Things I Loved About Growing Up in a Small Southern Town
I’ll admit it — I’m biased. I had the blessing of growing up in the late 70s, 80s, and early 90s. Born in 1974, I got to experience some of the best years, and especially in a small town.
When my husband and I talk with our kids about our childhoods, our stories couldn’t be more different. He grew up in a Chicago suburb. I grew up in rural West Tennessee. KINDA different 😳.
Looking back now at 51, these are the things I love most…
High School
High school isn’t always fun in the moment — it’s awkward and messy — but looking back, it was awesome. We literally had the most fun!
Friday night football was everything: cheerleaders on the sidelines, the band (which I was in), the football team bursting through the giant paper sign as they ran onto the field. After the game, there were dances — and you know what? We actually danced. All of us. All night. Most dances even had themes.
Afterward, we’d cruise around town, stop at Sonic, or gather in the Wal-Mart parking lot to hang out. Almost every day after school, I’d drive to Sonic for a cherry Dr. Pepper — still my favorite soft drink of all time.
There was so much school spirit, so much pride in our one high school (the only one in the county — still is). It was simple, but it was ours.
Family
In a small town, family is never far away.
When I was little, we lived in a house my Great Uncle Vaughn L built. Beside us lived my great-grandmother and another great-uncle and his wife Right next door was my grandmother’s house. Across the street and up the road a bit — another great-aunt & her family.
My aunt and uncle were just a few miles up the road, and several other great-aunts and their families lived close too.
Almost every day, I was at one of their houses. They’d take me in for the day — I’d watch soap operas (I still can’t believe my grandmother let me watch them!), play outside, or make playhouses. Carefree, simple fun.
If I wanted to visit my grandmother, I’d tell my parents, walk out the back door, cross the woods, and end up at her house. Just like Little Red Riding Hood.
Friends
In a small town, you pretty much know everyone. And if you don’t, someone knows your parents.
I’m 51 now, and I still have a friend I’ve known since birth, Janna. She was born in January, I was born in September, and our cribs were side by side in the church nursery. We’ve been friends ever since.
So many of my friendships have lasted decades. A childhood friend showed up as the hospice coordinator when my dad was sick — I hadn’t seen her since high school. When Dad passed, friends from grade school texted, came to the funeral, hugged my neck, and filled my soul (Roger, Melanie & Amanda). Two of the young girls below came to the funeral home (Janna & Holly) – this was like my 6th birthday 🎂
My other dearest friend from middle and high school in the picture came to the funeral home also… when her daughter asked her why she was going, Melissa replied “It’s Becky”🩷 They are lifelong friends — the kind where you can go years without talking, then pick up like not a single day has passed. Friends who would do anything for you. That’s the gift of growing up in a small town.
Other Favorites
When we lived in town, we rarely locked our doors. We’d leave the house or go to bed without even thinking about it.
I loved Decorations at church. If you’ve never experienced a “Decoration” at a southern church, you’ve missed out!
Saturday morning cartoons. Enough said.
When we walked home from school, we would walk to Stewart’s Drug Store on the square and get a milkshake that literally had ice cream and milk. I can still taste it!
I fished. I hunted deer. We had a big garden full of fruit trees and vegetables. We didn’t have a lot of money, so most of our food came from what we grew or what we caught.
And the music — the best.
The girls had big hair (Aqua Net all the way), and I loved every bit of it.
Boys were boys and girls were girls.
Vacation Bible School was another highlight — old school VBS. The kind that filled your summers with fun, snacks, crafts & faith.
Our parents let us do things. They didn’t hover or overprotect. If we got hurt, we learned to be more careful next time. We grew up taking responsibility for our own choices.
And if we wanted to capture a moment, we had to take a picture and then wait to get it developed. Honestly, I’m thankful the things I did only live in memories and not on social media.
We had Christmas pageants — the old-school church kind. I remember being an angel one year, with wings, gown and a halo my mom made just for me.
Every summer we went camping at Land Between the Lakes. Now, today, the thought of sleeping in a tent with a sleeping bag and taking showers in the girls’ community bathroom doesn’t appeal to me at all. But looking back, those trips were some of the best family memories.
We roamed the campground freely, searched fields for arrowheads, played in creeks, and swam in the rivers. Most times we went with another family or brought friends along, which made the adventures even better.
Looking back, growing up in a small southern town gave me more than just memories — it gave me roots. It gave me family close by, friends who still feel like home, and a way of life that was simple but rich.
We didn’t need much to be happy. We had each other, we had freedom, and we had community. And honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything 🩷