There is something precious about the American small town. Virtually every U.S. President was raised in, say, a Whittier or Plains. Jimmy Stewart's "It's a Wonderful Life" immortalized forever the small town on film. Main Street is America at its best - stoic, courteous, close to nature, and nice.

Get in a car and visit a heartland pleasantville. Life there is largely unchanged. People still frequent picnics, tend their lawns, and go to church. What is different are the stores. Too many are empty, boarded up, desolate, or gone.

As early as 1960, Hubert Humphrey foresaw the small town's conundrum. Campaigning for President, he noted how big firms were squeezing out the little merchant. His father was a local druggist. Humphrey saw the future, and it broke his heart.

Like Humphrey, I grew up in a small town, Caledonia, New York, pop. 2,188, once self-contained and sufficient. In the '60s, you could walk uptown and buy groceries, a bicycle, or the newest shirt. Stores were local, and business thrived. We bought from neighbors - who, like neighbors, earned our trust.

Then came the malls - wondrous oddities at the time. First, ten stores in a mall, then twenty, then fifty. Slow, incrementally, our habits changed, like a still river shedding ice. Instead of eating or buying uptown, we panted for the biggest mall. Too bad we forgot that bigger isn't better - needlessly, heedlessly, maiming the small town's soul.

One day, we looked out and said: What happened to the local appliance dealer, or friendly owner of that soda fountain? Answer: We killed them - as customers, seduced by malls' frills and one-stop shopping. It was so easy (for us) and so destructive (for our town). Wherever you live, it should break your heart.

Is the damage fatal? Not irreversibly. What can we do? What we should have done all along. Patronize your local businesses. Work with local officials to create businesses where now there are none. Repaint local storefronts. Show any community's greatest treasure - its capacity to care.

Dwight Eisenhower spoke of the "great and priceless" privilege of growing up in an American small town. Like the farmer, say, and the immigrant, the small town is central to the American character. Can we preserve it? We can, and must, for ourselves and our kids.

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