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Taking things for Granted


I have been gone from my home community for 20 years, so when I return, I am always reminded of what a strong and supportive community it is. Everyone greets me like I never left, and it makes me feel so warm and fuzzy. 

I recently visited my old community, to attend a funeral. The church in that community was built in 1967 and remains in great shape. You know you are in a church when you sit on strong wooden pews, there is a choir loft, sturdy pulpit and of course the big cross right at the front. It was a beautiful church when it was built and remains so. The only real change is that the regal bright red carpet has been replaced. 

As I drove up to the church, I saw the old firetruck and the new firetruck gleaming. They were ready to take the longtime volunteer Fire Chief to his final resting place at the cemetery. Off to the side were the volunteer fire fighters, they were all dressed in matching black shirts embossed with the fire fighter insignia. Once I was seated in the church, I was reminded of the man whose life we were celebrating that day. He was a quiet man with very little to say, yet he had the respect of everyone who knew him. I believe it was because he had such a strong work ethic and was always willing to help anyone. The front of the church represented him so well, his retired gear as the Fire Chief was on display along with lovely bouquets of flowers and a wonderful picture of him. The Celebration of Life was perfect and so suiting for a man that had given so many years volunteering for the community, town and especially the fire department. It was sad to know his final ride in the old firetruck was being made. He would be smiling that big smile of his knowing his son and grandson were riding with him in the front of the truck. The firefighters either stood on the back of the old firetruck or sat on top of the new one to make the journey to the cemetery. It was about a 4-mile trip; the horrible wind and dust had to make it unpleasant. Not one of them would ever consider complaining, that is what you do to show the respect to a man that would have done it for them. A great man was honored in the way he deserved to be remembered. May he rest easy after his long struggle with cancer. 

I always have said, "no one puts on a better funeral lunch than my hometown". The egg salad and salmon sandwiches were just like I remembered. The women didn't just bring a 9X13 cake they brought slabs of cake. The usual chocolate cake with caramel icing was what I was looking for. At the end of the food table my coffee was poured for me, that is how they do it. Everyone knows their job and does it well. The women would wash every dish by hand, and the room would be cleaner when they left than when they arrived. 

Something that is really rocking in that community is "Rosie's Farm Stand" It is smaller than most closets, but it is thriving. The owner of the greenhouse has set it up on her property and it is run on the honor system. It is open from 6am to 10pm. Community people share their food and talent. It is incredible what is there. It is impossible to list the items in this small space. Right now, there are fresh garden vegetables from a Hutterite Colony, eggs, of course chokecherry jam and syrup, cookies, loaves, fresh cut flowers, you name it, you will find it. If you need a gift, you can choose between a candle, Jewlery, birdhouses, and a large array of other items. The Facebook page is continuously keeping everyone updated on when certain items are arriving. I assume there is a lineup when the "Cinnamon Buns" are due to arrive. I love this idea and for the community they support it in their usual manner, wholeheartedly. 

When you live in a small community you take it for granted that the firetrucks will be clean and ready to go. The funeral lunch will show up and be served. The local food stand will let you know when your favorites are there. Small communities are the simply the best in my mind. They take it for granted that it will happen, because it always does.  

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