It is a well-known fact of small-town life: You know your neighbors and they know you (or they soon will). And they know your business.
This is not for everyone.
I remember a few years ago I was working as a cashier at the local grocery store. A young man I didn’t recognize kept showing up, and after the third or fourth day I asked him if he was new in town, where he was from, and what had brought him to Forsyth. After the third question, I noticed that he was becoming very uncomfortable, so I welcomed him to town and wished him a good evening. After that, he avoided my lane for a long time… I started making up stories in my head about him being in the Witness Protection Program or on the lam; Heaven only knows what he thought.
To me, it was just normal friendly banter, to him it was very awkward and intrusive. He is still around and has presumably realized by now that I am no crazier than the next small-town person, and I have heard him chat with customers in a very friendly and familiar way. I still don’t know what brought him to Forsyth, and that’s OK.My inquisitiveness only goes so far as someone is willing to share, and I think that’s true of most Montanans. Maybe his is on the lam, and if someone came to me looking for him, I would probably offer to give him a message rather than tell them where he works.
Nosy neighbors are inconvenient, but they help to keep us honest.
I think anyone who was ever a kid in a very small town at some time harbored an abiding wish to ‘get out of here’. When I was about 13, a convenience store owner called the cops on me for attempted shoplifting. I had tried to lift a bottle of wine and thought better of it (I chickened out), but he called the cops and I got my first ride in the back of a police cruiser. Since I hadn’t actually taken anything, no charges were pressed and they didn’t call my parents. I just got a scare and long lecture.
A couple of weeks later, some helpful neighbor told my mom about my ride of shame, but Mom didn’t believe it because a) she still thought I was a pretty good kid, and b) I was safely at home with her on the night in question. The neighbor had gotten the date wrong.
As a young teen, I could see only that our neighbor was being nosy and gossipy and trying to ‘get me into trouble’. It wasn’t until much later that I began to see this interference for what it was: the original social safety net. If I had gotten into a little more trouble then, I might never have had another ride in a cop car.
There is a reason that small town America doesn’t have huge gang problem. Our neighbors would tell on us and we’d get grounded.
