I thought of you today when I was bringing in the mail. When there was nothing remotely personal to be found in my mailbox, not one thing sent by someone who was actually trying to make a human connection with me, that’s when you crossed my mind. I don’t know much about you, but I believe I can say this: the fact that you’ve paused to read this column shows that, like me, you flip through your mail hoping for something other than bills and solicitations. When our little publication arrives, you pull it out of the stack because it has a neighborly feel, maybe even a personal feel. This is our hope, anyway — that you’ll be glad to see our friendly “face” in the mailbox.
When I was a very little girl, I watched a show called Romper Room. If you did, too, you might remember Miss Nancy looking through her Magic Mirror and calling out the names of children that she “saw.” “I see Timmy and Susie…” she’d say, “And I see Patty and Michael and Joey…” She never got around to saying she saw me, so I remember asking my mom if Miss Nancy could really see me. “No,” said my mother, “but she wishes she could.” (Good answer, Mom!)
That’s how I feel when I write to you. I wish I could see you! For Mark and me, Our Town is more than just a way to make a living. We really do hope to create connections. That’s why I write this monthly column sharing a bit of our personal side. It’s why we love to include support groups and special events and volunteer needs in Community Notes. It’s why we offer ads affordable enough for even the smallest local business. (Did you know that fully half of the 1.9 million businesses in Florida have no employees other than the owner? At Our Town, we love sole proprietors!)
When we talk about the economy with folks who advertise in Our Town, we notice people using the language of hurricane season, phrases like “hunkering down” and “riding out the storm.” And a lot of us are doing what we do during hurricanes—we’re staying close to home. Now, I don’t want to sound like a Pollyanna when times are so lean for many of us. But maybe, just maybe, there is a silver lining to this hunkering down close to home? Maybe we are more likely to support local businesses rather than far-away corporations, to help the local economy. Perhaps when we have less work coming in, and less money to spend, we have more time to make connections…to tutor a new reader at the elementary school, help a refugee practice English, visit a nursing home, or just talk to our neighbors. Maybe we’ll come out of this slowdown with a stronger, more connected community.
Let me know if you have a good way for people to connect, and we’ll publish it in our Community Notes. And as I say goodbye, I’m looking into my Magic Computer, and I see Colleen and Brenda and Eric and George and Judy and Isabel…and all the rest of you, too. Okay, I can’t, but I sure wish I could! As always, thanks so much for reading Our Town.