A few weeks back, my granddaughter was competing in a gymnastic meet across the state, so as dutiful grandparents, my wife and I left early on a Saturday morning to support her and her parents at the competition.  Since her portion of the meet didn’t actually begin until well after lunch time, we (mostly I) decided to forego the well-traveled route of four-lane highways and the interstate system, and take the “back roads” to reach our destination.

I, and my wife sometimes, enjoy taking the less-traveled option when time allows, because I love to ride through the numerous small towns along the way. It’s kind of like a trip down the proverbial memory lane for me, since I grew up in a smaller town many years past.

Of course, in today’s small towns, many of the actual downtown buildings are vacant or in disrepair. Those businesses able to survive the progress of the 20^th century have re-located into more modern-looking habitats on the outskirts of the city limits, complete with plenty of parking space and the attraction of fast-food restaurants nearby.

Many store buildings still bear the faded and weathered markings and signage of long-defunct furniture and hardware stores, Mom and Pop groceries, and corner cafes that only exist now in the memories of the town’s elderly population.

It is not so hard to envision the daily activities that surrounded those cafes, barber, and beauty shops, as many served as a meeting place for the citizens to discuss the politics of the era and the latest small town gossip. Sure, most all of them met with other townsfolk at church on Sunday, but these small-town meccas provided a cross-denominational gathering, where Baptists, Methodists, and Presbyterians alike could confer.

And each town had its own story.  Some were primarily a farming community, with locals frequenting the hardware and feed stores to purchase their supplies, or the local grocery or farmer’s market later in the year to barter their wares and the crops they had raised.

Some towns had a particular industry at which many of the townspeople labored, quite often the textile industry in the south, that provided work for women as well as men, especially after WWII, when many women entered the labor force.

Some small-town inhabitants may remember the stores staying open past their normal closing times of around 5PM on Friday nights, to take advantage of the workers cashing their bi-weekly paychecks, and making their grocery runs for supplies to feed their families for the next two weeks until payday rolled around again.

Despite the extended Friday hours, the Saturday mornings were abuzz as those who didn’t make it to town on Friday would pack up the family and spend Saturday morning getting haircuts, buying school shoes, and re-supplying the pantries.

I particularly enjoy seeing the old movie houses, with picturesque marquees, surrounded by now-unlit bulbs that announced the latest Hollywood movie now being shown.  Many theaters were only open on weekends, as not many ventured out on a school or work night to take in a movie.  In my mind’s eye, I can see dozens of children gathered in front of the box office window on a Saturday afternoon to take in the latest western or Hardy Boys mystery, as their parents completed their shopping.

Soon, we reached our destination and stopped into one of those fast-food restaurants to grab some lunch before attending the gymnastics meet.  As we were waiting for our food, I couldn’t help but notice how the twenty or so patrons, including my wife and I, were all staring at our phones, and not a single person in the place as much as acknowledged anyone other than those in their own party.

How different it would have been, back in the hey-day of small town America, when someone walked into the corner café, as the song says, “Where everybody knows your name.”  I pondered if that was at least in part one of the causes of so much discord in the US today, the fact that we don’t talk to one another or even acknowledge the other exists.

My detour on the way to my destination added only a few miles and a few minutes to my journey, but the refreshment it gave to my soul and my heart was well worth the trouble.  I would recommend you take a similar detour along your life’s journey, and instead of being filled with road-rage, let it go and fill your heart with the appreciation for how fortunate we all are, no matter our current situation.

Many map applications feature the shortest route and the quickest route, but every now and then, you may just want to take the best route.