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From Our R eaders
People ask me why I chose to retire here in Hartington and it’s an interesting question.
Does it come from a curiosity, almost an insecurity, what does this town have to offer? Does the question come from a desire to understand, with all my options, why choose to stay here? The question is deeper for me and takes some words to probe to the bottom. Jokingly, I shrug off the question with the simple answer, “I know where the light switches are.”
Counting where I grew up about an hour south of here in Colfax County and where I went to high school, Elkhorn Mount Michael…I’ve lived in 12 different locations.
I’ve lived in very small towns and I’ve Lived in the nation’s capitol. DC was crime ridden when I was there from 76 to 81. I used to make sure I arrived at the seminary in the daytime; it wasn’t safe to unload your stuff at night. So, you might say, I’ve been around the block.
So, the question remains: why did I stay in Hartington? Last Friday encapsulates the answer. No longer the pastor and able to sit back and observe, I saw much goodness to celebrate at our annual Candlelight shindig.
I walked the streets and saw many people I know and have come to love and enjoy. Even those who I do not know greeted me with familiarity—it’s what happens when you’ve been a public person. I feel a rapport with all those that call this place their home; remember I’m a small town boy, too. In my more mischievous days, I loved to start rumors and see how long before they came back to me. We from small towns learned about fake news long before it was a phrase in politics.
But back to last Friday, many came out to volunteer and work the Candlelight event, to participate and provide a smile, all because—this is your home, your town.
I called names and colors at the Candyland game painted brightly on the main street; I especially enjoyed it because I knew lots of the kids.
I had my soup, ate some chocolates, smelled the popcorn, enjoyed a free drink from a merchant renting space at the restored Hotel and I watched the parade. I was not able to get to every store and open place—wish I could have. And, you never know what you are going to see driving down the avenue.
One of the parade vehicles, a cross between a flatbed and a truck dashboard, was a mystery. A motor home stripped of its home—reminds me of the Cadillac transformed into an El Camino I saw in Fremont. But I am waiting for the one of our plumbers to come up with the exploding toilet showering everyone with sprinkles of water. (probably a better idea for a summer parade) What does it mean to feel you are at home? It’s the people who do not give up. A few months back there was consternation about the Chamber’s life…but it came together once again and I want to thank the leaders and merchants who made it happen. And I’m glad I could help.
We are not heaven—life is not perfect—sometimes things happen in a small town that make you scratch your head. The power does not always reside in the elected but mysteriously in the fabric of those who live here but don’t hold office.
The Common Good has a way of rising to the surface and that is one thing good about this place we have come to call home. And sometimes even a kid can raise an issue at the meeting and it ends up changing how we handle an issue. Small towns quite often allow for the singular voice to rise above the fray and be heard—and acted on, even if its about chickens.
I hope we never lose that openness to new ideas. Just, my take on things. All of it is a confirmation that I do know where the light switches are.
So, Hartington, keep the lights powered up so periodically, we can turn them on.
— Fr. Owen Korte Hartington
