I had the honor of attending the meeting dinner for the Roosevelt County Electric Co-op. James won first place for second graders in the coloring contest and we were invited.
We started off by signing in and claiming our raffle ticket to the door prizes, something that, sadly, was of no further use to us.
A very traditional High Plains spread was laid out in a buffet and then we proceeded to find places in the main ballroom. Some of you may be wondering what exactly is a traditional High Plains meal. Sadly, light cuisine is not one of our qualities as a community. The fare was heavy on starch (which I am trying to be cautious of) with chicken fried steak and white gravy. It is the food of a working family, substance to stick to you during long hours of heavy work. Folks here still have living memories of the Dust Bowl and hardship, of homesteaders and boom towns. For the generations who settled here, a hearty appetite was a requirement.
The dining room was almost surreal. So many people that looked alike. Tall, weathered men with faint tan lines across their brows sat next to bright eyed women who were quick to speak and quicker to laugh. They are all working people with calouses on their hands, muscles worn from the hard work that still moves the community.
They all look alike. Why, why do they all look alike? Because in our community, they are our everything. Across was a "neighbor", meaning closer than five miles. Down the table was one of our teachers. Across the room was members of our church. Sunday school teachers and babysitters. Linemen and dairymen.
All of the people that make up our day to day lives. Sadly, I can't name you the Supreme Court, but I could name some of the Co-op board because they are part of my daily life.
We enjoyed the dinner, heavy fare in all. Looking down the table, the light struck the ever present tea glasses and they all glowed. It looked as if the tables were lit by hundreds of amber candles.
Then, as you will find only in the heart of America, we bowed our heads in public prayer. We asked the Lord to bless our food and send the rains. We asked God to bless our fire fighters that we were so grateful for, and to continue to steer us in our daily efforts. The flag was brought in and we, as a group, stood for the presenting of the colors and the Pledge of Allegiance. No one protested, and if none participated, they weren't chided.
My children were so well behaved, models of manners and patience. It was a long dinner, with many honorable mentions and speeches. The poster winners were called and James proudly stood, and then stood on his chair when he realized no one could see him. He was proud to claim his certificate and T-shirt. No other honor was needed.
I realized as we left, a flood of well fed citizens, I must look familiar, too.
The Ridiculous:
On Sunday, I had the honor of spending almost twenty dollars on Easter baskets being auctioned by our Missions Committee. It was a silent auction. I had bid on a gardening basket. I lost. Then why did I write out a check and walk to my car with seven baskets? Because my children all know how to write their names. Never, ever explain how a silent auction works to children.
And how was your day?
