RBC | It wasn’t until I saw Hester-Jane Cogswell’s life in the pictures spread out on the dining room table in her Fawn Creek ranch house Saturday that the loss hit me.
“When are you moving back to reality?” a relative asked years ago. The long distances between towns, the lack of diversity, and the lack of various commercial concerns that most of us depend upon were only a few of the things that led her to consider her reality more valuable than mine.
For some of us, the thrill of spotting the first wildflowers each summer never goes away. Newcomers are always surprised by our reaction to that good ol’ green stuff — plants, not money.
Living here long enough to officially be called an “old-timer,” yet not long enough to know everybody who was born and raised here, I feel bad when I overlook someone who made a difference in the community, in individual’s lives.
Bailouts — one more reason for living in a small town. It is not government subsidies that are the subject of one more conversation, it is the small town neighborliness of merchants, who tell the customers who need a little loose change help, “Oh, don’t worry about it, just bring it by later.”
Two weeks ago, the signs of spring were all around us.
If you have to precede a statement with, “I probably shouldn’t tell you …” then you are right, and should be quiet immediately.
“I home,” a 2-year-old remarked recently when she discovered the babysitter’s house had her favorite toy.
What would you do if you were attacked by a rabid animal? Think about it, as apparently the United States has one of the highest rates of rabid animal attacks on humans.
You would think after 40 years of teaching, a retired teacher would have the good sense to stay out of the schools. All the germs and unruly children, you know. One of my all-time favorite fellow teachers, Claire R. Burke didn’t think much of the traditional retirement plan. She moved back here to her hometown […]
“Somebody said” has been the start of many untrue stories and gossip in this community since the late 1870s. Reading the local oral histories and talking with history buffs about the different rumors plaguing the White River Valley from the earliest days of settlement, I am struck by the effectiveness of the gossip mill.