Growing Up Rural
Growing up rural, means a lot of many things.
And for the people raised up by it, their gratitude it brings.
It meant you got looked after,
By neighbours, teacher, and coach.
Chances are you had extended family there,
And you spent time with them the most.
It meant you couldn’t get away with trouble,
Because chatter would get back to your parents.
It meant trips to the city were far between,
And always the reason was errands.
It meant class sizes were small,
And students not there were missed.
It meant gossip spread like grass-fires,
Especially by those you kissed.
It meant band members weren’t nerds,
But supported by a high student count.
Your school had a dress code,
Where respect for self abound.
It meant no swearing in public,
Town bylaws with curfews.
Sports teams were a way of life,
And filled the local news.
It meant you were probably labelled,
And as unfair as that was…
With fresh air and open spaces,
It forged peace to keep you tough.
It meant shops were closed on Sunday,
But church parking lots were full.
It represented a day of rest,
But you helped when calves needed pull.
It meant softball was a family tradition,
And the town showed up for games.
Gopher holes were in outfields,
And missed catches was their blame.
It meant that graduation day,
Was a community affair;
Baby photos were showcased,
And the commencement lead with prayer.
It meant that crops and cattle,
Were built on generations in profession.
Work ethics and morals were common sense,
And marriage upon a father’s blessin’.
It meant gas stations were the local hot spot,
And slurpee machines a staple.
Everyone knew where the rodeo grounds was,
And ol’ timers told many a fable.
It meant parades with tractors,
Horses, and candy too.
Manure and wrappers filled the streets,
But cleaned up that day by noon.
It meant that new comers were welcomed,
But took years to settle in.
Your address was always by so and so’s place,
And your reputation was your kin.
It meant pick up trucks with flat decks,
And stained up wrangler jeans.
Gravel dirt roads that crossed rail tracks,
And a helping of gram’s baked beans.
It meant slow and simple,
But hard long hours of work.
Swinging bales and fixing fence;
Though hot, you kept your shirt.
It means you are not common,
But special in every way.
For to be raised in rural setting,
It’ll forever hold your fame.
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