I grew up in a small town (population 250?) in the Pacific Northwest. Twice a week my mom and I walked to the Igloo (a real butcher shop) and Adams (the general store). Every month my dad cashed his paycheck and they paid the bills with money orders, including the mortgage. I was 8 before they got a checking account. At the butcher shop, owned by an old German man, they actually had penny candy. Once a week I could get a jawbreaker. Adams had square nails in the wood flooring. I think I was 10 before I first saw an ice cream truck. We only had one car and my dad used it to go to work so we walked everywhere we needed to go.