When I first rolled onto the Northern State University campus in my 1958 Chevy Biscayne in September of 1991 I sort of had a plan. I had planned on my mullet and I to play a lot of baseball, attend a little class, and…well that’s about as far as I had planned. My poor mullet, having caught the rueful eye of my college baseball coach, only survived a week of college life before its life was literally and figuratively shortened in a mall hair salon.

Thinking back I should have saved the honor of relieving my mullet of its duties to Martin Halverson, commander and chief of Martins Barbershop on Main Street Lignite. As I look back it seems so crass and careless of me to have abandoned my stalwart friend in a foreign place to be swept up into a pile of stranger’s hair. At least the hairs strewn about the floor of Martin’s Barbershop would have been of those familiar to me and my mullet.

The hairs of those that we had seen day in and day out during the daily goings on in a small town in upstate North Dakota. Martin passed quite a few years ago as have many of those that he clipped, buzzed, and sort of styled. He, like the others, are the cast of characters that I see when I think back to my childhood. Growing up in a small town may not expose you to as many experiences and opportunities as the big city but I think it creates a greater appreciation for others and what they do to make the wheels of your town go round and round.

Whether you want to or not, you most likely know almost everything there is to know about everyone, which makes the encounter with the cashier at the grocery store a much different experience than the one you have at the Buy Everything You Never Needed Super Store.

The cashiers at those stores won’t chit chat about your Grandma’s bunion surgery and don’t really care to hear the response to their mandatory, “How are you today?” It’s not their fault, they don’t know you and you don’t know them, so you shuffle through barely having time to pay before the next customers cart bumps you out of the way.

I guess getting bumped along by the rest of the herd kind of sums up living in a bigger city. Rapid City is about as big of a herd as I ever want to live amongst and our close proximity to the beauty and solitude of the Black Hills and Badlands effectively lowers the mind numbing rattle of the herd to a tolerable level. Once removed from the herd you can sometimes hear yourself think which can be frightening and discerning if yourself is not accustomed to such a phenomena.

Living in a small town not only provides the opportunity to hear yourself think but also provides the opportunity to hear everyone else think as well. A mostly entertaining experience.

As I close this week’s column I beg each of you, my fellow herd members, to assist me in wrapping up my journey to attain a PhD by completing my dissertation research survey so I can put this thing to bed and get on with my life. I promise it will take less than five minutes of your time and will serve to make this world a better place…eventually. All you need to do is go to <www.surveymonkey.com/s/5CKMTXB> right now, complete the survey, brow beat everyone you know to do the same, then sit back and enjoy the satisfaction that comes with helping progress the greater good of society. Thank you.