For two years, our little town has planned the mother
of all weekends. It began as a commemoration of 200
years since the Lewis and Clark expedition went past
the place where our town later was established. Then
two big shows were planned, then we decided to have
a concert, which ended up featuring one of the top touring
groups in the country, Lonestar. Throw in movies in the park,
a playground full of inflatables, (not what you think, these were
for kids) car show, tractor show, Sunday afternoon in the park,
community choir, and on and on and on.
The weekend was an emotional one for me, we had invested
so much time, and planning and we pretty much had all of
our eggs in one basket. Enough activities for our little town,
for any 2 year period, squeezed into 3 days. Did I mention
about 4 hours of sleep each of the 4 nights involved?
We had friends and family visitors to the area from all parts
of the United States, any one of which would have been the
highlight of the summer.
Regrets would be that we couldn't be good hosts to the very
important friends and family who were here. They were, and
will always be the most important part of our lives.
Things I'll never forget, trying to hold back tears while the cowboy
poet recited the Man from Snowy River, and verses about
our old school. The poems didn't get to me, it was his command
of the audiences feelings and their breathing that had me in awe
of his talents. Also the pride I felt for our town. The nay-sayers had
said it would be a flop. And then sitting in front of Lonestar, and
when the stage lights suddenly swung our direction and up the hill
like a big set of aircraft landing lights to unveil an awesome sight.
Wall to wall people, as far up the hill as you could see. Everyone
waving their arms and yelling and screaming for more.
Tuesday morning, I couldn't even think what it was that I did for a
living. Tuesday afternoon I took a two hour nap. I went to town to
find that the streets were nearly empty of people, once more. There
aren't porta-potties on every corner. The grass is getting a bit long
in everybody's lawn, and they don't care. I remember now that I was
trucking corn to Blair when this began. So I guess I'll go thru the motions
until I can get interested in work again.
Lewis and Clark have mercifully gone up the river from here. There's
been some talk of a picnic for them on their return in a year or so,
but most of us are hoping they just float by in the middle of the night.