Just a Small-Town Boy

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City consumerism also bothered me. Urban "alternative culture" seemed defined by it. Want to make the world a better place? Buy fair trade instead of Folgers, hemp instead of Gap. I do. And I believe that doing so makes a difference -- up to a point. After that, the difference between a Volvo-driving co-op Rasta and an Escalade-driving corporate drone boils down to brand affiliation. I wanted a life in which brands were irrelevant.

After my second child was born, I had little time or money to enjoy city life. In fact, I started to hate it. I was sick of looking at the litter. I was sick of traffic, an hour of anxiety just to visit a friend across town. I was sick of feeling like I couldn't confront the cursing teenagers who made the neighborhood playground scary for my kids, sick of the low-level hostility of strangers, sick of dirty snow in the winter and a spring that smelled like dog crap instead of dirt. One afternoon I watched as my daughter, Irene, cowered in the back yard with her hands over her ears while a semitruck rumbled down the street, and I realized that it was time to get out.

TWO YEARS AGO we rolled into Viroqua, population 4,335, for the first time on a cold January day. It didn't look like Eden to me. The north end of town is a vanilla Midwestern strip -- Wal-Mart, McDonald's, Subway, car dealerships. I couldn't imagine that the place could offer respite from urban junk culture. Over the course of a weekend, though, this small Wisconsin town won us over.

The trip was the culmination of three years of planning. We had listed the attributes we wanted in a small town: a bookstore, a thriving food co-op, good schools, an arts community, affordable housing. Also on our list were items like quiet back yards, beautiful scenery, and nearby parks. Viroqua, an hour off the interstate, checked out. Located in the "driftless" region of Wisconsin, missed by the glaciers that scraped the Great Plains, it's full of ancient cliffs, fertile valleys, spring-fed trout streams, and old oak stands.

Most importantly, we wanted a place to raise our children -- Nate, 16; Irene, 6; and Sam, 3 -- where at least some of our neighbors shared our values, while the rest would tolerate them. In Viroqua, two institutions that have shaped the growth and character of the region in recent years gave us hope that we would find these kind, kindred spirits.

Organic Valley, the largest independent organic farmers' co-op in the nation, has lured people interested in alternative agriculture to this place. Some claim that our county has the most organic farmers per capita in the nation, and it's easy to believe. You can find fresh, local organics at the farmers' market and the food co-op (which will open a big new store this summer); we buy milk, eggs, and produce right off the farm.

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