K has taken to saying that I would love living in a small town (I think she said that I pretend that I actually live in one) , and while I did look for jobs at one point in rural Vermont I've always liked the big city going-ons. Anyway, here are three recent examples of why she just might be right.
1. I went to a local chili cook-off in a church basement and had a smile on my face the whole time. Even when I was eating the really bad, overcooked varieties. I talked to the local newspaper reporter about the experience at the chowfest and discussed rating methods with the elderly couple that I was sitting with.
2. When the train into Chicago was delayed because of "severe switch problems" K and I decided to drive into the city. I made the suggestion that we should ask strangers if they would like a ride with us. One guy took us up on the suggestion. Nothing like looking out for neighbors, I suppose.
3. Speaking of neighbors, today on my jog I began talking to sixty-year old guy about running and whatnot and ended up eating lunch with him later. Turns out he ran cross-country and was a sniper for the IRA when he was a teenager, moved to the States, earned a couple of master's and now teaches remediation classes at night at the local high school. Who would have thought?
