is that when you don't know what
you're doing, someone else does.”Unknown
I grew up in the city. It was nothing in comparison to the millions of Mexico City, but it was a city. It was a place where we knew only some of our neighbors, locked the doors each time we left the house, and relied on public transportation to get anywhere my mom wouldn’t drive us.
The day Mr. V announced that he had been offered his first teaching job in Warden, Washington was the day my dreams of urban bliss wistfully floated away into the ozone above. As you can imagine, I did not come willingly to the Basin.
I will never forget my introduction to rural life. Early one morning Mr. V informed me that we would be “changing water”. As a newlywed I still believed in my spouse’s perfection, so I willingly followed.
With the crowing of the rooster I donned on my irrigation boots and hopped into the old pickup truck. As the morning sky began to appear we drove down the gravel road, past the big haystack, to the bean field. With all the passion of a politician giving his first speech, Mr. V began to explain the intricate art of changing water.
“First, you pick up the siphon tube like this”, he said as he carefully demonstrated the procedure. “Now, put one end into the water just so… and with your mouth on the other end, suck in like you would a straw… really fast to get the water going…”
I never stopped to question his motives until I experienced the taste of ditch water which, in my mind, slightly resembled the flavor of stinky gym socks. As he fell to the ground shaking with laughter, I threw my boot at his head and swore I would NEVER live in a small town. That was almost twenty years ago.
Since then my ideas have changed. Over the years I have found that there are many benefits to country living. Where else could I write a check without showing ID, leave an IOU at the local gas station when I forget my wallet, and be informed of all news events without ever having to turn on the TV?
My kids have experienced the benefits of 4-H; play sports in an amazing city league with their uncle as coach; and will be able to name everyone in their graduating class. I am related to my church clergy and my doctor is our next door neighbor. Everyone waves as they drive by and I have never lacked fresh produce. It is safe to play outside, the air is clean, and you can see the stars at night. And in the evening I can sit on my front porch, and if I listen carefully I can hear the sound of workers singing in the field as they change water.
Yes, this is a nice place to live and we at the Rancho have no plans of leaving our small town anytime soon. After all, if I should wake up one morning to find that I can’t remember my name or anything going on in my life, all I have to do is ask the ladies down the road. They’ll fill me in on all the details.
The day Mr. V announced that he had been offered his first teaching job in Warden, Washington was the day my dreams of urban bliss wistfully floated away into the ozone above. As you can imagine, I did not come willingly to the Basin.
I will never forget my introduction to rural life. Early one morning Mr. V informed me that we would be “changing water”. As a newlywed I still believed in my spouse’s perfection, so I willingly followed.
With the crowing of the rooster I donned on my irrigation boots and hopped into the old pickup truck. As the morning sky began to appear we drove down the gravel road, past the big haystack, to the bean field. With all the passion of a politician giving his first speech, Mr. V began to explain the intricate art of changing water.
“First, you pick up the siphon tube like this”, he said as he carefully demonstrated the procedure. “Now, put one end into the water just so… and with your mouth on the other end, suck in like you would a straw… really fast to get the water going…”
I never stopped to question his motives until I experienced the taste of ditch water which, in my mind, slightly resembled the flavor of stinky gym socks. As he fell to the ground shaking with laughter, I threw my boot at his head and swore I would NEVER live in a small town. That was almost twenty years ago.
Since then my ideas have changed. Over the years I have found that there are many benefits to country living. Where else could I write a check without showing ID, leave an IOU at the local gas station when I forget my wallet, and be informed of all news events without ever having to turn on the TV?
My kids have experienced the benefits of 4-H; play sports in an amazing city league with their uncle as coach; and will be able to name everyone in their graduating class. I am related to my church clergy and my doctor is our next door neighbor. Everyone waves as they drive by and I have never lacked fresh produce. It is safe to play outside, the air is clean, and you can see the stars at night. And in the evening I can sit on my front porch, and if I listen carefully I can hear the sound of workers singing in the field as they change water.
Yes, this is a nice place to live and we at the Rancho have no plans of leaving our small town anytime soon. After all, if I should wake up one morning to find that I can’t remember my name or anything going on in my life, all I have to do is ask the ladies down the road. They’ll fill me in on all the details.
I grew up in a small town. No stoplight. Population 844. I graduated with 63 in my class. If our lives continue along the path that God has us on right now, our children will experience the same thing as we now live out in the country.
ReplyDeletelove this article!!! love you!!!
ReplyDeleteWell we are very happy you live in the small town of Othello. See you at fair.
ReplyDeleteThere are great things to a small town! You came close to convincing us... :)
ReplyDelete