Long before we moved back to Mayberry, I used to daydream about living in a small town with a central commercial district.  My grandmother, Marie, lived just one block from Mayberry’s Main Street when I was young girl, and I have a trove of fond memories of walking “to town” with Gram for sundry errands. 

Back in those days, Mayberry had everything you needed.  Of course you could drive the hour or so to the big city if you wanted, but why?  The list of thriving businesses in downtown Mayberry included two pharmacies, two clothing stores, a shoe store, a florist, two hardware stores, a fabric shop, a five and dime, two appliance stores, a grocery store, two banks, a movie theater, a radio station, a daily newspaper, and the Post Office.

That was the ‘70s.  Before big-box stores.  The year I left Mayberry for college, a Wal-Mart came to the edge of town and before I could earn a degree, nearly every business on Main Street was struggling or had closed.  Not long after that, Wal-Mart left town.  I don’t even try to mask or temper my distaste for this most irresponsible of corporate “citizens” anymore.  (But I do try my darnedest not to shop there!) Call me a romantic, call me a naïf, call me a Luddite . . . you can even call me a liberal.  All I know is that before Wal-Mart and its unbridled greed masked as shareholder return came to Mayberry, I had a hell of a town.

Twenty-five years later, we have a Main Street with empty storefronts and a smattering of businesses -- nothing resembling the thriving commercial district that used to anchor Mayberry.  It saddens me to the core to see my town decimated in this way. As the backbone of small businesses has disappeared in our town, so has our middle class.  Today, our county ranks lower in per capita income, higher in unemployment, and lower in educational achievement than many of the other 76 counties in Oklahoma.

So why did we move back?  Some might say nostalgia, and that certainly played a part.  Though I no longer have family in Mayberry, I do have many friends and they drew us back as surely as anything else.  But somewhere deep inside, a strong tug also came from the desire to leave the homogenized existence that characterizes suburban life and to make a difference, no matter how meager, to the small and struggling town I love.

Not long ago I read a magazine article about town-ness -- the measure of a community by how much is within walking distance.  The author said more and more urban areas are trying to create town-ness as they initiate infill projects.  The article reminded me what it was like when I lived in Boston, where nearly every neighborhood is built around a “square.”  I lived one mile from Davis Square -- just a couple of subway stops west of Harvard Square, where the entire world awaited, or so it seemed.  Twice a day I walked one mile to and from Davis Square to catch the Red Line to work.  There were no malls near Davis Square, but there were enough Mom-and-Pop sub shops, tailors, cafes, dry cleaners, small grocers, and laundromats to take care of my daily needs.

I started wondering why walking a mile now seems so unreasonable when running an errand.  And, I realized there’s more town left in Mayberry than one might assume after a drive down Main Street.  Within one mile of my home, I can walk to the schools, a convenience store, the grocery store, two banks, the post office, a Chinese restaurant, the library, a fitness center, a couple of churches, a dollar store, the golf course, and several of my friend’s homes.

I don’t of course – walk -- so trained am I by two decades of long commutes and spread-out suburban shopping.  But Saturday morning I arose early and decided I would.  I’m walking to the Post Office, I told Mr. Mom.  A sack of valentines in hand, I strolled along the grid of sidewalks that link my home to Main Street.

Mayberry was built when sidewalks were important and, though rarely used now, they pay homage to our long-held sense of community.