Wayne's World: The Downsizing of Wayne's World

by Wayne Geiger

I may be dating myself, but in the mideighties, John Cougar Mellencamp sang a song called, “Small Town.” It was a catchy tune, but for me it was melody with meaning. I wasn’t born in a small town, but rather the big city. I was born and raised in Miami, Florida. Home of year-round sunshine, great beaches, big buildings, and the state bird, the mosquito, the Sunshine State was my home until I went away to college in New Orleans in my upper 20s.

The big city was all that I knew. I didn’t know that I didn’t know any different. It’s just the way it was.

In Miami, there were always things to see and places to go, and they were open twenty-four hours a day. Of course, getting to those places quickly was a problem. There was always traffic—even late at night.

Miami was a popular place. I was always amazed to see so many out-oftown license plates clogging up the roads. Snowbirds, we called them. These people owned two homes. “One up north and one down south” they would say. I had never actually seen snow or experienced cold temperatures, so it really didn’t make sense to me. I secretly wanted to get a bumper sticker that read, “when I retire, I’m going to move up north and drive slow.” I have since relented, sympathize with their dilemma, and understand their decision.

Moving to New Orleans in 1990, Kansas City in 2001, and my eventual migration to Grain Valley in 2015 unleashed a seismic culture shock in more ways than one. One of the first things I noticed when I moved to the Midwest was that people were so friendly.

That may sound weird if you’ve never lived anywhere else. But I was used to going out, ignoring others, and being ignored. It’s just the culture of the way it was.

I remember, after moving to the Midwest, being in a local store and having a complete stranger make small talk with me while waiting in line. I was shocked and a little unnerved. I later relayed the story to my wife saying, “this complete stranger talked to me and I didn’t even know them!”

I’ve now made not only the physical move, but also a mental and emotional shift. I’ve put down some roots now. The lure of bright lights and endless concrete has since faded into obscurity.

I’ve become immersed and ingrained in the culture. To be honest, I love living in the “small town” of Grain Valley. I can sing along with Mellencamp with clarity and conviction.

A small town is like a family, and every family has triumphs and trials. We have a chance to get up close and personal. We get to know our leaders and our neighbors. We have our high points like the yearly carnival and parades. I especially love fall Friday night football games in the “Valley of the Grain.” We come together to cheer on the Eagles, see our kids play in the band, and dance their hearts out on the field. We lay aside our petty differences and come together for something greater—a sense of community pride.

Every family has its problems, too. We have our politics, pollution, and potholes. Thanks to social media, we have a closeup, play-by-play description of the latest backbiting, bitterness, and brawls. We have plenty of time to read these posts on our mobile devices while waiting for the train to move.

These disagreements should remind us of something greater—a passion for our community. Unfortunately, at times, when we care about something so passionately, we can also disagree vehemently.

Community is built upon the marriage of history and camaraderie. According to archival records with Jackson County, the name Grain Valley is “descriptive of its location in a fertile grain-growing valley.” Our city came into being because of the railroad.

In the document, “A History of Grain Valley,” by Michael Gillespie, Grain Valley, like neighboring cities, “came into being as land speculators platted townsites at each of the planned station locations along the C&A right-of -way. The C&A had a say in naming most of the new towns along the line, including Grain Valley.” How interesting. The same train that we complain about when it stops on the tracks hindering our forward progress is the same entity that birthed our city and gave us a name. As Morpheus said in The Matrix, “Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony.”

Having lived here for just over three years, I have very little actual history here. However, in this short amount of time, I do have a deep sense of community and camaraderie. This small town is my home.

Where else can you see chickens hanging out at Sonic, goats running down the road on Dean off Sni-a-Bar, and a local alderman, dog in tow, patrolling the neighborhood of the city she loves so passionately? In the big city that’s big news. In our community, it’s just another day in the Valley of the Grain. Having lived elsewhere, I recognize that life is not perfect, but life in the Valley is good.

Wayne Geiger is the Pastor of First Baptist Church Grain Valley, an Adjunct Associate Professor of Speech at Johnson Country Community College, and a freelance writer.