I have always lived in relatively small communities. But I’m living in the smallest one yet now, and it is proving to be a perfect fit.
Upstate New York is an interesting jumble of affluence and poverty, progressives and conservatives. It has grown organically, rather than with a planned, suburban design, so the magazine-worthy gentrified farmhouse may have a mobile home as its nearest neighbor.
The people in a small town are likely a combination of natives, transplants (often older folks who spent summers in the area), second homeowners from downstate, and newly full time urban expats.
It’s not nirvana. But, for the most part, it works. People get along.
I met a young family yesterday that just moved to my town from Brooklyn. They have that hopeful, shell-shocked look that I remember having myself just a couple of years ago. They’ve made a massive leap of faith and they’re hoping it was the right one.
They’re my new neighbors and I took an instant liking to them.
I’ve also made friends with people whose roots in this town go back generations.
My experience has been that if you arrive with an open attitude, if you’re not arrogant, if you listen more than you talk, a small community is a very special, very comfortable place to live.
But it’s all up to you. Upstate communities are a mirror. And they’re small enough that there’s no escaping the view.