Walk the middle

In the town of Basin, Montana, population 255, halfway between Butte and Helena, it is possible to walk down the middle of main street, right past the church, the post office (scheduled for closure), the fire department, assorted brick edifices built in the town's booming heyday in the early 1900's, after polishing off a ribeye steak at the Silver Saddle Cafe.

Walking like this on a late summer evening is one of the great pleasures in the world. Strolling, unhurried, wondering what the town might have been like in its heyday--1903 is a good guess, the miners were taking ore from the mountains like crazy, wondering what it might be like to live here now, a small town in the Rockies whose heart is still beating.

Once in awhile you have to share the road when an old pick-up truck ambles by. But he's driving slow, a rancher come to town to pick up his mail and have a beer, and he waves though he's never seen you before.

There must be thousands upon thousands of little places like this in America, little passed by places where life goes on and on, a little rough around the edges maybe, a tad rundown, where you can walk down the middle of main street feeling pretty good about life, feeling safe, thinking that maybe there is a future and that it might not be so bad after all.