Another great (and awful, depending how you look at it) thing about living in a small town is getting to know everyone in town. One woman in town that I always admired was an older woman named Clara. Clara and her sister lived in what used to be Goodfield's schoolhouse (now it is turned into 2 apartments). They were devout Christian ladies who were the epitome of hospitality. They were always baking pies and rolls for people and businesses in town (however, since they grew up in the depression they didn't use enough sugar!). Clara took a walk every day and, from what I could tell, was in pristine shape until the very end. She had so much energy; maybe it was the walking, the baking, or the constant gardening. I guarantee she had more energy at 80 than I do now.
My favorite thing that Clara did was pick flowers from her (or a neighbors... love knows no property laws) garden, put them in a lovely vintage vase and place them on the door step of the Baptist Church I attended. Sometimes she would add a poem she had written and typed out (on a typewriter folks!). Now this may not seem that powerful and moving, but the church she attended has the reputation of not fraternizing with others; even other Churches. The fact that she did this seemingly small act all summer still makes me smile.
I was so saddened to hear of Clara's death when it happened; I had always planned on writing her to tell her what an inspiration she was to me... but I never got around to it. So she will never know what an impact she had on me, but I can only hope to pass on her story through actions, and when necessary, words.
