You know you're in a small town when motorists gladly slow down, or even stop, to allow a pedestrian to limp slowly across Main Street.

I suppose that's one of the reasons why I live in rural Kansas, even though I could move almost anywhere in this country.

Where else but in a small town would drivers not only make way for a laboring human being, but also know his or her life story? "There goes good ol' Joe," the driver thinks. "It's good to see that he's recovering so well from his operation."

This attitude is summarized by a poem that has lurked around the fringes of my memory. For years, it was printed in the weekly newspaper published by "Bus" and Mary Boyd at Mankato.

But I neglected to copy this poem, and today I couldn't remember the exact wording.

No problem. Thanks to the miracle that is Google, I now have varied versions of the poem spread before me. The one that I like best is attributed to Stephen Grellet, a Quaker missionary from France to the United States who lived from 1773 to 1855.

He wrote: "I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing, therefore, that I can do, or any kindness I can show to any fellow human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer nor neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again."

Well, I'm not naive enough to think that all small-town folks feel this way, and I know that caring people also live in cities. But I believe that Grellet's attitude permeates much of the rural America that I have chosen as my lifelong home.

Maybe that's one reason why I worry about the dwindling small towns and the loss of farm families who have supported those towns.

To me, the "real" America has existed in small communities which lived by America's traditional values -- values such as helping neighbors, working hard for a day's pay, caring for your family and feeling that your word is your bond.

When our nation mobilized a huge army to fight World War II, our officers learned that many of the best soldiers came from farms and small towns. These young men were self-reliant and accustomed to hard work. They already knew how to operate machinery, so driving a tank or flying an airplane wasn't particularly difficult for them. Most importantly, they could be trusted to do their duty.

During the 60 years since that war, many of those veterans, and their descendants, have moved to urban areas. Hopefully, most of them carried those valuable American traits into their new urban settings, and passed them on to their children.

But we read reports of disturbing new national trends. Today's people have become highly impatient as they struggle to cope with the traffic jams and other irritations of their fast-paced lives.

In the traditional sense, most communities have disappeared. Today's people are connected by their associations at work or in specialized groups, and hardly know their next-door neighbors.

Worst of all, to me, is the fact that nature is almost entirely excluded from their lives. Except for visiting an occasional city park, they seldom hear the birds sing, smell the flowers or watch a spectacular sunset (except on television).

This is important because nature soothes our souls and furnishes hope for the future as we watch the eternal unfolding of the seasons.

Meanwhile, those who expect instant gratification run up huge credit-card debts. They have forgotten about, or never learned, to save money. Everyone wants to win all the time, regardless of the emotional and monetary expenses of winning. Making money is more important than devoting time to their family.

Winning a political argument is so important that, if they don't win, many of them try to destroy their opponents.

These people need a great deal of solace. Right now, they need the good deeds and kindnesses that missionary Grellet wrote about. Not tomorrow or the next day, but right now. They need to adopt this attitude themselves, because it will soothe their souls.

Living here in rural Kansas, I'm fully aware that I shall not pass this way again. But I hope somebody does, because our culture is worth saving.

Darrel Miller lives near Downs in rural Osborne County and is a retired weekly newspaper editor.