Lately I have been trying to imagine what it’s like to live in Truro. Really, I have no idea. Although I have been next door, in Provincetown, going on 60 years and have certainly visited Truro innumerable times, the reality of life there is beyond my ken.
What I do know is a bit confusing. And I must always refer to my hometown. To start, Truro is geographically complicated. Provincetown is quite simply laid out — with a West End, center of town, and an East End — although it is admittedly a bit contorted, and the East End gets a little squishy up by Mayflower Heights.
Truro has Beach Point (which really feels like it’s in Provincetown), North Truro, and Truro Center, and there is even rumored to be a South Truro — but who knows where one ends and the next begins?
Here are a few of the immediately apparent differences between Truro and Provincetown: First: physical size. I think Ted Turner has ranches bigger than Provincetown. Truro is bigger — twice as large in area (21 versus 10 square miles). Large parts of both towns are subsumed by the Cape Cod National Seashore.
Second: population. Truro has far fewer people (especially in the off-season). Take these two factors in consideration and the real density disparity is apparent (Truro’s 51 versus Provincetown’s 377 people per square mile). This difference underlies a lot — but not all — of the differences between the two towns.
Third: economy. Provincetown is loaded with commerce: shops, restaurants, galleries, bars, tattoo parlors, and more. There are some businesses in Truro (many on Beach Point), and a couple of good restaurants, but people mainly just live there and mainly just in the summer. Provincetown loses people in the winter, too, but relatively fewer.
Another difference: topography. Provincetown is a sliver of sand — the harborfront town, the woodlands and vegetated wetlands behind it, all against a backdrop of towering dunes. Truro has its beaches and a little harbor but also miles of rolling hills and woodland as well. There were plenty of farms in historical Truro, while Provincetown had only the occasional large garden.
The overall vibe between the two towns is so different. Provincetown is where the hordes (including Truro-ites) go for amusement; Truro is known for its peace and quiet. It is not “a going-out town,” says Sophie Yingling. Sal Del Deo calls Truro “paradise.” Terry Kahn likens it to “comfort food.” Truro is happy to be overlooked, determined to keep a low profile. Wikipedia calls it a “summer vacation community,” as if that defines the whole town. It does not, but it comes close.
I was trying to figure out how to capture the differences in living in the two towns when my neighbor informed me that my newly installed outdoor light, which is motion-sensitive, was shining into his bedroom window in the middle of the night when the raccoons paraded by. I reflected on the fact that I instantly know the distinctive sound of another neighbor’s muffler. We live, as an old townie once said, “on top of each other.” It is dense. Even waterfront homes in Provincetown are cheek-by-jowl, so that you know not only how your neighbor takes her coffee but how she votes.
The thing about Truro is you are not apt to have a neighbor, at least not one close enough to hear or see or smell. There is the joy of living down some beautiful country lane (Old County Road, or Long Nook Road, or Pond Road come to mind) on a one- or two-acre lot where you can be isolated from the rest of the world, sitting on your deck in the piney woods. Sheer bliss.
On the other hand, this isolation can lead to insularity, which tends to foster entitlement. Everybody in Truro is a self-appointed expert on local affairs, which makes the town somewhat ungovernable. This splendid isolation also diminishes the sense of community, which Provincetown provides with a simple walk through town. Truro has no town to walk through, and even cycling is a challenge. But some people in Truro do try to overcome this, congregating at the transfer station, the post offices, the library, the COA, Puma Park, or the package store. And, of course, at the town beaches, which Provincetown does not have.
I suppose it might be correct to say that the two towns together provide a complete human experience; some people tend to prefer one over the other, but many of us take the best each has to offer. Still, serenity can be difficult to achieve in frenzied Provincetown. Community and connectedness can be a challenge in Truro.
Many years ago, cartoonist Howie Schneider was relaxing on his harborside Provincetown deck with the Sunday New York Times when a complete stranger leaned over the partition from the adjoining deck and asked if he was done with the Arts and Entertainment section. He promptly moved to Truro.
