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In my hometown there are no stop lights. There are no hospitals. There is no Wal-Mart. There are no police officers except the county sheriff- 20 minutes away.

In my hometown sports are king, everyone knows your name and there are only two paved roads.

And yet, even in its isolation and unsophistication, it is without a doubt one of the finest places to live in the world.

Towering above the rural community are the elevators of old mixed with modern grain bins. A large portion of the residents are connected to the farms that surround the towns. In the fall the grain trucks heaped with corn and soybeans line Main Street waiting to dump their loads. The trucks often set idle with the windows wide open as the driver has walked across the street to the local cafe for a cup of coffee and a piece of homemade pie.

On a Friday night in September the entire town of 200 people, leave their television sets alone and walk or drive down to the football field to watch the local warriors square off against another neighboring team. Spectators gather at the concession booth for a cup of hot chocolate and some fresh popped corn under the glaring lights of the field that can be seen for miles around. Under the stars the cheers of the crowd reach out to the heavens and echo in the night for all to hear. The band plays the school song and everyone knows the words.

When winter comes to this midwest town, snow piles in drifts along the streets. Massive snowplows leave a smooth trail on the roads and men who are eager to test out their new snowblowers harken to their driveways as soon as the storm has cleared. Without asking they stroll to the driveways and sidewalks of elderly neighbors to make sure that they are plowed out. Children trudge through their yards having snowball fights and making snowmen. They gather up their sleds and snowboards and walk to the nearest hill with their friends for the thrill of the ride as teenage boys roar the snowmobiles in the ditches with the throttles open wide.

In the spring time the weather is unpredictable with 80 degree Aprils and snow flakes in May. Rain plummets in sheets washing the debris of winter away as tulips peek through and fragrant lilac bushes burst out in blossom. Trees shake off their winter slumber uncurling into canopies that shade the yards filled with folding lawn chairs, toddlers blowing bubbles and laundry hung out on the line. About twenty students toss their graduation hats into the air vowing to go on to bigger and better things beyond this South Dakota town. The townspeople applaud them and wish for their dreams to come true.

In the summer the fields surrounding the town are filled with tractors, planters, and cultivators. Corn is knee high by the Fourth of July. Farmers gather at the cafe to compare how much rain was in each person's gauge and they debate whether the wheat will make 100 bushels. In the evenings the crack of the bat is heard on the football field that has been transformed into a baseball field. Citizens sit on their decks with citronella candles burning and read the evening paper. The swingsets at the school are filled with the kids too young to play baseball while another group plays tag on the dew-laden grass. An older couple strolls hand in hand down the middle of the street. No need to move aside as their is very little traffic.

Summer soon gives way to fall and the small town cycle renews itself. Its simplicity is a fine art, an envious creation in which the beauty is truly in the eyes of the beholder. Not everyone appreciates small town life, but if just a little more of the world incorporated this peaceful lifestyle in their lives, no doubt mankind would be a little kinder and gentler too.

Learn more about this author, MJ Suttor.
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