I grew up in the farming community of Wendell, a small town in west-central Minnesota with a population of around 250. Today it’s home to less than 150. I love small town life, at least most of it. It’s a completely different world than the one lived in large cities, especially back in the 1970s, the era I grew up in.

 

In many ways I had a typical childhood. In other ways, though, it was quite different than what kids experience today. It was a much simpler time, especially in rural communities like Wendell. There was one small grocery store, and the owners of the gas station pumped your gas and washed your windows. Both closed by six and weren’t open on Sundays, so if you needed something you were out of luck until the next day.

 

There was a tiny café where the farmers gathered in the mornings for toast and coffee, a bank, lumberyard, farm implement dealership, body shop (my dad’s), post office and bar/restaurant called “The Wen-dell.”

 

No all-night convenience stores, discount stores, fast food establishments or even a stop light. Outside of town you’d often get stuck behind large farm equipment slowly making their way out to the fields.

 

Although deprived by today’s standards, growing up in a small town was a wonderful experience. Parents weren’t worried a stranger would come by and snatch their children off the streets, so we had the run of the town from morning to night.

 

During the summer, my sister and I would head out each morning, free, and for the most part, unsupervised. There were plenty of kids in town and we were always together riding bikes, playing in the park and creating games that only made sense to us. In the winter, we’d sled down the huge hills left behind by the snowplow, make snowmen and dig snow forts.

 

At noon every day a whistle would sound and home we’d go for a quick lunch, then off to play for the afternoon. Another whistle would go off at 6 p.m., our signal that it was time to head home for supper.

 

Summer evenings were the best. Most nights the neighborhood kids would gather in our front yard to play kick-the-can. I don’t know how we ever determined a winner, because in our rules you could hide anywhere in the entire town. We would play, breathless and sweaty, until our parents called us in for the night. The next morning we’d start all over again.

 

There were a bunch of old barns on the south side of town that were falling apart and home to a large number of rats. Because we were forbidden to go anywhere near them, we’d sneak down and explore them at any opportunity we could find. Filled with rusty farm equipment and old hay, they offered us unlimited fun. A favorite activity was going up into the lofts, grabbing one of the ropes still hanging from the ceiling and then swinging across the open floor, letting go and landing in hay piles.

 

The fire escape slide hanging precariously to the side of the old empty schoolhouse was another forbidden attraction. The slide was two stories high and curved as it descended; what child could withstand that temptation? Certainly not us, and we had hours of fun on it until the city finally had it removed.

 

There were obviously a few drawbacks to growing up in a small town. Along with the sparse shopping, the biggest was that everyone knew you and who your parents were, so you couldn’t get away with anything. Although it was paradise to a child, it felt more like we were trapped there when we became teenagers and had nothing to do.

 

Those days are long past and there aren’t many children left in Wendell. There are still a few businesses, but many of the older buildings, including the old barns and schoolhouse, have been torn down and bare, weedy lots are all that’s left. 

 

Although it’s still a simpler life, even there the days of children having unlimited freedom are long gone. My parents are still there, and when we visit I love telling my own kids what it was like to grow up in such a small community.

 

I’ve called Clearwater my home for over 25 years now, and I have no desire to ever move back to Wendell. But it hurts my heart just a little to accept that my kids weren’t able to experience the same carefree childhood that I had. Those days are gone forever.