As I travel outside the US, I am often asked about the country of my birth. More often assumptions are made about the US and conversations proceed from false premise.
I wish I could take all of those who are curious about America to Mt Summit, Indiana.
I was driving through there a couple of weeks ago on my way to Springfield, OH. I had an envelope on the seat next to me to send to my dad in Englewood, FL. I could have driven out of my way in Anderson, IN to find a post office, though they do tend to move things around during my long absences overseas. I decided instead to just post it from the first P.O. I came across that was easy to get to.
If you go East across Indiana on St Hwy 36 you'll pass through
Mechanicsburg, IN and then my niece & nephew's high school and then in to Sulphur Springs. You'd think there'd be an Earthcache there at an artesian well, with a name like Sulphur Springs, but they only have four traditional geocaches, NONE of which I've sought out yet. I digress.
Back to the corner of Church Street and St Hwy 36 and the Mt Summit Post Office. Across the street is the the Summit Mart. the only other businesses I saw were a Pizza King and a Gas Station. The Pizza King had an ATM machine.
I pulled up o the side of the highway and parked, wondering if that was okay. Then I crossed the highway on foot as a lady with a baby was just entering the building ahead of me. The building seemed to serve as the town hall, P.O., community centre, etc.
As I entered the P.O. area another lady was giving and receiving some local news with the lady behind the counter. The quote my dad used to use popped in to my head.
I bought stamps for letters within the US and some for postcards and letters via Airmail to the South Pacific. That of course caused questions and conversations as to who I knew there.
After I finished my business at the counter, I asked if there was a public restroom I could use there. The lady fished her keys out and escorted me down a hall and asked me to lock up when I came out. I love small town America. I like small towns most places. They still provide personal service and treat people like people. I don't know that I'd want to live in a small town. I like the arts and events and options of the city, but some of my fondest memories are of Hagerstown, IN where my mom grew up and I visited often in my childhood.
About the time I was crossing State Hwy 36 to get back to my car, a train came through. Some people probably checked their watch to see if it was on time.
I wish I could take all of those who are curious about America to Mt Summit, Indiana.
I was driving through there a couple of weeks ago on my way to Springfield, OH. I had an envelope on the seat next to me to send to my dad in Englewood, FL. I could have driven out of my way in Anderson, IN to find a post office, though they do tend to move things around during my long absences overseas. I decided instead to just post it from the first P.O. I came across that was easy to get to.
If you go East across Indiana on St Hwy 36 you'll pass through
Mechanicsburg, IN and then my niece & nephew's high school and then in to Sulphur Springs. You'd think there'd be an Earthcache there at an artesian well, with a name like Sulphur Springs, but they only have four traditional geocaches, NONE of which I've sought out yet. I digress.Back to the corner of Church Street and St Hwy 36 and the Mt Summit Post Office. Across the street is the the Summit Mart. the only other businesses I saw were a Pizza King and a Gas Station. The Pizza King had an ATM machine.
I pulled up o the side of the highway and parked, wondering if that was okay. Then I crossed the highway on foot as a lady with a baby was just entering the building ahead of me. The building seemed to serve as the town hall, P.O., community centre, etc.
As I entered the P.O. area another lady was giving and receiving some local news with the lady behind the counter. The quote my dad used to use popped in to my head.
Two old guys were out gossiping over the back fence.When my turn came I was given a stiff envelope to slip mine into for extra protection. As I stepped aside to address it, a young farmer stepped up to do his business. He was asked to take off his hat so they could check his I.D.. The thought crossed my mind that the lady probably knew his mother or grandmother, but still wanted to follow procedure.
One guy said to the other as his story wound down, "Tell me more!"
The other guy said, "I already told you more than I heard!"
I bought stamps for letters within the US and some for postcards and letters via Airmail to the South Pacific. That of course caused questions and conversations as to who I knew there.
After I finished my business at the counter, I asked if there was a public restroom I could use there. The lady fished her keys out and escorted me down a hall and asked me to lock up when I came out. I love small town America. I like small towns most places. They still provide personal service and treat people like people. I don't know that I'd want to live in a small town. I like the arts and events and options of the city, but some of my fondest memories are of Hagerstown, IN where my mom grew up and I visited often in my childhood.
About the time I was crossing State Hwy 36 to get back to my car, a train came through. Some people probably checked their watch to see if it was on time.
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