Osterberg scowled at Swenson and replied, "Becuss efree day in Alekssandria iss like da Fort-uff-Yuly in Kensington."

The dynamics of population were such that, for Osterberg's purposes, Alexandria was a preferable community. This point is of such importance we shall refer to it as the Osterberg's Factor.

It is not uncommon to find boosters in small towns promoting growth and commercial forms of progress, without realizing they are endangering the peaceful, bucolic quality of life to be found there, often promoting growth for growth's sake without recognizing the relative nature of their invidious comparisons.

For example, a cultural oasis like the Twin Cities compares itself to Chicago and New York, and consequently always wants to be bigger and better. Cities like Duluth and St. Cloud want to be Minneapolis and St. Paul. Alexandria is working itself into a sweat to be another St. Cloud, and the more aggressive folds in Osakis, population 1,500, would like their town to become more Alexandrified.

But the Osterberg's Factor carries a warning. For every benefit conferred by the Fourth-of-July-quality of the busy city there is an equivalent disadvantage in the form of traffic, noise, glut, crime, pollution, etcetera.

Unfortunately, Alexandrification is seldom reversible. Once a town achieves a certain density of stop lights, fast food joints, and car lots, it becomes just another mile in the endless sprawl that is suburban America. The small town has its own character, based on demographics, history and tradition. After achieving strip mall status, its distinctive qualities tend to be molded of plastic and suggested by a public relations firm or planning commission.

It's time to recognize that small towns are an endangered species - and to try to preserve a bit of authentic Americana for those of us who love it.

The answer, of course, is to encourage the Ostergbergs of the world to move to cities that already have the dynamics they are seeking, and let the Kensingtons and Osakises retain their individuality.