Skip to main content

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.  

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

When Pink is just another Color

Just  over a week ago, Waves of Hope hosted an awareness day. We called it "A Day of Hope and Education". It was decided in October that Waves of Hope would get behind a researcher at Brandon University. Dr. Majumder is working on early detection of breast cancer, through a simple blood test. She is also researching to predict treatment outcomes for triple negative breast cancer. TNBC is extremely aggressive and has few treatment options. Her work is to lower the resistance of the cells and make them more responsive to treatment. She is also working on developing treatment options that are not so toxic, but still just as effective when treating breast cancer.  Her dream is to find a cure for cancer.  Little did we know in October what April was going to bring.  It has been an absolute honor to spend time with Dr. Majumder and her husband who I call her wingman. Sujit is her lab manager and so much more. They are two of the most caring and wonderful people I know. The...

Cancerversary

A C ancerversary is a definition that was created by Bestie which means a celebration to honor breast cancer survivorship.  It all began two years ago when I suggested that we should celebrate with a trip for what was going to be her 10-year mark of survivorship. She could pick whatever she wanted to do, and I would do it. We attempted to make plans, some as simple as a weekend in Winnipeg and some more elaborate like a cruise down the St. Lawerence. For one reason or another, we couldn't make anything happen. Life stepped in our way and said, "you aren't going anywhere", and we didn't for two years. Then out of the blue  I got a text from Bestie that said, "do you want to go on a Rhine River Cruise?". This was it; she had picked how we would celebrate and I was in. Yep, we planned what would be the biggest trip of our lives in a few minutes by text. That was nearly a year ago. There is considerable planning that goes into a trip like this. Our roles wer...

A Day after Remembrance Day

This year I decided I would attend the Remembrance Day service in my former community. My sister is very involved in the service there, which is held at the Cenotaph. It was a simple, yet meaningful outside service that represented three communities. Mom at 91, was there wrapped in blankets and a guilt. We are not sure, but we think she has attended about 70 Remembrance Day services. She was one of three 90-year-old people at the cenotaph. Following the service, we went to the Legion for coffee and donuts. What a flashback to my childhood. We enjoyed a short program and then beef on a bun. As always, the Legion members made sure you were well taken care of.   In 1942 when Dad was 20, he left his home for the first time and joined the Army. He spent time in Quebec and then went to Dunderin for advanced training. From there he went overseas to Scotland and England, followed by Africa and Italy. His job was to truck fuel to the tanks. Growing up Dad didn't share many war stories,...