Small towns offer much big cities can't.

Byline: GUEST VIEWPOINT By Judy Volta For The Register-Guard

Much of society values bigness, whether in numbers, enrollment, dollars or size. Bigness reigns.

I would like to give tribute to smallness; specifically, small towns. It is an irony not lost on my siblings: I grew up on a Montana farm 13 miles from nowhere and openly pined to live in New York City, but now find myself ensconced in a town of 1,000 and happy as a clam to be here.

There are many who sneer at small town life. Full of rubes and characters. Life in a fish bowl. Everyone knowing everyone else's business. Rumors and gossip as the regular diet at the little market. All at least partially true, by the way.

However, there is a side of small town life that is irresistible.

Walking into that corner market which also serves as the town post office and greeting half a dozen townspeople that you know by first name.

Attending a school sing, complete with gap-toothed third-graders, overalled farmers and well-heeled soccer moms, all sitting side by side and loving it.

Getting stuck behind a wide-berthed farm seeder at sunset, and knowing there is a long procession of cars behind you, chomping at the bit to get somewhere.

Going to the funeral of a community leader, finding it cram-packed with folks you haven't seen in years but it seems like yesterday.

Driving down the tree-lined streets and hearing that still voice saying, "This is your home. You belong here."

Small towns definitely have their quirks. For example, many people who have lived here their entire lives don't identify addresses by the streets. We identify someone's address as "kitty corner from the old Smith place," or "next door to the Broughtons." The unspoken rule is that newcomers' homes cannot be identified by their own names. I lived in the Healy house for 10 years, and now that I have moved to my new place, I find that I am living in the old Cannady house. Maybe when I am dead and gone, my house will finally be identified as my own. But that is OK. I find it strangely comforting to live in the houses of people who decades ago slept and lived in Coburg.

It's true that there are downsides of small town life. We have a small tax base, yet often must provide the same essential services to our citizens that cities with 100 times our population provide. Our school enrollment is constantly under a microscope, even when the best science indicates small classes are more conducive for learning. And many of our own residents assume that life must be better somewhere bigger. We seem to always live on the edge of being eclipsed, being swallowed by the bigness that is all around us.

One of my concerns about our small town is the morphing of our community from a stand-alone city into a bedroom community. When Coburg was established in 1847, and especially during its golden years from 1890 to 1915, we had timber mills, a glass and woolen factory, butchers, hardware stores, many churches and a thriving central business district. That time is now frozen in the sepia tones of old photos.

Today we are known for our motor coach manufacturing on the edge of town (a major regional employer), our many lovely antique stores, our canopy of beautiful trees and our beautiful homes.

We work hard to keep a viable town center, but it is a concerted effort. And it has been pointed out to me with a wink and a leer at countless meetings that we had a reputation for a few years for aggressive policing on the freeway. Like the over-popular prom queen, we are hoping that reputation is behind us now.

I feel sad for many of our bedroom community residents, who leave us early and come home to us late, able to savor small town life only on weekends. They may not even know what they are missing. And small towns historically have more difficulty in recruiting city council and committee members, even more so when commuting makes time even more at a premium. I feel very fortunate to have a full slate of committed council members, many of whom have small children or come to meetings after long hours at their "real jobs," or both. Together we tackle such Herculean tasks as budget, wastewater projects and planning for Coburg in 2025.

Many of our seniors have lived here their entire lives, remembering the celebrated past, and very afraid of inevitable change. Our youth chomp at the bit (much like my youthful pining for New York City), wanting to go out there and try bigness. I am willing to give them our blessing, knowing they often return when they have children - if not here then to some similar community.

So we continue in our small town ways as best as we can, for as long as we can, raising our children in the relative safety of our quiet streets and our deliberate naivete. And we are grateful.

Judy Volta is mayor of Coburg.