I had to go to the post office, then the middle school, then the print shop. These errands were connected by various events in my personal and community life. The coupons we promised the garden tour survey respondents had to be mailed out, the certificates of appreciation for work done on Stewart Park needed to be mailed and delivered, my son needed to be registered for 8th grade at the middle school, and I had to pick up the door hangers for a block party I was helping to organize.
But as I rode my way toward these separate destinations, pedaling down Main Street, there, I saw Julie and Brinsley had at last opened their photography gallery and studio in the Cottage Grove Hotel, and thought about stopping by. But first things, first. I rode on toward the post office.
I passed Rally, Cottage Grove's Coffee Connesieurs. They are new in town, but their coffee is freshly roasted and their drinks are devine. We hope they are successful here in our little town, where we already have 3 other privately owned drive-thru coffee houses.
While at the post office, I was there when there was basically no line - just 2 people in front of me. One of the happiest sights in my day is if there is no line at the post office. If we lived in the big city, we could never expect that. But here it happens often enough to hope for.
Just past the post office and across the bike path is the Public Works department. I had a few certificates to leave with them so I rode on over. No one was at the front desk so I left Melissa a note and explained what I was doing.
Now, over to the middle school where the secretaries were harried but friendly. One had made sure my son had the schedule he wanted. The other took the time to tell me how great my youngest son's new teacher was, because she had known her since she was a little girl.
Riding back to the print shop, I found that Kurt had once again given us a big discount on our order and made our print job look better than we imagined.
Riding home past the church, there was the car of my friend who teaches the classics at the Ace Charter School, parked in the lot. Another school year has begun.
Across the street at the library, look! There is another friend's car! I'll stop and go in and look for her. I was astonished when I didn't find her inside, but took the opportunity to get a book on horses for my son who is just learning to ride.
Outside, while I loaded my bike basket with books and other loot from my trip, a man on a bike pulled up behind me. A joke he said. Would I like to hear a joke? He told me two, and to tell you the truth, I didn't think either of them was funny. But that wasn't the point.
The point is that in GroveAtopia, you aren't scared when a stranger pedals up to you and tells you a joke. You don't worry if they are crazy and going to hurt you. They might be crazy, but they definitely will not hurt you. Chances are they are just being friendly.
That's because in GroveAtopia it's people that count. You carry their stories in your head as you pass through town. The house over there that has recently been painted. Your friend knows who lives there and why they are now suddenly able to fix the place up.
The house on the corner of N and Main is an absolute mess, yet you know the man who lives there and he will be building your cabinets. The American Legion Hall sure has a lovely new mural painted on its side. It may be a bit heavy on the flag, but it looks so much better than it did, no one minds.
These are the thoughts you have and the people that go with them as you ride through town. Someone once said to me, our town doesn't look like much, unless you know the people who live there.
I have to agree. After living in GroveAtopia as long as I have, I can no longer separate the two. The people are our town. Without them and their stories, GroveAtopia is just another place. Those of you who pass through looking for what our town is may very well miss it. You will merely see buildings and businesses.
What GroveAtopians see is people, their stories and their lives..
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