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I’ve got a small town point to make, but first let’s review a few definitions.
During the Cold War the terms “First World” and “Second World” were used to classify a country’s alliance. The creation of NATO and the Warsaw Pact roughly divided the major world powers into two spheres—east versus west, communist versus capitalist, the U.S. versus the USSR. In 1952, the French demographer Alfred Sauvy coined the term “Third World” to refer to everyone else, the countries unaligned and uninvolved with either side of the Cold War division.
At the end of the Cold War, the three worlds model became economic labels. The First World now refers to Western, industrialized states, while the Second World consists of the communist and former communist states. Today the term “Second World” is virtually nonexistent.
The Third World still encompasses “everybody else,” mostly in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East, and is a catchall for “developing nations” that are poor and less technologically advanced. They have unstable governments, illiteracy and disease, a lack of a middle class, and a lot of foreign debt.
A popular phrase in America is “First World problem”. It’s an informal term used to describe all the issues we lucky First World people complain about. Things like loss of internet, our favorite restaurant shutting down, or the grocery store is out of the best flavor of ice cream. At our house, John and I complain about something insignificant, then repeat the phrase, “hashtag First World problem”, and joke that our ancestors are rolling in their graves. My grandmother Goar grew a garden, milked a cow, raised chickens, and birthed her children at home. She believed the pinnacle of frivolity was ice makers in refrigerators.
But small towns have even more problems, major issues that we might not realize. That’s why I’m writing this article. According to our big city neighbors, we are facing real adversity.
We can all name a few situations, I’m sure. We have to drive thirty minutes to find a nationally recognized restaurant, or a real grocery store or movie theater. The big city folks label those instances an insurmountable hardship, akin to churning our own butter or washing our clothes down in the creek. But we’ve got another hardship, one I hadn’t considered.
When we choose to eat food not prepared in our home, we have a genuine dilemma. We’re forced to get into our motor vehicles and trek several miles to the place where the meal is being prepared. We don’t have those high falootin’, big city luxuries called Uber Eats and Door Dash.
The previous sentence probably gave small town residents a good chuckle, because you don’t mind leaving your house to eat a meal. I don’t either—I consider it part of the adventure, leaving my home and eating in another town. I might even splurge and eat in the big city! But my metropolitan friends and family shudder with horror at my lack of food delivery. “What? They don’t even deliver pizza to your house? You have to go and get it? Oh, the humanity!”
Those of us who have turned our backs on big city living (and apparently civilization) have made some tradeoffs, but we know we’re living the good life. We’ve exchanged meal deliveries for meals at home. They’re cheaper and we spend less time in our cars and more time with the ones we love. Maybe our ancestors had it right. Maybe I should learn to churn butter… #smalltownproblems
Jann Goar Franklin graduated Russellville High School in 1989. You can reach her at jann@jannfranklin.com