There’s so much to learn from our rural neighbors.
Driving through our beautiful valley at the base of Mt. Adams, when passing another car heading the opposite direction, you wave. Not a big wave. Not a royal wave. Not a political candidate wave. Not a red carpet wave. Just a subtle wave. Hands on the steering wheel, one or two fingers lift in greeting in a small gesture that says whether I know you or not, I see you, and you see me.
We need more of that in this country.
The snow is here. There’s a least three feet on the ground and it’s not showing any signs of letting up soon. Because we live on a private road the county doesn’t plow us out. Nor should they. They have more than enough work on too small a budget just keeping the roads we all depend on clear so that people can get to work, kids can get to school, and life can keep going. That means that we are dependent on the help of others to take care of our road. And they do. Whenever it snows we can count on our neighbor George. He just shows up and plows for as long as the snow lasts, and then we settle up at the end of the season. But today, after giving it a valiant effort, he told us that the snow was just too much for his equipment. As it turns out, shortly thereafter he was at our little General Store to warm up with a cup of coffee where he ran into Casey, another neighbor. George asked Casey if he could take care of our road today. Fifteen minutes later Casey showed up on his commercial grader and got er done.
We need more of that in this country.
Driving into town the other day we passed Keith. A local rancher, he and his family raise cattle, grow alfalfa and sell timber. On this particular day as we drove through their ranch, the sun hadn’t come up yet. It was cold and dark and the cattle needed feeding. And there he was, unloading bales of hay onto the ground for the waiting cattle, steam rising from their breath in the cold morning air. Staying inside for another cup of coffee or waiting till tomorrow when the weather might be a little better wasn’t an option. When you’re a rancher, it’s up to you. And because it’s up to you, you just do it, and then get up the next day, and do it again.
We need more of that in this country.
We moved here from the big city fifteen years ago, and it’s safe to say that we cast our votes differently than the majority of our rural neighbors. The lens we look through is probably quite different than theirs. After the 2016 presidential election we were heartbroken and scared for reasons that made sense to us. After the 2020 one, my guess is that many of our neighbors experienced those same feelings for reasons that made sense to them. And yet. We all find ways to come together. We help each other out, cheer for our high school basketball team, lay side-by-side on cots in the school auditorium as we give blood at the annual Red Cross blood drive, show up with our families at the annual Father’s Day Rodeo, and fly our flags for a country we all love, and are all worried about.
We need more of that in this country.
