Food For Thought...

 A few weeks ago I traveled to a little town in Central Utah for a ballroom dance recital. Because of when the event started, we did not get to have lunch before the event, so needless to say, when it was over around 4pm, I was starved.

Thankfully, a burger joint was right across the street.

As we waited for our order to be taken, I noticed a bulletin board with several thoughts attached to it. The caption atop the board said: Food for Thought...

Appropriate.

Also, since this was a small town, the thoughts on the board reflect many of the feelings and opinions you can find in a small town, namely, patriotic. I don't get out of the state much. I wonder what kind of "thoughts" would be on a bulletin board at a burger joint in New York City, or Ft Lauderdale, or Fairbanks. I think the fewer the people, the more you'll see the same type of clippings I saw.

Then again, I know I'm stereotyping. Not everyone's the same no matter where they live.

I should say the food was delicious. I can't say for sure if it was because we were hungry, or if the small town atmosphere had something to do with it.

I'd definitely eat there again.

Seen Any Chalk Art Lately...?

 Over the weekend, my wife and I checked out our local Farmer's Market. We live in a small town so the market is only set up the first Saturday of the summer months. A few days before the market, there was a community activity...

Chalk art. I loved it.

Maybe it's because one of the offerings featured a classic VW beetle.

The picture isn't that great, I admit, but the yellow bug seemed to capture the spirit of the classic car. I always wonder, when I see chalk art displays, what if it rains? Thankfully, we had clear skies from the time the chalk hit the concrete to when we walked around the square.

 In the town next to us where we used to live, they had a huge chalk art celebration every year. We only checked out the artwork a couple of times--not because we planned on it, but because we happened to drive by during the event. We enjoyed seeing the creativity and talent.

As with all art, some is better than others. I always appreciate the pictures that are not quite up to snuff. It shows that someone went out there, got down on the ground, took out their chalk, and created something that didn't before exist. Creating art exposes the artist. Sure, there's praise (especially from family and friends...), but they leave themselves open for ridicule and jokes, too. 

The offerings in our town this past weekend were sparse, but they were fun. When our kids were younger, we bought chalk art, but then we ended up throwing them out after years of neglect.

There's a story (or stories...) behind every piece of art. And even if some kids are just fooling around on the sidewalk in front of their home, the same can be said for chalk art as well.

Ah...Small Town Living

 I came across a post on social media a few weeks ago...something that caught my eye since I now live in a small town. It seemed the perfect title for that small town living.

"Does anyone know someone with a 3 legged dog? It was just found - I have details for the owner."

Classic!

I can just imagine someone sitting on their porch, or just inside and they see through the window a dog, but this is no ordinary dog...one of it's limbs is missing.

"Isn't that unusual," I can imagine they might say to themselves, or perhaps to another within earshot. "That's something you don't see everyday--a three-legged dog." So, they turn to social media to see if they can find the owner. Because the owner of a three-legged dog might be anxious to find said dog if said dog were missing.

Alsok, social media works exceptionally well for reuniting an owner of a missing three-legged dog and the three-legged dog itself.

I did not find out if the reunion took place, but I'd imagine it did. I mean, how could it not? 

For those of you following this blog, you know my family has relocated to Northern Utah, to a town of a few thousand. It's also known that we moved from a town that once was small, but is not bursting at the seams where thousands upon thousands now live. If you're thinking that this three-legged dog was spotted in the small town in which we now live...

You'd be wrong.

The dog was lost and found in the sprawling growing city where we once lived. Which, for me, made the story even more interesting.

Ah...small town living.

Look...A Horse!

 Last week I saw something out my window that, well...I had never seen before in a neighborhood in which I lived.

A horse and buggy leisurely passed by.

I saw a vehicle used for millennia as it first went up the hill. At first, I wasn't sure what it was--I had the blinds drawn. I sprang to my feet, threw up the blinds and snapped a quick picture as it almost escaped my view...the shot was not good enough for my "Pic Of The Day" have you, but interesting.

In our neighborhood anything that travels up the hill must come down, so I went back to work and waited--waited for the horse and buggy to travel down the hill. My patience paid off. This time I took a short video as it passed.

I'll bet seeing something like that was more common for my father as he grew up during the Great Depression in Montana and Idaho. He was born in 1924 and I don't know how many cars had made their way to that part of the world in that time, but I'm sure seeing someone behind the reigns of a one-horsepower vehicle was no big deal...certainly not worthy of a picture, or better yet, a blog post.

I've never seen a horse and buggy pass my house in the 55+ years I've been on this planet, and I may never see it again, but when I did see it last week, it was great.

Maybe A City Counsel Person Moved Into The Neighborhood...

 We live on a hill...a slight hill, but a hill nonetheless. We live among neighbors who have children. We have children, but our kids are older and they do not play outside, ride bikes, or run around in the yard or in the streets. I don't necessarily worry about my kids being hit by a speeding car/truck/motorcycle.

But, others worry.

I can definitely empathize with my neighbors--parents of small children. There's something about living on a hill that makes people operating cars/trucks/motorcycles go faster. I know gravity is involved, but there's something else...a need to get to the bottom of the hill quicker...something buried deep in our D.N.A.

I know this because for the past fifty years, I've lived on another hill...a steeper hill...a hill where drivers flew down the hill. So, how can those anxious parents feel better about the neighborhood in which they live? They can get the cops to put up a speed trap. Last week one popped up on our street.

My first thought?

Maybe a city counsel person lives up here.

That's cynical, I know, but in my last neighborhood I notice speed traps (and not temporary ones, but permanent ones...) set up in neighborhoods where the mayor lived or city counsel members lived. Of course, I'm sure here were other reasons those neighborhoods had the radar guns primed to catch the baddies. On the street where I lived, we didn't have as many people as those larger neighborhoods so that may be the reason--I don't know, but it always felt that way to me...where the leaders lived got the speed traps.

I don't think a city counsel member or a mayor lives by us. Since the speed trap near us is on wheels, it may disappear one of these days...I'm sure it will. And I'm sure those parents are grateful it's there and hopefully, it makes us all safer, which is the only point of having those things in the first place.

Who knows? Maybe one day the mayor may be our neighbor. We shall see.

Donations...Please

 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.