That’s one of the things I enjoy about living in smaller communities, they always make such a big to-do about little things.
Fifty years ago today, on the first Monday in September, in a small town in Nebraska a bubbling, bright-eyed, joyful young boy was born. Then some guy grabbed me by the ankles and slapped me on the butt just to see if he could piss me off.
The last 50 years have been more-or-less a repeat of those first few minutes of life.
However, Monday as I drove into town to spend my 50th birthday building pages for the weekly edition of the St. John News, I noticed there was a holiday atmosphere to the town. With the exception of myself, healthcare/emergency workers, and a few folks at Dillon’s most people were taking the day off, almost no one was out laboring away in the fine fall-like day.
Matter-of-fact, over the weekend I had to go to McPherson for a short trip, and even then I noticed the unseasonably nice temperatures had drawn groups of people out for barbecues and family gatherings in the small towns I passed through.
The whole weekend preceding my birthday had taken on a kind of holiday atmosphere.
But I was truly moved when I drove into town this morning and saw the post office, government offices, businesses and the schools all closed on my birthday.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying a day away from laboring and spending a little time with their family and friends.
While I still have to work today to get out the next edition, I do appreciate everyone in the town, nay in the county it seems, taking a day off from their labors to celebrate my 50th birthday.
You can thank me for it later.
