Flee the Cities and Experience Authentic Culture

Main and Court St. Woodstock, VA

What do I mean when I use the term "authentic culture?" It's pretty easy to explain. It means friendship, community, and shared life. Many times we experience that kind of community in our churches, although even there, some are so large you know only a fraction of the members who attend. But what about the secular community?

When I lived in Alexandria, I knew my neighbors. We lived on Lisbon Lane for almost thirty years and we had a number of neighborhood picnics and other events that helped us get to know one another. So we can all experience community on a small scale even in highly populated areas.

But after we moved to Woodstock, community and culture took on a much more personal aspect. We got to know more people in the community whom we see on many occasions: at the polls, at the grocery store, at the post office, at the ice cream parlor and restaurants. That rarely happened in Alexandria.

This morning I went to the hospital for bloodwork because my annual physical is next week. I know both of the nurses taking blood and greeted them by name. I didn't know anyone waiting for their lab work, but I saw several of them greeting friends and neighbors who joined the crowd.

Sometimes I run into the realtor who we used when we bought our house, usually at the grocery store. She knows my sister who also bought and sold a home in Woodstock and asks about her. One of my doctors lives nearby as well. He passes our house on his way to work and commented on our beehives and asked if we sold our honey. We don't, but I took him a jar of honey on my last visit. He knows I walk with a friend and urged us to come walk his neighborhood at Leisure Point near the dam. I've definitely added it to the walking route bucket list.

I may have shared this story before, but it epitomizes the Woodstock culture. Shortly after we moved, I went to mail a package at the post office. After I got home I was searching for my glasses when the phone rang. It was the clerk at the post office asking if I'd forgotten my glasses there. Sure enough! I went back and picked them up. No big deal you think? My name wasn't on the package; neither was our phone number. She had to take the trouble to reverse look up our address so she could call. That never would have happened in Alexandria! My big effort there was to get a smile out of the sullen clerk who was occasionally at the window. When I got home with my glasses, I said to Larry, "We've moved to a place where there are real people!" 

Woodstock Sunrise

Woodstock isn't a perfect place. It's not the garden of Eden before the fall. There are businesses with rainbow flags outside. The tattoo parlor in town is one of them. The clerk at the bookstore wore a shirt that read "Trans rights are human rights."  We had a new age store for awhile where I placed St. Benedict medals. It's gone. I once had a conversation at the polls with a pink-haired, pierced lesbian who told me Trump wanted to "kill people like her." I just smiled and said, "What are you talking about?" 

Today is my volunteer afternoon at the library. I think I'll park at the shopping center and walk the half mile to the library sprinkling holy water and praying for everyone who lives here. I can't say that I ever "loved" Alexandria, although I loved my neighborhood. But the city itself was so big and impersonal it was hard to love. Here in Woodstock, as I've been walking, covering every inch step by step, I've grown to love it more and more. May I meet every one of its residents merrily in heaven one day.

May Jesus Christ be praised!

Mary, Mother of us all, pray for us.