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So, I asked Eunice, one of the Streeter's, if she would hold three papers a week for me. She said she would try, but that it would be difficult. I told her it would be okay if she screwed up. They never have in over five years. Now, I only have to travel to pick up my paper once a week if I'm not going by and I get my culture fix.
When I started going to Streeter's, I never paid much attention to the surroundings or to the people working there. I was polite but I wasn't used to the small town pleasantries. When I lived in the Pepperell, I was invisible. I barely knew my neighbors names. I drove to work in Lowell everday, flew on a lot of planes, and never got involved. On weekends, we came here quickly but left. When we moved here, back to Mark's hometown, I was by myself, working in my studio, taking my daughter to school, doctor's appointments, doing the grocery shopping. My opportunities for meeting friends were limited. So the shopowners of the places I frequent have become our friends. This is such a strange thing for me. I've never been a "regular" anyplace - at least since I was a kid with my parents. Even then, the town was so large, it was easy to be anonymous. We were the family with all the little girls - kristinlynnlaurienancyjennifer.
I have completely surprised myself. I love being a "regular." People call me by name (okay - either by Mark's last name - "Mrs. Duprey" (who's that?) or by the most common "Julia's mom"). Once in awhile, someone will call me Kristin. Those must be people who know me really well.
I have become so fascinated with small town culture - specifically the entire culture at Streeter's Store. For Bernardston, this is Walmart. From where I live, I have to travel almost an hour to get to any big box retailer. I save a lot of money not shopping and not buying gas. That's a good thing - I have enough ugly plastic in my house (kid's toys). I don't miss having that opportunity, at all.
Every week, at Streeter's, I pick up my paper here --
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I can buy my sewing supplies --
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I can even show my daughter a picture of the grandfather she never knew (and the father-in-law I never knew) on this great old framed collage of local boys serving in the Second World War. (Norman is the third from the left on the first full row down.) If I mention Norman's name, I'll get a story or two from Whitey or Eunice who went to school with him. Where else would this happen?
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If you are driving on Route 91 north, take the last exit in Massachusetts (Bernardston). Go about 200 yards. You'll find Streeter's on the left. Stop in and say hi. Poke around and find a bargain. Strike up a conversation. You'll feel like you stepped back forty years. It's a great feeling. I'm so lucky to be able to go there whenever I want.
Maybe your town still has a place like this. Consider yourself lucky - most Americans don't. The mall culture is invading all the corners of the country. It's okay to shop at the mall - just open your eyes to what else is around you. Support the little guy!
Gotta run to Streeter's to pick up our Fourth of July flags. We're getting our piglets on the 4th and we need to decorate the "Pig Palace." I hope Streeter's has them.
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