I write fiction, and fiction generally gives license to create colorful and interesting characters. I also live in a small town, and small towns are filled with colorful and interesting characters — individuals who capture the attention of others or help us define our collective character. They shape the personality of our locale and provide color to our world. The gentle soul who bags your groceries with a smile and a “Thank you,” the grumpy old coot down the street with a big heart, or the homemaker who serves up the best popcorn balls in the world on Halloween; all serve as the exclamation marks on small town life.
My wife and I recently attended the funeral of a local legend. The service was more of a celebration of her life and her personality than a somber ceremony of loss. She was a woman of guts and fortitude; a person who faced things and people straight up. Others were drawn to her forthrightness or matter-of-fact way of approaching people or situations. Zinging humor colored her conversation.
As I reflected upon her, I see my late mother-in-law in the same manner. She was a woman who spoke what she thought and didn’t spend a lot of time sugarcoating the truth. They both shared the ability to get to the point (sometimes even stabbing you with it) while using colorful expressions, metaphors, or witty allegories. A general sense of humor came easily for her, and she was comfortable speaking with others. She also cared tremendously for those around her.
I know an old farmer. He could be difficult to work with; he was impatient and easily aggravated. He knew what he wanted done, and if he was doing it he was happy, but if he had to tell someone else how to do it he got frustrated. Work just got his blood pressure up and you could see it in his face as it grew redder with each second. In fact, as a young man, it was easy to imagine steam blowing out his ears like a cartoon figure as he prepared to boil over, but when he wasn’t working he was funny as heck. If you met him in the hardware store or at the cafe, he could have you rolling with his stories, and you could see he actually cared when he placed a hand on your shoulder and asked “How are you doing, Young Man?” He was a wealth of information, he was direct, and he was genuine.
My dad was one of those “tell it like it is” type of individuals. Quite honestly, he could be ornery and … well… some might say, difficult sometimes. I hesitate to say this because my mom reads almost everything I write. He was extremely dedicated to the people in his community. He served in the Navy and as an EMT, but that didn’t prevent him from arguing. He always seemed to find a humorous comment to toss out to make a point, especially at a basketball referee.
If he were a dog, Dad would have been one of those dogs of whom folks said, “His bark is worse than his bite.” He could have a loud bark, but he also had a heart of gold hidden beneath the rough exterior, and most of the time he would end up doing something above and beyond to make up for the growl. That’s how I know that he knew he had come across the wrong way. Still, even with the gruff exterior, there was a large number of people who respected Dad and appreciated his directness.
These people, these individuals who have the ability to cut through the garbage and fluff to get at the point, are some of the great leaders in our small towns. They’re often the people we turn to when we need action. Others are enthralled by the apparent courage of such personalities. The lack of restraint or filter, while sometimes shocking, is very often welcome in a world where people work so hard to hide what they really feel. One of the things people like about such personalities is the feeling that they are genuine.
There is a huge difference in people like the ones I’ve described and those who just don’t care; those who say what they think because they don’t care how it affects you. I’ve met plenty of people who tried to be like the people above — matter-of-fact, unfiltered, straightforward, but they fall short because they aren’t genuine, their honesty is a result of rebellion against society, or they simply have a bitter attitude. Maybe they don’t even know that their directness is more hurtful than helpful; they just don’t have it down to an art. Much of it has to do with the perspective from which that straightforwardness is presented or delivered.
The folks I know who pull it off, actually care. They care about the people with whom they are speaking and would never use their clarity of speech to intentionally hurt someone. Their passion is part of the reason they speak plainly. Their care is why they deliver the honest truth. Their vision allows them to see past the distractions. For them, simplicity beats complication. They question the reasons for burying the truth beneath unneeded fluff. For those who are just playing the part, none of that matters. Their brutal honesty which appears to be exactly that, brutal, is not the same as spontaneous truth.
I don’t know about you, but I’d surround myself with those honest, simple speaking, straight-shooting, shake my head in amazement people than the kind that will puff me full of pleasantries any day. I’m not talking about the ones that make you feel worthless after you’ve spoken to them. I’m talking about the kind of individuals you could listen to all day and from whom you truly feel you are gleaning wisdom. I’d rather listen to a little “bark” that is meant as honest warning of potential disaster than get bitten in the end.
When we look at fiction, we find those same personalities become some of our favorite characters. Most of us read fiction because it isn’t reality; it’s an escape, and yet we migrate towards those personalities that we find in life. We like those witty, direct personalities; the ones that take charge and offer straightforward wisdom to others; grumps with a heart or just quirky individuals — Carl Fredrickson (UP), Ninny Threadgoode (Fried Green Tomatoes), Walt Kawlski (Grand Torino), Garth and Hub (Second Hand Lions), Daisy Werthan (Driving Miss Daisy), Mister Miyagi (Karate Kid), Norman and Ethel Thayer (On Golden Pond), Scout Finch (To Kill A Mockingbird), Sophia Petrillos (Golden Girls) , Grandpa Gustafson (Grumpy Old Men), Augustus McCrae and Woodrow F. Call (Lonesome Dove), Charlotte (Charlotte’s Web), and the list could go on. Characters who are just so special they find a place in our hearts, just like the characters we meet in life.
This isn’t where I was headed with this blog article. I intended to talk about the make up of small town, rural communities, or even a neighborhood; about the mix of personalities and individuals. I expected to highlight the pieces of the puzzle that make the whole picture, but I guess the path took me on a different journey. Maybe I took a turn because speech and communication is so important to how a society functions, maybe I got to thinking about how those strong personalities make up the core of our communities, or maybe it’s just….
… because I got distracted.
