Heartland Towns Dying but Spirit Lives On in the Heart of O.C.

Over the years, haven’t we waxed every last ounce of nostalgia out of America’s heartland?

As a guy who spent his formative years in Nebraska off Highway 14 in Marquette (pop. 200), I can be a runaway freight train if left unchecked on the subject.

So, yes, we’ve probably overdone it, but for us children of the Plains, it’s a story that runs river-deep through our veins--and our psyches.

With more than casual interest, then, I, and no doubt thousands of Southern Californians from the Midwest, read The Times story this week about a congressional effort to bail out rural America.

The idea is to give tax breaks to homeowners or merchants who settle in the shrinking towns that have helped flavor America since the first colonists landed but which have been going the way of the buffalo and the swimming hole.

The proposal has the whiff of desperation.

Even many of the Nebraska townspeople quoted in the story wondered aloud if the horse wasn’t already out of the barn.

It was another sentiment in the story, however, that caught my attention.

A young farmer from Meadow Grove (pop. 311) said of the country life:

“We have something here that you don’t have in Orange County, Calif. When there’s trouble, people help.”

The farmer has it only half-right, I think.

The willingness to help your neighbor is, indeed, rooted in Midwesterners.

It probably dates to a time when, on occasion, everyone had to bring in the sheaves--or the sheaves didn’t get brought in.

But it’s part of Midwestern mythmaking to say that the same traits don’t exist in the population centers, especially on the coasts.

And as long as the farmer mentioned Orange County ...

I remember talking a few years ago to Russell Coble of Capistrano Beach. Seeing one night that his neighbor’s house was on fire, Coble pulled a semi-conscious man from the living room.

Knowing the man had a wife, probably in the bedroom where the fire was centered, Coble made several attempts to re-enter the home, finally succeeding through a back door and rescuing the woman.

Then there was local attorney Bill Halle, who happened to be sitting in court when an infirm and aging couple were trying to represent themselves in a bankruptcy. Halle realized the couple were over their heads and offered his card. In the ensuing months, he spent dozens of hours advising the couple and drafting legal documents--never charging a cent.

Or the Laguna Beach effort of 26 organizations and churches that helped about 370 families routed from their homes during the giant fire that struck the town in 1993.

All of those deeds were pretty Midwestern. We could probably fill up a large section of the newspaper with others.

After 15 years in Orange County, I can’t say that Midwesterners are kinder or more generous or more heroic than the Californians I know.

It’s more a matter that the familiarity in rural America makes it easier to help.

Steve Jacobsen, a friend from those Marquette days who still lives and farms in the area, says it stands to reason that people in large population centers would be more cautious, if only because they aren’t as likely to know their neighbors.

People around Marquette think nothing of driving 25 miles to shop or as far as 60 miles to work in larger cities.

Jacobsen says the essence of small-town life lingers but isn’t thriving.

“Some of it still exists,” he says.

“The camaraderie that goes with a small town, knowing people, waving to people on the road when you’re driving. That’s still appealing, but people tend to be so busy now, just trying to survive, that coffee shops don’t even make it, because people don’t have time to stop in.”

In the end, we all feel it slipping away--those who once lived in rural America and those who still do. I’m not sure the past can be legislated back into existence.

We may have to settle for memories that long outlive the coffee shops.

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Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Readers may reach Parsons at (714) 966-7821, at The Times’ Orange County edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or at dana.parsons

@latimes.com.