Four years ago, when I moved to Pell City from Birmingham, I was baffled and a little disoriented by the slower pace. I left home in what I thought was adequate time to get my stepson to Williams’ Elementary allowing for traffic. We were so early, he was not allowed inside. Knowing no pubescent boy wants to be seen with a mother-type figure, I did not try to engage him in conversation nor admonish him for looking in the other direction with an expression of hostility.

Being brought up right, I always offer a person with fewer items than I the place ahead of me in the grocery store check out line. More often than not, I hear, “It’s okay, I’m not in any hurry. Again, baffled. “Why would anyone decline a place ahead of their own?” I wondered. “Why on this great big mostly blue planet would anyone want to wait more than they had to?” Then I heard it. It was conversation, conversation between friends. Maybe friends they had just made that day.

The person waiting in line was more often than not acquainted with him. They discussed everything from football to the state of affairs in the state of the Union. The cashiers asked more than the obligatory, “How are you?” He or she would notice my bulk purchases of child friendly food and asked how many kids I had (only two, but ours was the house where the neighborhood kids chose to congregate).

An opinion, positive or negative, would follow and I would answer that I preferred it that way. Not only did I know where and what my own children were and what they were doing, but I also learned the personalities of the other children. Who was the bully? Who was the troublemaker? Eavesdropping is an excellent learning tool. We would share a laugh and wish one another a good day. It brightened my spirits to have a friendly chat instead of a few obligatory smiles. I remember thinking, “This is what I like about living in a small town.”

No one is happier with the growth around Pell City than I. The newly built exit and restaurants at Brompton alone has made my life so much easier, if a little more fattening. And don’t get me started on Dunkin’ Donuts and Baskin Robbins right there in front of the thrift store, Goody’s and Burke’s? How can anyone not drive through for a cup of that famous coffee and a yummy after a tiresome shopping trip?

But it seems the pleasantries we enjoyed a few years ago seemed to have gone by the wayside. This is not a criticism. I don’t remember the last time I even thought to offer my place in line to someone else. But I have a feeling if I did, it would be jumped on like a fat furry dog by a starving flea. Nor do I remember the last conversation I had with a cashier. Even the, “How are you?” has become obsolete having been replaced with, “Will that be all?” or “And how will you be paying for that?”

Upon mentioning this, much to my vexation, the response is often, “That’s life in the big city.” I do not accept this. Not only because it is painfully cliché, but because cities — be they big or small — are comprised of people. And it is the people who dictate what life is to be. We can answer the questions as to how we will pay or is that all we are going to purchase with one word. We will get in our cars, on the road, and make it home sooner adding many…seconds? Maybe a minute to our lives?

Or we can ask, “Yes, that will be all. How are you today? Been busy?” I have tried this. And it is met with, aside from the answer, a smile by someone who clearly finds it refreshing to be asked.

We all work hard. It is nice to have someone care or even be interested in what we are doing and how we are while we are doing it. In my experience, it makes us both feel better. The easiest, yet sometimes most important, gift we can give to someone is a smile.