You might recall my article on small town famous. I discussed how everybody knows everybody, and much like celebrities we don’t have a lot of privacy. But I’ve noticed a phenomenon lately, one I’ve named small town familiar.
When I trek the one mile to downtown Grand Cane, people greet me by name. People I’ve never met tell me “Good morning” and add my name to the end. How do these people know me? My first conclusion was that I have a doppelganger, an exact double of me. Based on my original theory, my doppelganger is traipsing all over town, chatting it up with everyone she meets. She must be nice, based on the reception I’ve received. People grin at me, and put warmth into their words.
John assures me there is no doppelganger and people are just friendly. He’s probably right, which disappoints me. I’d already formulated a plan to lie in wait for this doppelganger so I could introduce myself and strike up a friendship. Sure, I have several friends, but I don’t have any that look exactly like me. Maybe we could pull some pranks on people! But my husband claims lurking around downtown waiting for my mysterious twin is both weird and borderline stalking. He’d prefer I find another way to meet this mysterious woman, if she even exists.
Most likely I’m just small town familiar. When such a small population exists in a square mile, we’re going to run into the same people over and over. Although I don’t remember meeting these people, I do have a bad memory and I’ve probably been introduced. Nathan brought a friend home for a visit and I introduced myself. Nathan’s friend stared at me and replied, “Yes, Mrs. Franklin, we’ve met. We’ve met twice, actually.” That was incredibly embarrassing, but I found out later he’d grown a beard since the last time I introduced myself. That made me feel a little better.
Don’t tell my husband, but I’ve got a lead on that doppelganger. I had coffee with a friend a few weeks ago and she scolded me. “I waved at you yesterday, when you got out of your car in front of the village hall. But you ignored me. Didn’t you see me?”
“I never left the house yesterday. Are you sure it was me?” I spent six minutes giving my friend a play by play of the day before, and she spent three more minutes describing the woman in great detail, right down to her shoes. Which sounded nice, by the way, and yet another reason I want to meet my doppelganger. She has fantastic taste in shoes.
Jann Goar Franklin graduated Russellville High School in 1989. You can reach her at jann@jannfranklin.com