1. People in smaller towns are nicer. I've been to Dallas twice since the beginning of June. Both times, I defaulted to "big-city" mode, where I kept my head down, walked fast, and ignored everyone else. Do that here, someone is bound to recognize you and ask if everything is okay.
2. HIPA laws and all medical-related ailments are handled differently. I needed to change my adult daughter's medication to a different pharmacy. I called the doctor's office, told them who I was, and they just changed the prescription over. During that same phone call, we also chatted about what a shame it was Miss Marci, who worked at a local pharmacy, passed last year. That place just hasn't been the same.
When I hurt my foot, the owner of the yoga studio I go to, suspended my account until I felt ready to return. No doctor's note. I texted her when I was ready to come back--and even then, she said if I found out it was going to be too much strain on me, let her know and she'd suspend my account again until I was ready.
3. There is only one degree of separation from anyone I meet around here and someone from Fouke Arkansas. Deb, the Queen of the Coronas, Leah, Val, my sewing teacher and my hair stylist are all from Fouke. As Leah once told me, there are no branches in the Fouke family tree.
4. Folks talk about snakes around here the way people from Arizona talk about weather. Yep, it's hot. Yep, snakes are everywhere and expected. (Except when I go blueberry picking tonight. I refuse to find a snake.)
5. Homesteading is a thing. Recently, I got an e-mail from the City of Mesa (Arizona), suggesting I take up gardening because it is "sustainable" and "Earth-friendly." Want to know why people garden here? They want to eat.
Not only do folks garden, but they can and store their food for later. Currently, I have four jars of homemade pickles and two jars of pickled radishes I made recently sitting in my cupboard. Right now I'm in talks with Cindy for peach preserves in exchange for blueberry jam.
6. There is a wide-spread knowledge and interest in plants. Marty and I were discussing this recently, with him saying perhaps this was true in Arizona and I just didn't surround myself with "those" people. I disagree. I could not stop by any stranger's house in Mesa and strike up a conversation about how they propagated their tomatoes or if they are finding their gladiolas to be attracting the right pollinators. Here, however! Expect to get into a chat with the lawn guy about the best way to take care of the squash bugs that are eating the zucchini bushes or converse with some random stranger when you are at the gas station about if elephant ears are truly native Texan plants.
7. People talk. And everyone knows everyone (even if they weren't originally from Fouke). I sat next to a few Coronas at the Church of Christ one Sunday and this woman I SWEAR I'D NEVER MET walked half-way across the church to ask me if my foot was better and how Marty's dislocation was healing.
At yoga the other day, I overheard someone mentioned their friend Krissy and how she was dealing with her cancer treatment. We had three friends in common (one from--yep--Fouke). Also at yoga, my instructor goes to my (Catholic) church. She asked me if I'd heard if Father B. had returned from his trip. I had heard, as a matter of fact. He is back.
8, The locals think Texarkana has crime. Maybe it does. I'll take Texarkana "crime" (generally on the Arkansas side, mind you) over anything that happens in the Valley. And if someone is brazen enough to commit even a petty misdemeanor, the police, community and the affected victim will post all over social media until the person is behind bars. Once the alleged criminal's face is on social media, that person will be identified. Expect everyone from the Sunday school teacher to the alleged criminal's significant other to give their two cents on where the person is hiding.
9. It isn't snakes which are everywhere. God is too. I dislocated MY shoulder yesterday (still planning on blueberry picking, thank you). I texted with a massage therapist I know last night to see if she had any openings today. Nope. But she said she'd pray for me. She also sent me a text this morning, letting me know she's praying again. It helped.
Public prayers happen before lunch at restaurants, before yoga sessions, at staff meetings at one's employment, and at Master Gardener meetings. Crosses are found hanging at doctor's offices and in retail outlets (even when they aren't for sale). Polly works at a local department store. Christian rock station plays throughout. Don't want to go to her store because you don't like the music? You probably are shopping in Dallas then because this is the norm. God is discussed before the symphony plays, during theatrical performances and by the local police on social media--asking for prayers for those involved in a car accident.
For those who don't want any part of God, they just politely hang out until that moment is over. For all a prayer is truly is just a moment of gratitude. People seem to get that.
10. Along the lines of that previous paragraph, this is very much a "you to you" kind of place and nobody caters to feelings and triggers, no matter if the topic is God or anything else. Everyone is expected to be tough enough to carry their own emotional baggage.
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