Not to get all John Cougar Mellencamp-y, but once again, I learned this morning the value of living in a small town. A couple of weeks ago I blogged about the community-wide surprise party the folks in my home community of Starhill, La., threw for my brother-in-law Mike. Mike, a Baton Rouge firefighter and National Guard officer, is about to ship out to Baghdad for at least a year, leaving his wife and three girls behind. Hundreds of people came to his farewell cochon de lait, and they even had T-shirts made saying, "Mike Leming, the Pride of Starhill." The most moving thing about the event, according to the accounts I received, was that one by one, Mike's firefighter buddies and members of his National Guard unit (who have already done a tour in Iraq without him) came over to my sister and our retired parents and pledged to step in to look after them and the place while Mike was away.
Well, Mike's away at training now, and that's already started. My mom told me this morning that they've had a steady stream of men coming around in the past couple of weeks to learn how to drive the tractor to mow the fields, and to do other routine things that Mike did to take care of the place. They really did mean it: those firefighters and soldiers in Mike's little platoon on the homefront are not going to let their buddy down while he's overseas at war. And they're already proving it, right now, this very day. Always faithful.

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Wonderful.
Stuff like that happens in big city neighborhoods, too.
Read your post on 'small towns' via a link in the Corner. I'm from a not so small town, Philadelphia. I traveled there this weekend from where I work in DC. I was there to attend the funeral of 1stLt Travis Manion USMC. I knew Travis when he was a midshipman and I was stationed at the US Naval Academy. He was killed by a sniper in Iraq last month.
He was from Doylestown, PA, outside of Philly. Part of the suburbs really, but Philadelphia suburbs have been around for hundreds of years, so the streets have that small town feel. When we left the church we lined up-had to be about 150 cars. Around us were countless state troopers. The lead trooper Harley had a full size Marine Corps colors on a staff attached to the bike. There were police and firemen everywhere. When we drove towards Philly to his final resting place, people lined the streets, the storefronts and sidewalks. All had an American or USMC flag, hats removed, and hands over their hearts as we passed. Every police and fire station we passed had their people outside in uniform to salute. We drove through 5 or 6 [I lost count] hook and ladder arches above the streets, with a flag draped from the apex. As we headed into the city via the PA turnpike, I watched in awe as the police had stopped all traffic in the direction we were going. If you are not familiar with the turnpike, its akin to closing off the DC beltway in one direction. I looked down the turnpike in the direction of NJ and saw thousands of cars stopped in order for the procession to head down the turnpike for 20 miles or so. All of the onramps were blocked off as well. I was amazed as we traveled alone on this stretch, with state troopers by our side. This was not East Podunk, Wherever .this was Philly, almost as big as they get. As we got off we got more of the same, police and fireman turned out, and one final arch to drive though as we entered the cemetery.
So what s my point? I don t begrudge small town America their values. But in my eyes, they aren t theirs, they are American values. They exist everywhere, even in the big city, though they might not be as obvious. Places where everyone doesn t necessarily know everyone else, yet there is still something there to unite them. Even if they didn t know the man they were honoring.
Semper Fidelis Lt Manion.
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