Meet the Casons…

For the 4th of July weekend the entire Cason clan congregated where our roots are planted – Harrisonburg, Va…. Not ringing a bell?

Where James Madison University is… still not coming to you? Shenandoah Valley… Still nothing? Ok, it’s a small town about 2.5 hours south of D.C. Population: 40,468 (and that includes JMU students, and I think the Census may have even included cattle).

That means you could put my entire hometown in Bank of America stadium and still not fill it up. I think more people than that even go to Panthers games.

We’re talking about a town that compensates for billboards by putting a sign on the side of a tractor trailer parked alongside the main road (Main Street of course). The skyscraper is a poultry plant, and as a result the town has a lingering aroma of chicken feed.

But on my visit home, I discovered the small town of Harrisonburg is now a growing metropolis… There’s even a Target and an alt-weekly newspaper now! And some cool new bars that are nightlife reporting worthy… Including a hookah bar!

That, and it’s really not all that different from Charlotte.

First we had a cook-out where I realized that my 15-year-old niece looks almost identical to me (already) with the exception of brown eyes and a scholarship to Oxford in the works.

One of my sisters, my mom and some of the friends I’ve had since elementary school went to the ‘burg’s new bar, Clementine, which adds some culture to the conservative little community. It was like something you’d find in SouthEnd or Dilworth. The menu was even eccentric for those venues however; the wine list included a red that was described as “dark chocolate aroma with flavors of tobacco and leather.” …wtf?

But my sister Kathy went with the Dead Guy’s Ale Rogue… because she’s a Forensic Pathologist – a real life CSI hottie, except she was on National Geographic channel rather (they did a documentary on her), see… (weak stomachs beware, it’s a little more graphic than an episode of CSI).

While we were there, the old Republican mayor came in…fresh off his Harley wearing a skull and bone belt and a Hawaiian shirt.

After that we went to Firetop, the new hookah bar. A hookah bar in a hicktown? Considering the only thing Middle Eastern on the menu other than tobacco flavors was pita chips and hummus… I thought the hookah went to my head when I looked behind me and thought I saw a misplaced giraffe – but instead it was 7’4” Ralph Sampson, who is, to date, still the hometown hero.

Being in Harrisonburg didn’t feel all that different from being in Charlotte. Sure, the Q.C. has more people, more bars, bigger buildings and more access to opportunities and culture, but it still has the dynamics of a small town. I can’t go out in Charlotte, not even to Harris Teeter, without seeing someone I know. Everyone seems to know everyone or be interrelated in someway, you tend to see the same people every time you go Uptown, and more importantly, people are neighborly. No matter how much Charlotte grows and expands, we’re all neighbors in this big town, small city.

This article appears in Jul 2-8, 2008.