No internet, no problem

After I graduated, I didn’t have a plan. Lots of hobbies but no passion - that kind of thing. So I decided to backpack around the country. Visit spots I’d never seen. Try to find something, somewhere or someone that ignited an excitement in me and gave me some purpose.

I found that in Hillsville, ID. 

I get to help people. It’s a wonderful feeling. The people of Hillsville look to me to solve so many of their problems and I pretty much always come through.

Though, I guess, if I’m being honest with myself, there are better ways I could help the people of Hillsville. I do take advantage of them a little if I really think about it.

Here’s the thing. The people of Hillsville, they don’t know about the internet. Not like they’re some remote village in Africa with no electricity and no way for a signal to reach them. They could totally have internet, but they just don’t know it exists.

I’m still fuzzy on exactly how this current situation came to be. There was a day when all the men went off on some kind of retreat and so I snuck into the Mayor’s house to see if I could get the inside scoop on this town. I’m not painting myself in the best light here, I realize. But when you stumble onto a town that doesn’t know the internet exists, you get a little curious.

Anyway, I found his home office, which is the only mayor’s office, and there were a couple binders with information about the town charter and history about it, but not a lot of details. They almost seemed like drafts of a school textbook to explain their local history to kids. But, you know, following that great American tradition where you don’t really tell the kids the actual truth or all the facts, just the information you think they should know.

Basically, if I had to sum it up, at one point, the people who founded the town went off the grid together. No TVs, no internet, no current media like newspapers. So, I guess they are stuck in some weird hybrid of the early 1900s when homes had electricity and running water but no radio or TV, but with some modern conveniences thrown in like Nikes and Yeti coolers and North Face jackets.

I stumbled into Hillsville completely at random. And they were not happy to see me at first. You can imagine a group like this would not be welcoming to strangers. The kids and teenagers were excited, of course. The novelty of a new person to mix up their video game-free existence was overwhelming for some of them. But the adult, especially the mayor and other town leaders, tried to hustle me out as quickly as possible.

It happened to be late in the evening when I walked into their town square, so I was exhausted. And hungry. The mayor’s little 9-year-old niece Dottie appealed to her mom with big sad puppy dog eyes, insisting I could stay in their pool house for the night without causing any problems. Her mom talked some sense into her brother, the mayor, and Dottie swept me away to the pool house. She let me settle in and came running back a few minutes later with a steamy Hot Pocket and some Skinny Pop.

When she came back with the tray of food, I had my iPhone and hotspot out on the table as I dug through my bag for the chargers.

Her eyes got wide and she kind of snuck up to it, hands behind her back, afraid to touch it.

“What is that?” Dottie asked. Her voice was full of wonder and tinged with fear.

“My phone,” I replied casually, tossing socks and sports bras onto the rug as I continued to search for the chargers.

Dottie stood up straight and shook her head at me. She pointed to a bright red rotary phone hanging from the wall near the kitchenette. “No,” she said matter of factly. “That’s your phone. It’s the same line as the main house, but you can use it to call out if you need to talk to someone.”

My eyes moved slowly from my phone on the table to the phone on the wall. “Ok,” I said, drawing the word out. Something was fishy. I could tell already. Though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

Dottie retreated to the house. Thoroughly freaked out by the smelly lady with the weird black, flat rectangle she called a phone.

Luckily for me, Dottie either forgot about my phone or didn’t care or decided it was our secret. Whatever the reason, she kept her mouth shut and it worked in my favor.

The next day, I explored the town a bit with Dottie and her mom Elaine as my guides. I could see the mayor giving me the side-eye, wishing I’d get on my way already. But Elaine was not rushing me out. I think she even enjoyed my company. And I kept mostly quiet, just trying to take it all in and figure out what, exactly, was off about this town and its residents.

It didn’t take me long to realize: no TV, no radio, no news, no internet.

And I didn’t feel like it was on me to tell them what they were missing out on. It must have been by choice, right?

As I observed Elaine and Dottie and the other residents of Hillsville, I realized what a huge convenience they were missing out on. Dottie was full of questions and I would normally say, “Let’s look it up!” and whip the phone out of my pocket to Google it for her. But I didn’t. Or I overheard a child upset over a delayed shipment of sneakers. His had holes, his toes literally poking out, and his dad felt for him but with their current system, there was nothing he could do. I could have ordered those shoes on Amazon and had them there the next day with Prime delivery. But I didn’t.

Until, one day, I did.

I didn’t get my phone out in public. But I would note down all the questions and needs, then go back to the pool house and look everything up and order a bunch of stuff that I had shipped to a PO Box the next town over.

I performed little miracles for the people of Hillsville. No need to wait a month for new shoes. I’ll have them for you this week. Why is the sky blue? I can answer that for you!

The game changer came when Mr. Cogston began to run low on insulin and his son who cared for his had missed the last order deadline which meant Mr. Cogston would be out of insulin soon, with no relief in sight.

It took a little work, but that’s when people started referring to me as their Miracle Gal.

I sat in Town Square all day taking orders and writing down questions, then would come back the next day with answers, and trek to the next town once a week, on my Prime day, to pick up all the items, the mayor giving me the side eye all the while.

One afternoon, as I was walking back to HIllsville with a load of Amazon boxes and bags stacked in Dottie’s old Radio Flyer wagon, Dottie stopped me along the sidewalk, her arms crossed in front of her.

“Hey Dottie,” I paused, out of breath from lugging the heavy haul of packages. “Want to help me pull?”

“I know your magic rectangle is helping you do all this,” she said. Her voice not stern, also not curious. She knew it was a fact. “And I want in. I want to help, too.”

I smiled and we pulled the wagon to town square together.