Small towns like Medway can be found in the depths and corners of every single state in the country. They’re quirky, desolate, and… boring. That is- if you don’t know what to look for. From the outside looking in, Medway may strike you as just a small patch of the simple life, but true Medwaynians are a breed all their own. So how do you know if you’re from Medway?
The most common vehicle you will see driving down the street other than a utility truck or a tractor? You guessed it. A redneck’s prized possession. A pick-up truck. Medway might as well be an advertisement for Ford and Chevrolet. Kids growing up dream of that hand-me-down F150. Adults dream of that V6 turbo and a lift kit. It’s basically a right of passage.
Even if you are just driving through Medway to take in the scenery, it’s obvious that you’ll mostly get farms. Lots of them. These days, Medway is a little more “developed” and business-savvy, but it wasn’t always like that. Everywhere you turned was a farm. Cow farms, pig farms, horse farms… Most of the town’s milk came straight off its own farms (Yes Medway still has a milkman). Most of the kids played on these farms. Most of the adults worked on these farms. It’s just our thing. One thing I personally won’t miss? Constantly making the mistake of running around barefoot and feeling that warm cow pie squish between my toes. Gross!
Before that weird phase where everyone thought having a pet pig was the coolest thing, Medway already made it a thing. That’s right. Residents in Medway raised house pigs. House pot-bellied pigs! (Because mini or ‘teacup’ pigs aren’t actually a thing.) They make great companions believe it or not. My first pig was Petunia-Mae and let me tell you, that pig was my best friend! We went absolutely everywhere together and it wasn’t uncommon. It is completely normal to see someone walking their pet pig down the sidewalk in this strange little town I call home. Pretty cool, right?!
It’s nearly impossible to go anywhere in this country without passing by a bar, or in some cases twenty. Medway isn’t an exception to that. There’s -a- bar in town. Maybe two if you count the Chinese takeout place downtown. There are some crazy nights at this one bar, but it’s not where you’ll usually find the locals. A night of drinking, partying, and friends almost always means there is a campfire (which almost always turns into a bonfire) in someone’s backyard woods somewhere in town, and everyone is there getting their weekend warrior on. Who needs overpriced drinks and a less-than-awesome DJ on a lame dance floor when you can BYOB to the biggest dance floor ever, the outdoors?! Not to mention everyone loves a giant burning pit they can throw stuff in. Something about beer and a warm campfire just always brings people together.
The last piece of the puzzle, the biggest indicator that you sprouted from Medway, and the one unspoken rule that seems to be born with everyone in town: Boston. Sports. Dominate. Even though us small-towners enjoy watching our homegrown little leaguers all the way up to the Varsity All-Stars, one thing will never change: We worship our professional teams. From the NE Patriots, to the Celtics, the Sox, and of course the Bruins, Boston is our home-away-from-home and our teams will forever have our support. No one and I mean -no one- misses a game. It’s practically a crime if ‘the’ game (whichever one it may be at the time) isn’t on every single TV screen in town.
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