Perhaps I don’t know you, but of this I’m sure: you’ve been there, walked those streets, and met its citizens. Mayberry, USA. You have stood within its businesses, its courthouse, maybe even its squad car! In your mind, at least, you could be there even now.

It was on a detour, once, that I steered my old truck towards Mount Airy, North Carolina. Young Andy Griffith was born there, and years later found himself a rising star in Hollywood. On a sound stage, folks built a small town to fit his memories. I’ve not been to California; I suspect it would leave me quite cold. But the morning I spent in Mount Airy warmed my heart. More on that later.

Ten seconds ago I checked Google Maps; in seven hours I can be there, but it’s truly not necessary. The magic I felt those several years ago? I couldn’t quite pin it down, but I know now that it isn’t just something in the water down there. Friends, I’ve walked the streets of the Green Garden County. Hidden just under the surface, it’s here: that same something special. First, though, I shall take a negative turn. Why are our downtown’s sputtering? What brought their decades-long decline? I’m here to tell you, it is your fault…and mine! You and I kneel at the alter of the almighty dollar; in the spirit of saving a nickel, we bought that gallon of paint at Wally World instead of Denton Hardware. We bypassed Evey’s Appliances and bought that new refrigerator at Lowe’s. We could have filled our shopping carts at Four Jae or Tri-Me, but drove to Food Lion instead. Once, you bought your shoes from the guy who coached the little league team; the family who sold you your prescriptions were in the next pew on Sunday morning. But, that pesky nickel. To Dover, to Seaford, to Salisbury, you and I rushed off. Excuses: so far to walk! I dare you. Dare you to park downtown and count your steps. Compare them to how far you walk out at Denton Plaza.

It’s a tough row to hoe, running a small business. To make a living out of a 500-1,000 square foot space seems implausible these days, yet friends and neighbors of yours are still doing it. Somewhere, today, they are sitting there waiting for the phone to ring. Waiting for you, or I, to walk in the door. Oh, yes, I know the feeling. I was there, in my own little building, on a side street. Folks would come to me with stories. “I had my car fixed at one of those big, fancy shops. They had it for months, gave lousy service, and when I went to pick it up they’d done a terrible job! I really wanted to have you do that $10,000 job, Bryan, but…” But, they wanted to save a nickel, or have something just a tad more convenient, that’s what they were telling me. In the end, my phone didn’t ring enough.

Can’t you just picture Sheriff Andy walking down Main Street in Preston? Floyd the barber, clipping away in some little shop in Greensboro? A fill-up with a smile from Goober Pyle at a little gas station in Goldsboro? Mayberry is here, ready to awaken. Back, for a moment, to Mount Airy. It’s about the size of Cambridge, with all of the troubles that face a town that size. The real town, these days, is out on a four lane highway, with strip malls and chain restaurants. Downtown? The locals don’t spend their paychecks there; it’s all about the tourist trade. I didn’t see anything down there that we don’t have right here. We have the ingredients. Truly, we have something very special. Why, you’re holding part of it in your hands right now (or perhaps peering at it upon your screen.) The Caroline Review, itself, is a part of our charm. Flip through the pages and you’ll see the names and faces of folks who, right this moment, are at your service. There’s no ad here from Amazon, my friends; just hard-working, regular folks. Spend that extra nickel, and spend it in Caroline County. And tell your friends. Bring them home. Home to Mayberry, Caroline County, USA.