I sometimes stop at the gas station in the morning after I drop my kids off at the bus stop to fill up my tank. It’s the only gas station for miles, the only anything for miles, really, sitting on a hill next to a rural divided highway on the edge of a small village.
Sometimes I run inside to grab a Red Bull (zero sugar, small can), because raising two kids, building an independent consulting firm, and recapturing a centuries-old family farm from the wilderness that threatens to envelope it all at the same time is exhausting.
And when I do, I am just delighted to see a group of older men, likely farmers or retired farmers, dressed in their flannel shirts, Carharts, rubber boots, and jeans or overalls, all huddled together around two small round tables. These white-haired, tractor driving, crop harvesting, livestock managing men have found a way to create community in the most unlikely of places – smack dab in the middle of a gas station convenience store.
All around them, teenagers rush around grabbing caffeine and snacks on their way to the local high school, working parents chase frantic toddlers into the restroom in the back of the store, and business people dash in and out, grabbing a Frappucino or a Diet Coke.
By the 7 o’clock hour, the farmers’ paper coffee cups are empty, but the conversation is still going strong. They show no signs of leaving when I step out of the building with my Red Bull.
I remember when I was little, my Grampy used to walk two block to the corner deli in the morning. Sitting at the bar, he and his buddies shared an inexpensive cup of coffee (in a real ceramic coffee cup!) and the daily news. Tucked between the locally owned hospital a flower shop, and an office supply store, that corner deli served an intensely important need for the neighborhood and it wasn’t the need for sliced meats and cheeses. It was where people ran into each other, learned of their neighbors’ success and struggles, found ways to support one another, and build a sense of community, togetherness, and belonging.
These days, the corner deli is all but extinct. But these farmers have found a way to improvise. They get in their dually pickup trucks and drive miles to find this little gas station with two small bistro tables and coffee in paper cups just to get the sense of community we all so desperately need.
Imagine how much more successful, connected, resilient, and happy we’d all be if we still had third spaces on every street corner and reasons to pass by them. I think we’re coming to a turning point. People are ready to reclaim their communities, to regain their sense of belonging, and to reestablish their lost relationships. We just need to rebuild the environments that make these desires possible, environments with locally owned and operated pharmacies, cafes, dry cleaners, bookstores, convenience stores, and more. The question is when we will take ownership of this rebuilding exercise so that the results serve us instead of some corporate stakeholders in a far flung location. Are you ready? I know I am.
