Whatever happened to Mayberry?

Today, the town where I grew up is not the same place that exists in my memory. Like many communities of it's size in Kansas, it's struggling, the population has declined, businesses have closed, and jobs have evaporated. Then, to add insult to injury a major flood ravaged the east side of town, leaving little for the families living there to salvage, so they didn't....they left. Houses were razed, lots were cleared, and now only a few foundations and driveways litter the landscape.

There was a time, however, when this little community was a vibrant hub of activity. A shopping mecca for the region, a home to many manufacturing and service industries, and a really great place to raise a family. My memory, I'm sure has blurred over time, and it's easier to relish the good times than it is to relive the bad. If I'm accused of having "selective memory" then so be it.

What I recall is a time when the kids in my neighborhood would gather for all-day games of baseball, basketball, or football depending on the season. And guess what? We had co-ed teams long before it was fashionable, or before it was some sort of political statement. If your team needed a player, it made no difference the gender....okay maybe a little, but no one was excluded. Were the games competitive? You bet your britches they were! We all wanted to win....winning was/is important, and the losers didn't get a "consolation or participation" prize.

Were we scarred for life if we experienced losing a game? I suppose we were, if you consider a scar to be a badge of courage, or a lesson learned. For tomorrow was another game, with a different winner and a different loser. We learned to have short memories regarding altercations, wins, or losses, for the next day we all had to reconvene for another round. It still mattered to us whether we won or lost, but we experienced both....and survived without the assistance of adult intervention. We experienced life.

It was a time when parents expected the kids to have an occasional squabble, but had the common sense to let them work it out for themselves. It was a time when getting into trouble at school meant additional punishment at home, not an irate parent ranting to the school board about unfair treatment. It was a time when a high school of nearly 1000 students could be administered by a Principal, Assistant Principal, and a couple of Counselors, because students were expected to perform and behave in accordance with the rules. We learned responsibility.

I look back fondly to those times, and I don't feel at all like we were underprivileged for living in a little slice of Mayberry. In fact, I feel just the opposite. It was a privilege to have had the experience, and I'm sad to see the continued erosion of that lifestyle. That's partly the reason for what I do today, working to revitalize those small communities and sustain the rural way of life.

You see, my childhood home was one of those homes on the east side. It's gone, never to be rebuilt, and I'm saddened by the loss. I now know the old saying is right, "you can never go home again", and in my case it's literal.

There are a few people who are still fighting the good fight, and who hope to rebuild their town. I applaud their efforts and suspect it will be an uphill battle, but what do I know.