Community

Garage Sales

“How much do you want for the plant stand?” A lady was holding up the white wrought iron plant stand that had cradled my favorite old fern in the living room years ago. “Two dollars.” “Will you take one dollar?” “Sure.” “If I buy all of the games, will you take less?” A man with a beard and a baseball cap was pointing to the large box full of games that my boys had outgrown. “Okay.” Why not, it saved me the effort of unpacking the box. “Mom, does the coffee pot still work?” A young woman with a toddler wanted to know. That was 7:30 A. M.; the garage sale wasn’t supposed to start until 10:00 A. M. Even so, Mom and Dad’s yard was full of people, and more cars were pulling up to the curb. We were just starting to set things out; it already looked like…

Continue ReadingGarage Sales

Waving

From my air-conditioned car, I could see glistening beads of sweat run down the flagman’s face. As he took a swipe at them with one hand, he directed traffic through the construction zone with the other. His was not an easy job; I waved. He waved back and then he smiled. It was still a hot day, but maybe it helped to be appreciated. I also wave my appreciation when other drivers stop to allow me to pull into traffic. I wave from my yard to neighbors who pass by, even if we’ve never met. I like to wave to people. But, I am concerned that, over the past few years, the number of those of us who wave is diminishing. Are we becoming an endangered species? When I was growing up, waving was practically a national pastime. We waved to each other, friends and strangers, from our porches, our…

Continue ReadingWaving

Fair Time

I’ve only had it for two months and already it is dog-eared, highlighted, underlined, almost worn out. It is my Exhibitor Handbook for the Eastern Idaho State Fair. Each year, it arrives sometime between the middle of June and early July. By early August, I have studied and consulted it, daydreamed and made decisions over it, all of which helps me answer the question, “What shall I enter in the Fair this year?” Already, as I am packing my choice exhibits my excitement is growing. My eager anticipation will culminate in exuberant delight on opening day of the Fair—just like it always has. I love the Fair. I have always loved the Fair. My earliest memories of days and evenings spent at the Fair include eating hamburgers and cotton candy, “helping” my parents at the Chamber of Commerce booth, eating hamburgers and cotton candy, watching my uncle carry the flag…

Continue ReadingFair Time
Jam Session

Jam Session

“Give me your ‘A’, Paul.I scoot onto the wooden stool and shift the guitar strap over my neck. The banjo twangs once, twice, three times—the solemn bestowal of the “A.”Another “picker” comes down the basement stairs as I am tuning up. He’s holding a guitar case in one hand and a mandolin case in the other.“Hey, do you think Mike’s going to make it? Will we have some fiddlers? What about a bass?”As if on cue, others begin to arrive, some carrying as many as three instruments. I drag out more stools and armless chairs to accommodate new arrivals. Empty instrument cases begin to pile up in the corner like cast-off cocoons.Another “A” is passed around with the conversation, intermittent twangs, plinks, and plunks sneaking up on it until each instrument is pronounced “within hollerin’ distance.”Anticipation building with excitement, the melodic strains of “Wildwood Flower” begins to emerge from somewhere…

Continue ReadingJam Session