By Carl Sampson
It may not exactly come as a surprise to you, but I don’t like city living. Oh, I drift up to Portland occasionally for a concert, wedding or other event, but inevitably find myself glad to be home.
I’ve lived in big cities — I went to high school in Philadelphia — so I think I know a little about “city life.” Believe me, it’s not all some folks make it out to be.
I also have lived in Alaska on an island with a population of 2,000. When you can’t get away from your neighbors even by driving, you make a special effort to be nice to them.
We also lived on a farm for seven years in Minnesota, so I may know a little about country life from that angle, too.
Even now we live in a small town — good old Stayton — which isn’t exactly New York City, but there’s a definite comfort level to it.
I had occasion to spend some time in Eastern Oregon this summer and got to thinking about country living.
Yep, country living is for me. I’m not a horse person and I don’t farm or ranch, but I enjoy the scale of country living, where the trees and pastures outnumber the people.
It occurred to me recently that country life has a whole different quality than living in the city. Recently, our son was invited to a birthday party. The guest of honor had received a shotgun for his 13th birthday and they planned to do some trap shooting in their back pasture.
Just try doing that in the Pearl District in Portland.
In fact, you know you live in the country if you’re sitting in a restaurant and the jingling noise you hear comes from spurs instead of the cash register.
You know you live in the country if everyone you know has a deep, brown suntan, but they got it the old-fashioned way — working outside. No tanning beds needed.
You know you live in the country if every pickup you see has a rifle rack — with rifles in it. Or at least a fishing pole.
You know you live in the country if many of the folks you know are related to one another, making it ever so important to watch what you say about anyone.
You know you live in the country if horses aren’t a hobby so much as a mode of transportation.
You know you live in the country if 90 percent of the dogs you see are cow dogs.
You know you live in the country if there aren’t any stoplights in town — or the whole rest of the county.
You know you live in the country if there aren’t any franchise restaurants.
And, most important, you know you live in the country if you make your own fun instead of watching it on TV.
