More than a quarter century after Andy Griffith turned in his sheriff’s badge, another fictional small town entered the public consciousness– Cicily, Alaska, served up by the alarmingly fertile imaginations at work behind the scenes of the 1990s’ series “Northern Exposure.” In Cicily, a tiny and phenomenally remote dot on the map surrounded by spectacular scenery, an ex-con DJ spouted Proust and Nietzsche, the very young wife of a barkeep 40 years her senior could only sing rather than speak during several months of her pregnancy, the boyfriends of an extremely attractive (but inexplicably hostile) female pilot all died bizarre and premature deaths, and the citizenry as a whole would have to be considered at least half a bubble off plumb.

Now imagine what might happen if some celestial alchemist, in search of an afternoon’s amusement, decided to stir together (or perhaps even shake) the fundamental elements of Mayberry and Cicily…

The result could very well be Gold Beach, Oregon, the coastal village near which I live.

Nestled in the cozy embrace of fir and cedar forests and the glittering Pacific, its generously-estimated population of 2,000 souls vastly outnumbered by a myriad assortment of wildlife, Gold Beach is a peaceful hamlet that seems to exist in a time warp, circa 1958.

Houses go unlocked, car keys are left in the ignition, and the police department closes at 5 p.m.; it’s a place in which no one hesitates to start a conversation with a stranger, nor to offer help when it’s needed– and those who are ticketed for driving without first buckling up will find their names filling the police report published in the local weekly newspaper. Major crimes, of course, receive front-page headlines. These can and do include the memorable “Minor Stopped And Questioned For Possession Of Tobacco Product” and “Bear Cub Eludes Police In Supermarket Parking Lot”.

At the same time, it can be safely surmised that Gold Beach is a mental hospital without walls—long-term observation of the place can only confirm the initial impression, which is that everyone here is crazy, and nobody minds. The natural beauty of the area acts as a lure to those of creative mind and temperament, and when this factor is added to the presence of an already somewhat-peculiar population, there tends to be a noticeably enhanced degree of individualism in many of those one meets.

This is generally considered to be a good thing.

So, when a waitress announces she’s running for the presidency of the United States because she feels that the White House should be redecorated in an Egyptian motif, the townspeople gather to listen to her platform.

No one considers it odd that another of the town’s residents puts out a weekly newsletter explaining the reasons that aliens have decided this is the optimal place to land and set up their headquarters. Instead, people argue the question of whether or not the aliens have really thought this out, and if Port Orford, half an hour up the road might not be better suited to their purposes.

A local painter makes his practice to walk into restaurants, sit down, and begin singing; there’s no cause to object, as he has a pleasant voice and he takes requests.

A perhaps not-misplaced degree of respect is accorded the woman who, from time to time, walks around town in the pre-Vatican II habit of a Catholic nun. She isn’t a nun, and she isn’t Catholic, but the prevailing view is that at least she’s chosen a positive role model.

And so it goes.

Geographically removed from the rest of the world, with civilization and its discontents a distant, 3-hour drive across a magnificent but treacherous gorge, Gold Beach is not a place for people who need malls. It tends to attract those of independent mind and spirit, who like to do things their own way, without interference, and without the distractions inherent to more populous environs.

Artists, writers, composers, philosophers, and other creative, cerebrally-oriented individualists are drawn here by the unspoiled loveliness, the solitude, and the unimpeded freedom to be who they are.

It’s where one comes after thoroughly exploring the world, taking a good long look at the state that it’s in, and deciding to find the best possible location in which to escape from it.

It’s a great place to hide out from the third millennium.