I wave to Strangers.

Fredericktown is small. It’s officially a village, population around 2000. It has a school system, a mayor, 3 stoplights, 3 gas stations, a bowling alley and a grocery store.
A number of the “cool” people from high school are still here. Beyond them, most people don’t know me. Yet. I avoided many community things when I was here growing up. Children are just that, children, till they produce offspring, marry, or buy their own house (in that order). Farming also qualifies a person to be a grown-up. I can’t anonymously farm. People want to know who I am. I haven’t yet learned how to not tell them without being a dick. Once they know, they will offer their pre-formed opinion on my dad. And they’ll want to know how my mom is. And they’ll want to A) tell me how not to be like my dad or B) how they think the Amurrican justice system stinks.
*this is a very publicly searchable blog. i’ll be leaving some crap unsaid.

Farmers are expected to wave. They are a roadside attraction when you drive in the country. Our farm is on a medium-traffic road (which kind of baffles me, cause it drives straight into a lake 2 miles north of here) which means I, in support of inarguable tradition, wave to about 10 people a day. How flexible am I?