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By MaryHelen Swanson
Sunday morning Dick and I had breakfast with the family. The breakfast was pancakes served up by the Rush City Lions. The family was members of our community, people we have come to love and appreciate over the past 39 years.
With each new greeting, I knew how precious these lovely people were to me. I looked at them closely, noticing how the years have left scars and impressions on those familiar faces. And I thought how wonderful that each year we are able to come together for this “reunion” of sort at the Rush City airport.
I was also a bit sad at the thought that one year we may come together for this event and one of us will be missing. Our hair is turning silver as the lining of the clouds from which those magnificent old planes descended. We’ve added a willow cane to our gear. There’s a limp in our walk and we vie for the handicapped parking spaces. We walk a little slower, even though the grandkids urge us on to look at one more marvelous thing. But we still smile and greet each other with enthusiasm. We ask about the year gone by and talk about plans for the summer ahead.
This is what small-town living is all about, my friends. Below you will read how one of my newest reporters discovered why I love to get out and about to all of our community events. Ah, another convert. Welcome her as you have welcomed me. And, by the way, it was good to see you at the reunion.
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