Life Lessons from Small Towns

These are lessons I have learned from growing up in small town Dufur, OR. I don’t expect them to suddenly give you an epiphany and lead you in the right direction. But some people, including me, take growing up in a small community for granted. The truth is, you will experience some things you never could have if you had lived anywhere else.

1. If you have the opportunity to lie in the middle of the road without one car passing by, do it.
2. Appreciate every business. You don’t know how long it will be there.
3. Live where the stars in the night sky take your breath away. There are some places where all you see are city lights.
4. Even though you know everything about everyone, it doesn’t mean you should gossip.
5. When a teacher actually pushes you to do good, try harder. Once you get to college teachers might not even notice you’re in the classroom.
6. Even though being involved in sports is great, don’t rely on them to get you through life. Don’t forget, talent scouts don’t come to 1A schools.
7. Most parents will let kids explore on their own when the community is small and safe. Don’t take this for granted. Most children in the city don’t get this privilege.
8. Once you leave home, don’t expect to be up-to-date on the current trends. Depending on where you live, you are lucky to have a clothing store within an hour’s drive in the first place.
9. You might say you’ll never come back again…you are wrong.
10. Although stories of people marrying their high school sweetheart are romantic and do exist, don’t be broken hearted if it doesn’t last. Give yourself a chance to explore the world and meet someone new.
11. Indulge in one-of-a-kind country activities; rafting down the river, craw-dad fishing, pitching a tent in the backyard, listening to the coyotes at night, shooting pellet guns at pop cans.
12. I’ll never forget driving past endless fields of golden wheat swaying in the wind.
13. People don’t really go cow-tipping. (At least I don’t think so…)
14. Those who wear the shiny, rhinestone, cowboy boots are only wearing those for show. You’ll know a real cowboy when he/she is wearing scuffed up work boots all covered in mud.
15. If you do make a vow to live in your hometown for the rest of your life, at least get out and see the world a little. You’ll learn a thing or two. You may even be thankful to return to your sleepy little neighborhood.
16. No matter what you think, there is always a town out there smaller than yours.
17. I don’t know about anywhere else, but I have not seen a thunderstorm like those I saw in my hometown. (aside from the desert)
18. You may not hang on to every friend you knew while growing up, but try to keep those closest to you. They will always be there for you, reminding you that you will never go through anything alone.
19. To all the boys that went to my high school, you don’t all have to buy the same truck. If you already have a truck, don’t destroy the muffler and paint it to look like everyone else. Please don’t make me listen to the sound of your truck on the opposite side of town. The place is not that big…
20. Take lot’s of pictures and always remember all the good times.

The Place I Called Home

I suppose I should start with the town where I was raised; Dufur, Oregon. Some might question the ability to ease the aching pain of boredom in a town with approximately 600 people. However, I don't think my education, or my life, would have been quite the same had I lived anywhere else. You learn so much from small towns that prepare you for a life quite different from the city.


Dufur is your typical small, country town; everybody knows everybody…and everything. And people are definitely not afraid to talk. I always found the quiet streets comforting. We'd run over to the neighbor's house to shares photos of recent trips or to give fresh vegetables from the garden. Wheat fields turned golden in the fall, making for one beautiful drive to the next town over. We had a few small crimes here and there; nothing to lock our doors over. The annual Threshing Bee in August always brought visitors to crowd the sidewalks and streets.

Whatever it is that draws people in, the town boasted a major increase in population since the days of my youth. Many businesses have come and gone, but the ones that remain are redecorating to keep up with the times. Even the school is beginning to show signs of a modern society. No longer are bricks the choice of building supplies. They have since been replaced with basic wood paneling. Little by little the school is adjusting it's walls to accompany the increase of students. Most of those big windows in the front are now covered over with trophy cases. The cafeteria has been completely redone and I don’t even recognize it as the place where everyone sat amongst each other on red tables, eating lunch from a metal tray.

My favorite place to hang out was always the pizza parlor. I remember playing the arcade games when I was too little to even know what the point of it was. There was always someone to help me understand, especially my big brother. That pizza place went out of business long before I entered Junior High. For a while the tables remained in their places, the salt and pepper growing old in the sunlight. Now it stays empty, waiting for the prospects of a new business. I hope someone drives through town, sees it's charming potential, and gives it the attention it deserves.

Classes were still quite small. I graduated with 18 other students. Those numbers are steadily increasing to 30 or 40 per graduating class. (Believe me, that's rather large for Dufur.) It's strange roaming through the halls now, when no one recognizes me. I stop at my Senior locker and imagine it filled with all my textbooks and pictures taped to the door. The gym brings back memories of volleyball games and drama practice. I peer into each classroom, admiring the students filling their heads with all sorts of information. Graduating photos from each class line the walls. I find my photo and try to imagine if I have changed much. Although I don’t like to admit, I walked away with more education from those teachers than I thought. If you look out the window you can see the tallest hill around, adorned with a capital "D" that shows our town spirit. Memories flood my mind of dreaded track practices up to the top, roaming up to the top with flashlights to look at the stars, and promises of someday camping at the top. (That is until we saw a massive cave close by) I remember spending late afternoons at the top with my first love. He passed away several years ago. I made one last trip to the top in his memory, then they closed it for good to the public.

People still continue to move to the town, perhaps for the cute neighborhood feel or the stunning views of Mt. Hood. I suppose after my mom moves I won’t have a reason to return there anymore. It’s strange walking down the street when everybody thinks you are the stranger. I prefer to remember it as it was. Simple. Quiet. Full of people I used to know.