Where I live . . .
You can buy your eggs (fresh from the chicken) at the Post Office
Your fried chicken (really the best around) from the gas station
And drop off your dry cleaning at the Court House . . . Or the bank . . .
Where I live . . .
Until recently . . .
There were no stop lights . . .
Only one blinking light in the whole county . . .
Then we got a temporary light during some bridge work . . .
It’s so unusual, that a deputy sheriff actually had to tell someone yesterday . . .
Yes, it’s a stop light.
When it’s red, it means you have to stop.
Where I live . . .
A one-finger salute by a motorist is not an insult . . .
It’s a friendly, laconic wave to passers-by . . .
Where I live . . .
The trees are turning color . . .
The fawns too . . .
Where I live . . .
Candidates for Sheriff come together to help out and judge the cooking contest . . .
And raise money for the local Food Bank . . .
And everybody (well, almost) wins a ribbon at the fair . . .
Where I live . . .
People work hard, many just to get by . . .
Enemies as well as friends help out those in need . . .
Firefighters and Rescue Squad folk are volunteers . . .
And when you’re sick . . .
Or dying . . .
Or your house is burning down . . .
You know the people carrying you . . .
Calling out your name . . .
Saving you and all you value . . .
I suspect it’s much the same where you live . . .
Except, maybe, for the eggs . . . and the fried chicken . . . and the dry cleaning . . .
