The Times They Are A'Changin'

I went home to visit my family on Sunday. My youngest brother and his wife were still there when I arrived (They come home nearly every weekend, but often leave to go back to their own home before I arrive.). When I walked through the door, they were engrossed in a large green book that has occupied a place on our bookshelf for as long as I can remember. Within it is contained a history of Meade County, in which my small ranch community is situated. I had forgotten that I would be home in time to attend a planning meeting. Red Owl, my hometown*, celebrates its 100th anniversary this year, and there will be a celebration.

After a nostalgic and informative romp through the green book, my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law, and I all headed for the Red Owl Hall.

The Hall, through most of my childhood, was the place where everything happened. Dances, basketball games, fund-raisers, funeral receptions, wedding receptions and potlucks galore found a gathering space in the Red Owl Hall. To me, it maintains a certain sentimental charm even though it is now mostly a place where bats reside. It has a hydrant much like those found in ranch corrals that provides cold water for the place. Otherwise, there are no modern amenities. There are no toilets, but there are outhouses to be found not far from the main building.

Upon our arrival, we discovered a number of other citizens already assembled. The meeting began soon after, and was an exercise in confusion. This was the first meeting, and no one knew quite where to begin. A date was tentatively set, though, and some initial plans for a parade were established. My Dad volunteered to create and MC a panel discussion detailing some of the history of the area. A woman just a few years older than I volunteered to create a slide show to play in a loop throughout the day. Another woman volunteered to create a Red Owl Calendar with photos of al the local families adorning it. The younger folks (my brother and his peers), much to the chagrin of the local teetotaler, offered to organize a dance. My mother and sister-in-law volunteered to provide decorations and to try to find sponsors for the event. Committees were established, a second meeting date set, and everyone got ready to leave. As we were departing the same woman who had volunteered to do the calendar suggested tee-shirts. I agreed and suggested that they be modeled after our old, now defunct, middle school basketball team. She thought that might be a good idea, but in retrospect, I wonder if I would be able to wear such a tee-shirt. Our mascot, of course, was an owl.

Would it be prudent, I wonder, to appear in a red shirt with white letters boldly announcing, "I was a Red Owl Hooter!"

Oh, the times they are a'changin'.

*Only in the broadest of senses can Red Owl be described as a town. Were it to have city limit signs, they would be back to back.