By Traci Rhoades
For most of my life, I’ve lived in the country outside a small town. In my growing-up years, that small hometown was outside of Kansas City, which we simply referred to as “the city,” but my adult hometown is even smaller than that one. You can drive straight through and barely know you were here.
Hopkins, Michigan. According to a website for kids, John Hoffmaster settled in our town in 1854. I work our local elections, and know there are still people in the area with that last name. Twenty years later, a railroad depot opened. There’s a village and a township. The village population was 615 according to the 2020 census (up 10 people from the 2010 census).
I don’t live in the village, but rather in Hopkins Township, which adds another 2,750 people to the population count. Still, that’s a third the size of the small town where I spent my childhood.
Shortly after Hoffmaster settled in the area, the town got its first post office, which stayed open until 1904. In 1906, a new post office opened, changing the name from Hopkins Station to just Hopkins.
Some little towns are known as one-stoplight towns. We have them beat. We don’t have a single stoplight. Not even a stop sign on Main Street, which turns into 128th Avenue on either side of town.
The village of Hopkins has four churches, two restaurants, one bank, a library, a gas station, a coffee shop, an ice cream shop (with limited hours) and township hall. Oh, and we do still have a post office.
For those who stop, Russo’s Pizzeria Bar and Grille (with great patio seating) or CDs Quik Mart (wonderful pizza and subs) are probably the most popular destinations.
As with so many small towns, the heart of Hopkins is the local school. We had our first high school football game last Thursday, a nailbiter against the Fruitport Trojans, and our Vikings came out on top. Hopkins Athletic Department’s Facebook page offered play-by-play updates throughout the night: “PICK 6 BY SENIOR JACKSON I. AND THE VIKINGS HAVE THE LEAD 34-28 WITH UNDER A MINUTE TO PLAY!”
I already told you I didn’t grow up here, and neither did my husband. Our daughter did, attending public school until her freshman year, when she asked to be homeschooled. She still performed on Hopkins’ Cafetorium stage, though, sharing her musical theater talent with the community alongside several of her closest friends. She graduated this last spring, and I know I’ll miss seeing her on that stage.
For some, it might seem as if a place like Hopkins is a bump in the road, just a place to pass through on your way from here to there. Let me tell you what I see on the roads that lead me home.
We get some beautiful sunrises and sunsets. There’s enough rolling hills around us to get some great views, and I highly recommend a fall drive out here in a month or two. Stop and get coffee and a muffin at Piki’s. Tell them I sent you.
There are only a handful of houses on the dirt roads surrounding our town. Yes, your car might need a car wash, or remain perpetually dirty, but you’re sure to get a friendly wave from at least a few people when they drive by you. Many a night my husband and I settle in on our back porch, no sounds but from birds and insects, and the busyness of the world feels miles away. It is miles away.
As you can imagine, the local churches in Hopkins are small. In a 2017 interview with Krista Tippett for “On Being,” the late Eugene Peterson was asked what advice he had to offer on picking a church.
Mr. Peterson: When I was a pastor of a congregation, people would leave and say, “How do I pick a church?” My usual answer was go to the closest church where you live, and the smallest. And if after six months it’s just not working, go to the next smallest.
Ms. Tippett: OK, so what is it about small rather than big?
Mr. Peterson: Because you have to deal with people as they are. And you’ve got to learn how to love them when they’re not loveable.
The same is true about a small town. It’s pretty hard to hide here, and a lot of families have been here for generations, so even harder. There’s a lot of “learning how to love one another,” and in doing so, something good develops in us too.
These days, when I go to “the city,” it’s Grand Rapids or Kalamazoo. I also like to go to the lakeshore towns as often as I can. But Hopkins is home – no stoplight and no traffic jams (unless you count the lineup of cars after the Friday night high school football game).
—————
Traci Rhoades is a faith writer who advocates for an integrated life rooted in Christ. Her family of three loves living near the beach towns of Lake Michigan.
For most of my life, I’ve lived in the country outside a small town. In my growing-up years, that small hometown was outside of Kansas City, which we simply referred to as “the city,” but my adult hometown is even smaller than that one. You can drive straight through and barely know you were here.
Hopkins, Michigan. According to a website for kids, John Hoffmaster settled in our town in 1854. I work our local elections, and know there are still people in the area with that last name. Twenty years later, a railroad depot opened. There’s a village and a township. The village population was 615 according to the 2020 census (up 10 people from the 2010 census).
I don’t live in the village, but rather in Hopkins Township, which adds another 2,750 people to the population count. Still, that’s a third the size of the small town where I spent my childhood.
Shortly after Hoffmaster settled in the area, the town got its first post office, which stayed open until 1904. In 1906, a new post office opened, changing the name from Hopkins Station to just Hopkins.
Some little towns are known as one-stoplight towns. We have them beat. We don’t have a single stoplight. Not even a stop sign on Main Street, which turns into 128th Avenue on either side of town.
The village of Hopkins has four churches, two restaurants, one bank, a library, a gas station, a coffee shop, an ice cream shop (with limited hours) and township hall. Oh, and we do still have a post office.
For those who stop, Russo’s Pizzeria Bar and Grille (with great patio seating) or CDs Quik Mart (wonderful pizza and subs) are probably the most popular destinations.
As with so many small towns, the heart of Hopkins is the local school. We had our first high school football game last Thursday, a nailbiter against the Fruitport Trojans, and our Vikings came out on top. Hopkins Athletic Department’s Facebook page offered play-by-play updates throughout the night: “PICK 6 BY SENIOR JACKSON I. AND THE VIKINGS HAVE THE LEAD 34-28 WITH UNDER A MINUTE TO PLAY!”
I already told you I didn’t grow up here, and neither did my husband. Our daughter did, attending public school until her freshman year, when she asked to be homeschooled. She still performed on Hopkins’ Cafetorium stage, though, sharing her musical theater talent with the community alongside several of her closest friends. She graduated this last spring, and I know I’ll miss seeing her on that stage.
For some, it might seem as if a place like Hopkins is a bump in the road, just a place to pass through on your way from here to there. Let me tell you what I see on the roads that lead me home.
We get some beautiful sunrises and sunsets. There’s enough rolling hills around us to get some great views, and I highly recommend a fall drive out here in a month or two. Stop and get coffee and a muffin at Piki’s. Tell them I sent you.
There are only a handful of houses on the dirt roads surrounding our town. Yes, your car might need a car wash, or remain perpetually dirty, but you’re sure to get a friendly wave from at least a few people when they drive by you. Many a night my husband and I settle in on our back porch, no sounds but from birds and insects, and the busyness of the world feels miles away. It is miles away.
As you can imagine, the local churches in Hopkins are small. In a 2017 interview with Krista Tippett for “On Being,” the late Eugene Peterson was asked what advice he had to offer on picking a church.
Mr. Peterson: When I was a pastor of a congregation, people would leave and say, “How do I pick a church?” My usual answer was go to the closest church where you live, and the smallest. And if after six months it’s just not working, go to the next smallest.
Ms. Tippett: OK, so what is it about small rather than big?
Mr. Peterson: Because you have to deal with people as they are. And you’ve got to learn how to love them when they’re not loveable.
The same is true about a small town. It’s pretty hard to hide here, and a lot of families have been here for generations, so even harder. There’s a lot of “learning how to love one another,” and in doing so, something good develops in us too.
These days, when I go to “the city,” it’s Grand Rapids or Kalamazoo. I also like to go to the lakeshore towns as often as I can. But Hopkins is home – no stoplight and no traffic jams (unless you count the lineup of cars after the Friday night high school football game).
—————
Traci Rhoades is a faith writer who advocates for an integrated life rooted in Christ. Her family of three loves living near the beach towns of Lake Michigan.
