I get questions about Hartland.

What’s the easiest way to get to Hartland? Either be born here or be in the Federal Witness Protection Program.

How come it’s so flat around Hartland? The Township Mountain Removal Program was a great success.

Small towns don’t change much, do they? They change. When the music changes, so does the dance.

The city was named after Hartland, Vermont and incorporated in 1893. The volunteer fire department started in 1894. Electricity arrived in 1914 at the Electric Theatre which showed moving plays. The first airplane flew over downtown Hartland in 1920. Everybody ran outside to look at it. I still run outside to look at one.

I remember the pride I felt when I put on the town team’s uniform that read “Hartland” when I was 14. It was a used purple shirt, faded to pink. My pants were black with white stars running down the legs. The hat was green.

In 1909, Hartland, according to the Hartland Herald, had: “one bank (a second bank opened a few years later), one railroad depot, one mayor, one saloon, one tinshop, one dray line, two elevators, four painters, one physician, one creamery, one club room, fine dwellings, several groves, one drug store, one auctioneer, three churches, one undertaker, two restaurants, 20 hunters, three good shots, one opera house, one barber shop, four mails daily, one lumber yard, excellent schools, a good orchestra, one harness shop, one meat market, a uniformed band, one photographer, two livery stables, one printing office, one telegraph office, one millinery store, one hardware store, one furniture store, a waterworks system, two telephone lines, good fire protection, one Woodman Lodge, three general stores, one implement store, a uniformed marshal, two rural mail carriers, a village hall, one firm of stock buyers, enterprising merchants, three insurance writers, a curfew law that works, a uniformed fire company, two Justices of the Peace, eight regular trains daily, prettiest girls in the state, not a single old maid, one obliging railroad station agent, one contractor and builder, one girls’ basketball team, two young people’s societies, lots of babies (more expected), fine school building, a fine park, one blacksmith and machine shop, many pretty and able school marms, several handsome and eligible bachelors, one brick block, plenty of room for more, best ball team between here and New Richland, and the best dairy country surrounding it in the world.” And a newspaper.

The want list included, “a jeweler, an ice dealer, more boosters, a poultry house, larger population, more permanent walks, a brick and tile factory, an electric light system, more rentable residences, small factories of all kinds, more modern store buildings, improved roads leading to town and everyone to know the biggest little town in the state.”

Hartland isn’t near the ocean or the mountains. That’s OK. It’s hard to miss what we never had.

We still have pretty and able school marms, but the school closed and is for sale. Several other institutions of learning like the grocery store and the barber shop closed. We hung on to the electricity, but most of the 1909 businesses are gone. We retain a number of fine enterprises. We are a microcosm of the world’s economy. Dave Beck, a U.S. labor leader, said, “I define a recession as when your neighbor loses his job, but a depression is when you lose your own.”

I couldn’t wait to get away from Hartland when I was a teenager. Once I got away, I couldn’t wait to get back.

My neighbor Crandall says, “I gripe about the cold and the snow, but I really shouldn’t complain. It doesn’t do any good. People either don’t care about my problems or they are thrilled that I have some. Living in Hartland is the least of my problems.”

My neighbor’s neighbor Still Bill adds, “My brother Never Sweat Norm likes to travel. That’s why he got that job delivering pizzas. He went to the big city once, tripped on an escalator and fell down the stairs for two hours. I have plenty to worry about, but at least I don’t have to worry about that happening in Hartland.”

My father had an old Barlow jackknife. The blades had worn thin. I told him that I was going to buy him a new knife. He said, “Thanks, but no thanks.” He liked his old Barlow.

Those who are the happiest are those who are happy with what they have.

We get by because we are content with less.

In Thornton Wilder’s play “Our Town,” Emily said, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it — every, every minute?”

Wilder wrote, “My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, but just enjoy your ice cream while it’s on your plate.”

I don’t know why, but I love cherry nut.

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.