still, I dreamed of living FAR FAR AWAY.

When meeting people, no one ever knew where Midland Park was located. I’d have to rattle off the neighboring towns for any signs of recognition.

Where are you from?

Midland Park.

Oh, Menlo Park? Yeah I’ve heard of it.

No, Midland Park. (pause) Ever heard of Ridgewood? Paramus?

Oh, yeah, yeah.

That’s where I live.

In a strange twist of events, I ended up living in California where I enjoy drives to Los Angeles (the horrific traffic you see in photos is no exaggeration), Palm Springs is close, San Diego only one hour away.

I like where I live okay enough, but you know what? It’s no small town in northern New Jersey.

The desert landscape simply cannot compare to the greenery found in the good old Garden State. A stroll down a tree lined street exists only in my memory.

My own neighborhood reminds me of something from a post-apocalyptic movie with relatively barren, ‘drought friendly’ yards. Homes are cookie cutter tract dwellings that look identical and instead of large pieces of land with room to breathe and privacy, homes are up against one another. If you raise your blinds, you can almost see into your neighbor’s house. Ten steps and I am in someone else’s back yard.

I find myself wondering what it would have been like to raise my kids in Midland Park, I wonder if its changed drastically, does it still have that small town feeling that I long for now?

I sure don’t miss snow but there’s something lacking here without the vibrant autumns and the chill in the air that signals fall is around the corner.

On the rare occasion of a wood smoke scent in the air, I am suddenly transported to Midland Park like I’ve time traveled. In a blink, I’m twelve years old, wearing a wind breaker, carrying a Trapper Keeper as I walk down Vreeland Ave. home from school, anxious to watch an Afterschool Special.

With the gift of reflection that only comes with age, I’m grateful that I grew up in small town during the 1980’s. I wish I could find a leafy green, small town here in Southern California with unique homes, kind people, large yards, and ribbons of grass. I want to walk to a store and not have to constantly get in the car to go places.

Everything I hated about living in a small town, I now appreciate. Funny how that works.