When we get together on Thursday nights with our neighbors (within a few square miles in the country), it’s obvious we have our own little community. One of our neighbors asked me once when one of them was sick, “What are we going to do about our family here?” That’s how she felt about our little group. I know those of a previous generation had this feeling about those on adjoining farms or in the neighborhood, but I had never experienced it in the country before. There is a feeling that we belong to something outside our immediate family.
This group began before we moved to the country, when one lady called the others and said, “Why don’t you bring what you are having for dinner, Erma and Chleo will bring theirs, Stan will bring his, and we’ll have it together at my house.” That’s been about 12 years ago, and it’s been going ever since. Whose chickens were caught by a possum (opossum never seemed right) the other night, how many do they have left, and how to trap that possum are some of the subjects discussed. Also there is some scoop on the other neighbors who are not present.
There is lots of laughter. Our hostess is funnier telling the story than the story itself. She tells about routine daily activities as if it is an adventure. With her and her sister, it often is! There is nothing like these little country neighborhoods to give us a solid perspective on the rest of the world as it hurries by.