“Okay you crazy rooster. Today I looked forward to your crowing.” As usual, my live alarm was well and kicking. One thing is for sure, that Rooster knows how to keep time. It also seems to have a snooze function, because after its first series of crows, it will stop for a little while and then start back up. It’s kind of funny come to think of it.
Today’s Monday, July 4th—America’s Birthday. I had no real plans other than to do my usual, go to the store and grab some ribeye for breakfast. And to be honest, I vacillated with the idea of going fishing. “Wow! I can’t believe I felt that way today.” Really, I just wanted to relax at home. Regardless, after breakfast and doing some reading, I grabbed my fishing gear and headed out.
Either I genuinely wasn’t productive or didn’t put any real effort into fishing. “Hey, dummy, you ever consider the reason you weren’t productive is because you didn’t put any effort into it?” I kind of just felt indifferent about being out there today, so cut it short. “How dare you speak such blasphemy?”
“Huh! someone’s knocking at my door?”
“Hi T— how are you?” I said to my neighbor, who had come over to bring me a plate of food.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in joining us for a little 4th of July meal, so I brought you a plate just in case,” she said to me.
“You know, yeah I’ll join you guys. Thank you so much. I’ll just take this plate back to your house and eat it there,” I told her.
I walked into her house and there at the table was her husband C—, his sister along with T— and C— daughter. After the usual greetings and howdie dos, we got to talking about how much the bitterroot valley has changed. And by golly T— and C— have certainly seen the change. They grew up here and are well into their seventies. The kindest souls one could ask for in a neighbor.
“You know T— dad used to own the rainbow room, down in Hamilton, back in the day,” C— said to me. “Back then, sugar beets were grown up and down the valley.”
I looked and listened on in amazement, as I was learning a bit of history.
“The Mexicans used to come up and help work the fields,” he continued. “But, boy, every Friday night, that ole’ Rainbow room would be filled wall to wall with the workers spending their money on booze and cards. Well, this one night, three or four of them Mexicans walked in the front door and kept walking straight back, past the restrooms and out the backdoor. At the time nobody thought nothing of it, because, well, you figure they’re going back to the restrooms. Must’ve been about ten minutes or so, them Mexicans come walking back in, straight up to the bar and placed a bag of tools on the counter and asked T— dad if he’d be interested in buying some tools. Not wanting any trouble, T— dad said sure. He figured he’d do whatever to get them out of here without any problems. Well, damn if twenty minutes didn’t go by when T— dad noticed the tools he bought were his own. Them sumbitches stole his tools and sold them back to him”
The table erupted in laughter. That story alone was worth me spending time with my neighbors. Man, I’m going to miss them and the bitterroot.
Happy 4th of July all.
