I ordered our lunches and because we didn't order ahead, I sat in a booth and waited. It's a local eating establishment, animals from past hunts looked down from elevated positions, letterman jackets and posters signed by local sports stars from days past adorned the walls.
It's as small town as small town can get.
It's beautiful, wonderful, humble.
As I waited, I noticed a donation jar on the counter. Underneath the picture of a man who looks like he lived life on his own terms asked for help on funeral costs after his passing. You can't see from the picture, the jar was not jammed with dollars and/or cents. Hopefully, it was recently emptied and set back on the table, but I don't know. And asking how the donations were going would seem insensitive at best.
I hope the donation jar helps. Of course, no amount of money, big or small, can replace the man who's black-and-white picture adorns the printed page, even if they raise all that's needed and more. I know that whoever went to the trouble of creating the monument would rather it not be there.
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