I love the familiarity of living in a small town.
I love that our doctors and nurses here know my health history, because they’ve lived it along with me, and that if I’m having an urgent problem, someone makes time to see me – even if there isn’t technically an appointment open.
And that sometimes when I get to the post office too late to grab a package from the window, if Jim sees me come in, he’ll scan the package and walk it out to the lobby for me.
I love that Kate at the café knows I like my turkey-bacon melts on whole-wheat even if I fail to mention it, and that Missy at Subway knows all my family members’ usual orders by heart, because I sometimes forget the details.
Or that even if Olsen Hardware is closed, sometimes it magically reopens when you really need something.
These are examples of a thousand small kindnesses that make me grateful for the opportunity to live in a community of such fantastic and caring people.
Last Christmas was another such example when I received a one-of-a-kind gift from my boss and his wife – a custom wood charcuterie serving board with my food column’s logo engraved in it – especially when I found out how they managed to procure such an item.
My boss described a multistep process that started with a local physician who moonlights as a phenomenal woodworker, and who handcrafted the heavy heirloom piece. One of my fellow Banner publishers with mad graphic design skills was able to re-create the logo in the resolution needed by a teacher at the high school, who had the tools necessary to do the logo engraving, before handing the board back to the physician for the finish work.
I’m grateful to all involved, and the board is an amazing display piece – whether I’m serving meats and cheeses, or just serving up bowls of this soup for my family.
As they say, it takes a village to make a charcuterie board.
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