Written August 26, 2013.
On the surface, I just bought a few cool drinks at The Fremont Store and watched the Gladiolus Days Parade while my kids loaded up bags with candy. It was just typical summer stuff.
But The Fremont Store isn’t just any store. It’s the country store where my grandparents bought groceries when my mom was a little girl, and it still looks almost exactly the same as it did back then. And the parade wasn’t just any parade, because it’s is my hometown parade. It’s the parade I watched surrounded by my family on the curb; the parade where my mom and three of her grandkids were actually in the parade itself.
Those two events brought to mind the importance of a connection to community and family, and the phrase “the ties that bind” popped into my head.
Wondering where the phrase “ties that bind” came from, I headed to the internet. I found John Fawcett, a Baptist pastor in the 1700s, wrote a hymn titled “Blessed Be the Tie That Binds.” According to Wikipedia, he apparently wrote the hymn to commemorate a time in his own life, when instead of moving to take a higher paid position elsewhere, he chose to remain in the community already lived. Reading the lyrics of the hymn, Fawcett expressed more elegantly than I can some of the thoughts I had in my head.
I’m not going to reprint the whole hymn and make people’s eyes glaze over, but I will give you a snippet. To me, these lines exemplify what it is to be connected with others in the community:
Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one,
Our comforts and our cares.
We share each other’s woes,
Our mutual burdens bear;
And often for each other flows
The sympathizing tear.
Even though everyone has their own personalities, agendas, and political leanings, in so many ways we all want the same things. When things are good, we celebrate one another’s accomplishments, and when times are tough, the burden is shared by many. That is community.
The Fremont Store
I saw it in The Fremont Store last Friday. We really just pulled in to the store on a whim on our way to the Mississippi after after my daughter asked, “Can we stop at that really old store?” Since we hadn’t been there in a year, I altered my route to make the stop.
I snapped a picture of my kids on the porch front of the little country store, standing in their swimming suits ready for a day at the river. I told them my mom went to that store as a kid, and the store looks pretty much the same as when their grandma was a girl. Every time I go there, I can’t believe the store really exists. It feels like stepping back in time.
I let each of my kids pick out a cool drink from the cooler and then we paid. If you’ve been to the store, you know that means I pushed the button to open the cash drawer, and made the change myself.
Instead of moving along on our way, we talked for a few minutes to Martha Johnson. In no time flat, she made the family connection that Barbie Baer, who lives just down the road, is my aunt.
While standing there, my little daughter held up her fingers to show that she is two. I laughed in disbelief when Martha counted out her own age on her hands. I guessed 70-something, was impressed that she continued to 80, and then she finally stopped at 97. Wow.
I left the store with a cool drink and such a huge sense of awe about that woman who’s 97, still sharp and telling stories and running a quiet store in the country. She mentioned in passing, “People today say things are bad. They don’t know what they’re talking about.” If anyone can be an authority on knowing about good and bad, I’d say it’s a 97-year-old. That cool lady made my day. I need to stop in Fremont more often.
On Sunday the whole town of St. Charles looked alive and bustling as we headed into town to see the parade. Passing the fire station, we saw all the trucks lined up, sparkling clean and shining in the sun and decked out with gladiolus flowers. For some reason, seeing that sight just flooded me with a sense pride for the town. Knowing that the fire fighters in St. Charles are all volunteers made the sight all the more impressive. Trucks look immaculate in the parade, and more importantly, fires are put out, because people take time out of their busy lives to serve the community.
After watching the parade, I have to say the best part of the parade was seeing my mom dressed in character as Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother riding on the library float. Yes, I am entirely biased.
First of all, I’ve never seen my mom in a costume before. Ever. But just to do something different, when the library held a character costume contest, she decided to dress up. I headed up to her attic and unearthed my long-unused homecoming attendant crown for the cause. A great dress find in the clearance rack and some dollar store sparkles and fluff completed her costume. And lo and behold, my mom the librarian won the “13 and over” category for her costume, thus earning her a place on the library float for the parade.
Prior to this year, the last parade float she rode was in the 1950’s when she was an attendant for Lewiston Heartland Days. Yes, it’s been a while. My mom had a huge smile as she waved her magic wand to the parade crowd. Her favorite parts were all of the people spotting her and saying “Hi, Mary!” as she rode past, and seeing the sheer number of people along the entire parade route.
I also watched two nieces go by with their sports teams, and a nephew pounding the bass drum. There’s a comfortable familiarity in watching a parade that I marched in when I was in school, and seeing family doing the same.
After the parade my family headed to my mom’s house. There I noticed her Reader’s Digest magazine folded open to an article that caught my eye. The article described a study that questioned children’s knowledge of their family history. In the study, they found children who scored highest in resilency also knew the most facts about their families (such as where the grandparents grew up, or where the mom went to high school). They suggested that knowing those facts signified a strong connection with family, an inter-generational connectedness that helps children face the onslaught of life’s troubles. Knowing some history gives them a place in the world.
Reading that article just felt like a confirmation of what I already believed. The connections of family, and by extension, being connected to a community, give all of us a resilience to handle the trials of life.
Following that line of thought, it’s good to dress up like a fairy godmother and wave to friends in the local parade. And retelling “remember when Grandma dressed up” during subsequent years of Gladiolus Days will actually help make the grandkids more resillient in life. There really is magic in that fairy wand…it’s a tie that binds.