Why I blog

When I was growing up, we lived in a small farming community in rural Michigan. And we knew our neighbors. I might not have known every single person in town by name, but I knew most of 'em by sight, and everyone within 5 miles of our house was damn near family.

Actual bull balls. No, Really!

Say one of our neighbors came up and said, "Well, Mel, [My Dad], Ma went out to castrate that durn bull and got kicked in the head again."
My dad would then say something like, "Sorry to hear that Kyle. Wasn't the last time tryin' to inseminate the mule?"

Not the actual donkey or woman
mentioned in post.

Kyle, "Yep, 'cept it weren't a mule. It was a donkey. Cain't breed a mule. Durn shame that."

Dad, "So you need any help while she's laid up?"

Kyle, "Could use some help with the milking. Things gettin' piled up with Ma not able to cook, clean, wash clothes, milk the cows, feed the chickens, do the shopping and ironing, muck out the barn and such. You know, the usual woman's work."



Not actual Dad.
Picture added for
dramatic effect.
 

Dad, "Yep. Tell ya what. I'll send Steve around in the mornings before school, and if he don't get all ya need done, he can come back after his homework is done." (Education being very important to my father....)

Kyle, "Well thanks Mel. Right neighborly. Let me know if ya need a hand plowing that back forty come spring."

And so on and so forth......

You see, we were a Community. We knew each other's problems, accomplishments, idiosyncrousies.

We supported each other and actually Cared.
Something in short supply where POSSIBLY you nod your head to acknowledge your neighbors actual existence these days.

That's why I blog. I feel like a part of a community again. Wirecutter's getting his shoulder operated on, Hiswiserangel's Teen Queen is graduating high school, Bustednuckle's father passed recently, and I really get a kick as he talks about his hobby car. That he might get right. Someday. If he can get time away from work and fixing his sister in law's car....

And I care. I find myself reading of these accomplishments and trials in their lives and once again feel like my Dad's gonna come in the house and tell me to go to the neighbor's and help out. When I'm done with my morining chores, of course. And I'd best not be late for school. Even though it was five miles through knee deep snow, uphill both ways...

Thanks folks.