Reflection

Sometimes when you least expect it you have a moment of reflection and maybe "realization".  I had one of those moments yesterday.  So forgive this long rambling post.

We attended a funeral yesterday for the father of my husband's best friend since elementary school. This kind gentleman was 91 and lived a life of simple pleasures. He loved to camp, play cards, learn new things, dig into genealogy and spend time with his family.  Ironically my reflection really was triggered by the church itself rather than the man.

This little country church sits in a very small town with a population of 37, so obviously the congregation is drawn from the farms and towns around it as well.  Over the decades we've been to a number of events there as it was only 6 miles from where we lived for 28 years.  It's such a lovely church - with 18 curved wooden pews sitting in a gentle arc facing a small stage with the pulpit and an organ. The hardwood floor creaked as people walked in to sit.  The windows are simple rectangles of clear glass with squares of stained glass above each and the sunlight streaming in yesterday was so pretty.  The minister has been with this congregation for more than 30 years. Such simple surroundings, but such a lovely service. 

Thus began my "a ha" moment and lots of reflection. The organist was my husband's high school band teacher - and also my youngest daughter's high school band teacher. I taught with him for several years. The soloist was a good friend who served on a local board with me for a dozen years in the 1980s and 90s.  The ladies serving the lunch and the guys who had shoveled the walk - most were familiar community members or former neighbors.  And all of them - like that church and the little town - are getting old.  Yikes! That means WE are also getting old. 

The aging - and disappearance - of small towns in the upper midwest is not unique to this region.  The young people mostly can't find work in these little towns because there are so few businesses.  And so they eventually move away, like my husband's friend and his brothers.  This once thriving little town no longer has a school but it has a church, a volunteer fire department and 2 actual businesses:  a gas station that also sells heating oil and propane and does repairs, and the general store which also sells livestock feed, and is also the post office.  The owner of the store was our neighbor, and I taught with his wife. They are both in their mid-70s and I found myself wondering what will happen to the store when they finally retire.  Will the gas station start selling milk and bread and also become a delivery point for the mail? 

It all made think.  How far do those volunteer firemen have to drive to get to the hall to get the trucks before going to fight a fire?  Who plows the snow on the only street in town?  The closest hospital is 40 miles away in either direction.  The kids in the area either go 15 miles east or 15 miles west to go to school.  The school in this town closed in the late 1960s.  Was that the real death blow to this town?  I certainly don't have the answer, but I've been watching the same thing happening in the slightly larger town we lived in 6 miles west.  And in countless other small towns in the area. 

It gave us a lot to talk about as we drove home.  I'm so glad we made the time to go, both to celebrate this man's life, but to also reconnect with so many people who've been a part of our lives.