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A Very Casual Survey Leads to Answers from "Toy Stores" to "Unity"
I tread gingerly down an old red-brick sidewalk along north Main Street. Streaks of grass have unearthed themselves between some cracks and fissures in the uneven surfaces. I guess you could say I'm on a mission of sorts, which involves a simple question: What does Fairfield need?
Two large wooden chairs, slightly turned towards one another as if for a chat, sit empty in front of one home. A conversation seems to be taking place there anyway. I walk past them feeling charmed.
A small-town side-street kind of quiet accompanies the solitude of these streets. There's the sound of birds chirping from somewhere over here to somewhere over there. I pass by slowly, 'cause there's no hurry on a street like this.
Things start to move faster as the square approaches. More noise, more cars . . . and penny parking meters. It only costs a penny to stop in this town! Now that's incredibly quaint. That's cause for celebration. But on with the mission at hand. I decide to start with the Courthouse--seems democratic enough. Somehow I find myself in the Board of Supervisors' office.
Group Reflections
"What does Fairfield need?" The two supervisors present both look at each other and ask themselves again, staring at something in the air. "Cooperation," says Mr. John Estle. Mr. Dick Simmons follows it up with "Unity."
At this moment, the local mortician happens to come by. When they ask him what he thinks, he just smiles and says, "Don't we have it all?"
I notice that certain answers seem to create a pause in the air, a space in which vastly different people, who may or may not know each other, can share the same experience of reflection at the same time. Five simple words, "Don't we have it all," may evoke a completely different response, but somehow, this statement ropes us all together. Some hold their breath, others smile.
I walk into the Auditor's office, and walk into another world. I put the question to the two female clerks there. I first ask Bonnie, who vows that this town needs more retail clothing stores. She wears a powder blue ensemble that matches her bright and friendly manner. Evelyn declares that more family restaurants are needed, and adds, "more unity." They too are thinking about the question together, and share their answers as much with me as with themselves.
The ladies at AAA Sidha Travel all laugh and think about the answer together. One says, "something for the kids to do . . . places to go for them and some activities for them to do at night instead of running around town--I mean they're just wild, they need something to do!" Another looks up from her computer screen and shouts, "lower prices!" The infection takes hold of the other travel agent there, and she throws in, "free food and drink," between giggles.
Still giggling to myself as I amble into the police station thinking what a superb town this would be if we could all get free food and drinks, I sober up when the 911 operator simply says, "I can't tell you," in response to my big question. And neither could the police officer there on duty. Somehow, my question seems so small all of a sudden . . . so naive. Their perspective is beyond my experience.
Toys and Arcades
When I reach the front doors of the Fairfield Public Library, I am surrounded by quite a few kids. Eleven-year-old Len says this town needs more entertainment. Moving down the line, Marc, who is eight, declares that what Fairfield needs is an arcade.
By the time I get to Chris and Shawn, both 10, it is clear that what this town definitely needs is an arcade. It's unanimous.
To even up the score, I query two girls who are standing by the phone. LeeAnne, an eight-year-old, informs me that a new shoe store is necessary, as well as more kids' stores and more clothing stores. Her comrade, Bo Anne, also eight, suggests, "One of those big fancy malls," and then elaborates on her confidante's theme by adding, "I've noticed this town really needs more quality toy stores." Well, I was impressed!
A Movie Theater & Restaurants
At Yummy's Bakery, the whole gang quickly works themselves up to a good roll, tossing out their recommendations with abandon, and seconding many of their co-workers' comments. One suggests that Fairfield needs a new movie theater with ten screens, a new sound system, and a projector that doesn't break down. A few other people in town mention this, too. A square that has more stores than offices on it . . . a Mexican restaurant . . . and a good Italian restaurant! And lastly, but not leastly, a call is made for a place for teenagers to hang out at.
A saleswoman who is with her daughter at Revelations Bookstore says, "More things for kids to do, not $200 art courses--a lot of small towns have recreation centers . . . I don't know why we don't." She continues this thought with, "an injection of fresh, younger thinking." This theme keeps popping up all over town.
A businessman at the next table mentions the need for a mall here. I wonder if a small town could support a mall. It sounds convenient, but at least the mall in Ottumwa is only half an hour away. And if you want an all-day, all-out affair, there is always the huge new mall in Coralville.
Julie, the owner of the cafe/bookstore, says, "The only thing I can think of is a fountain in the square . . . but I think that's silly." I assure her that it certainly is not! She also wants to express her appreciation for the way the town "keeps up the parks and the square so nice."
Across the street at the Fairfield hotel, the ladies who work there also mention the need for a place for the kids in town to go. It's inescapable.
Inside Larry's Barber Shop, Ron, a machinist by trade, thinks Fairfield could use a few more factories "for a bigger industrial base." Mr. Koebke, a self-employed window-washer and school bus driver, thinks that a bigger downtown, not a bigger mall, is the answer.
Moving from economics back to fun and games, the two boys on the other side of the barber shop have their own ideas that one could say are business related and would encourage a broader economic base here in town. Matthew, 11, opts for a Burger King, while his brother Travis, 14, thinks Fairfield could use a Baskin Robbins and a card/comic shop, "like the one in Ottumwa." His father, who works with computers, puts in another vote for a new movie theater.
The Night Owls
Next door, at Stogies Smoke Shop, the owner, who plays the guitar, also came up with a brilliant business plan, I thought, that would further the economic base of a small Midwestern town via the arts by suggesting that Fairfield needs a venue for the arts, "for musicians and poets--a nightclub."
At Everybody's, requests for "night life, some clubs and cafes that stay open after 10 p.m." are made. Mr. Sims, who overhears the question, says this town needs "a club, a socializing place that's open till midnight, like a Java House up in Iowa City."
Another shopper feels that Fairfield needs more meditators, "which is why I came here in the first place." And someone finally mentions "better weather." I knew this would come out eventually.
How About a Sea of Greens?
A woman at Somebody Cares also wants "some trees, some mountains, and some water," insisting that "if New York City can have trees on the concrete, then we should!" A sales clerk also feels that a water fountain should grace the middle of the square. See, Julie, it's not so silly.
Some of the ladies at Carol's Apparels are interested in more than just adding a water fountain to beautify the town, but picture Fairfield immersed in a sea of flowers, trees, and plants that would greet visitors and passersby, especially along Highway 34 going east, and "exude what the town has to offer--the warmth that it has," states Ms. Wanda Roth.
Next door, at Tetelestai Christian Books, Ms. Connie Cavanaugh is the first to mention the idea of removing the penny parking meters from the square. She says, "We have to be the last town in Iowa that still has them--but it's a nice comment when the only thing you have to complain about is the penny parking meters."
I think about this for a moment, and recall hearing about people who had actually received parking tickets for having exceeded all the time that pennies could buy them. I guess if you got a ticket on account of a penny, removing those offending meters is just the ticket. But somehow, I love them. There is something so outrageously generous and contemptuous about only having to pay a penny, but having to pay it nonetheless--or else.
On the square, a farmer and retired machinist and tool-and-dye maker with clear deep-set eyes says, "Keep our agricultural land intact." Then he mentions that people who live within a two-mile zone can't vote in Fairfield. And, he says, "Stop the dumping into Cedar Creek . . . keep our water pure, use our own water--we don't need another lake."
More Wishes
Looking out from the gazebo, I see flowers and bushes and birds, and a few stores and restaurants. I hear some cars whiz by, and feel the hushed humidity of late summer settle on my skin.
A water fountain would like this place, I think. And all the different kinds of people that make Fairfield what it is could toss their pennies into its clear waters, if they choose, rather than into the parking meters--so that instead of getting time, maybe they could get wishes.
I make my own wishes while walking home. I picture a revamped movie theater with a new sound system and projector. A new recreation center, where children and teenagers of all ages can hang out, will surely be a reality very soon, being so reasonable--and so necessary.
And as I am walking down Main Street again, my last wish has to do with the way a well-laid sidewalk, so level and smooth at the outset, regardless of who has laid it there, can give way to cracks and fissures. And it has to do with the way fresh green spears of grass, made by the Creator, come in to fill these gaps with something even greater.
I pass by those wooden chairs again, and the conversation I am experiencing slips beyond what Fairfield needs. A spell of innocence lingers in the wide open sky.
