A grape time was had by all

Small towns began losing their swagger about a century ago.

Once easy travel and communications revealed their society and traditions to be not the center of the universe -- indeed, made it all too obvious that they appeared pathetic, laughable and parochial to so-called sophisticates in the large cities -- a crisis of confidence, over several decades, destroyed the unique character and enthusiasm of most small towns.

The "Lake Wobegons" of the nation either transformed themselves into bedroom satellites of large cities, or dwindled in importance economically while their aging residents watched their children leave, one by one, after high school graduation.

But please. Bear with me. I promise I'm depressing you for a reason. I'm happy to report that -- despite this conventional sociological description -- some small towns still flourish, and some are even reviving.

I've just returned from our family's annual gathering in Sonoma, where we helped celebrate the 110th annual Valley of the Moon Vintage Festival. As the name suggests, the festival marks the harvest of the year's grape crop, a critical event in the life of California's wine country. And the festival celebrates not only another year's bounty of the fruit of the vine, but also Sonoma's rich history dating back to Spanish times.

The city dates its origin from the founding of Mission San Francisco Solano -- the northernmost of the chain of Franciscan missions, starting with San Diego in the south -- in 1823. Even today, the center of town remains the original Spanish plaza, a large park surrounded by the restored Mission, the Spanish Presidio, and the house of General Vallejo -- not to mention a sizable number of cafés, bars, and souvenir, antique and gift shops. Sonoma also proudly claims to be the spot where the Bear Flag of the California Republic was first hoisted in revolt against Spanish rule.

But for me, more than the stomping of the grapes and the reveling in history, Sonoma is interesting as a small town that has kept its swagger. The wine tasting attracts not primarily wine snobs from San Francisco -- although they certainly do come -- but local citizens who know their wine and whose lives -- directly or indirectly -- depend on its excellence. This is a town where many local kids can describe the difference between a cabernet and a merlot, and are able to taste the difference, long before they can legally consume them.

The plaza is the site of what is, in effect, a lively town fair. Side by side with tasting booths run by local wineries, local organizations still unashamedly sell corn dogs and beer and cotton candy, local restaurants offer samples of local cooking, and the Boy Scouts give you the chance to win a locally produced salami by pelting one from a distance with a well-pitched potato.

Men and women entertain you by stomping grapes in their purple-stained bare feet.

The Sunday parade marches around the periphery of the plaza -- kids hidden beneath masses of purple or green balloons and thus disguised as bunches of grapes, local auto dealers circling in decorated new cars, the Wells Fargo stagecoach filled with kids and pulled by a fine team of horses, children dressed in Spanish colonial costume throwing cheap candy at other kids scrambling for goodies along the parade route, the Sonoma Valley High School marching band in full regalia (tiny ninth graders with tubas and bass horns marching alongside senior linebackers playing flutes) and followed by a farm tractor proudly blowing a diesel horn that drowns out the brave efforts of the band.

The entire multi-day festival is a wonderful chaos of events and crowds, and an anachronistic display of small-town self-confidence. Aside from the tourists, everyone knows each other and each other's kids. They shop at each other's shops, and eat and drink at each other's bars and eateries. In all the years I've attended, I've never seen any doubt expressed by a soul that -- for this weekend, at least -- there is no place on earth better deserving of everyone's presence. Not a hint that you could have a better time living it up in San Francisco, or watching a show on TV. For one weekend, Sonoma was the center of their universe.

Sonoma is a small town, but not a typical small town. But even so, it serves as a reminder of the high spirits, good nature, enthusiasm and pride that citizens of small towns across America once shared in abundance.