A Death in the Community

I live in a small town...more of a village, really. Situated on a curve with a little bit of town on each edge. To anyone passing through, they might be inclined to continue passing through without another thought.

But those of us who live here and have been members of families that have lived here for generations, it's much more than just a small collection of old buildings with empty insides...

it's home.

And so, while attending our town Ruritan meeting, when we received the news that a majority of the county school board saw fit to close our little town's only school, it swept through the room with an audible gasp.

A death had occurred in the community. And we all felt its impact immediately.

Many of us in the room had given a great deal of our energies, love, and loyalty in keeping that little school alive and thriving...really thriving. Most all of us in attendance had either once attended or had kids, grandkids, and even great-grandkids attend that little school.

There's always been a lot of love and community in that little building. All those who entered understood that hard work was expected--it is the backbone of this community. 

And the students did indeed learn the value of hard work...they became many of the best in their classes.

And now tonight we all sit in our homes,a little numb, a little defeated, a little angry for our kids, our school and its workers, and for our little town itself. 

Our county tends to swallow up out little  community...we've lost our bank to the bigger bank in the county; we've all but lost our post office to the bigger one in the county...and now we're being told our school has one more year of life before it, too, is taken from our town.

Where does it end?

Fortunately for our little town, it is loved by many of us, much like a beloved old pet...it may not be the most beautiful or robust place in its outward appearance, but the heart that is collectively beating underneath is strong. We will keep working hard because that's what we do...we will figure out a way to keep the little school alive in some manner as we work diligently to keep our little town alive. Not an easy task, but worth it.

We know that we are on borrowed time as a community if we have many more deaths of places where we collectively gather in our town...let us gather together in our churches, in our community clubs, and keep our spirits alive...

because it's just plain worth it.

The Largess of the Tiny

A day off from teaching and taking classes normally finds me, weather permitting, on the deck out back with a cup or three of coffee. This morning was one of those perfect pre-fall days--breezy enough to use it as an excuse to bring a blanket out along to snuggle in an over-sized lawnchair while reading, writing, and watching the aerial antics of the beloved hummingbirds.
Small creatures, they bring a largess of enjoyment.
I look up at the feeder periodically to see two quietly sitting; instantaneously, the duo rises to three, four, five, six...as many as twelve, darting and shifting, snatching a few seconds at the small bars to have a sip of nectar. Pairs entwine themselves in a circular flight up in the air, and then dramatically dive back down to recover from the tailspin at the last possible second. Others start a pattern of flying in a large "u" shape repeatedly, twittering each time they reach the upper peaks of the formation.
One small female in particular flies over within a foot of me periodically and hovers for a bit; I acknowledge her presence with a hello. I have a feeling she's drawn to my "comforter of many of colors" as much as she is my personality. Nevertheless, she returns much as a small child does having a ball gaining recognition from an adult, running back and forth and happily anticipating that next hello.
As I sit on the deck, I hear in the immediate background the familiar sounds of a combine, a tractor, and a grain cart being shuffled about in preparation to open a field for harvest. There's a slight sense of resignation that accompanies these sounds; I know that harvest means fall, and though a wondrous time of the year in southern Indiana, it marks the beginning of some endings--among them the realization sometime in the near future when I am sitting on the deck with no company of these tiny marvelous birds. They'll be on that mind-boggling flight across great bodies of water to a warmer clime. 
But that's not today; no, today they are fascinating. So, like these tiny creatures that bring with them a largess of joy, living for the moment of that next pirouette or sip of lovely nectar, I'm going to live in the moment and not miss out on any opportunities or discoveries today has to offer.
I hope you will enjoy the day, too.


Have a fine day indeed.