One of the reasons I so adore living here is seeing—again and again—how people find ways to band together. This week, I wrote my second Mash Note to Paradise for the Hilltown Families blog about the bike paths—and what I didn’t say in describing my adoration for the trails was this: without so many committed people, the rail trails would be overgrown rails, still.
If you don’t live in my town, you might not quite appreciate the collective sadness being experienced by the news that our locally owned, independently run—and for that reason, happily quirky—video store (yes, DVD’s, but it remains the video store, one that continues to offer videos) is closing. Many opine that stores like Pleasant Street Video—or for that matter Blockbuster—will be, historically, short-lived. To those who relied upon that store—people like us—it’s sad as can be, not just for the lending library aspect of the wares but also the way it’s a particular friendly, often amusing stop.
Everyone has institutions like that they are especially sad to see go.
In this case, people are banding together to keep the collection of videos and DVD’s intact by raising necessary funds to donate the whole stock to the Forbes Library. It’s the old lemonade from lemons idea. I’m in. Click here if you want to be, too (you do not have to live here).
On the micro-level, how sweet was it to get a call from a neighbor with broken lawnmower and a cold and be able—within five minutes—to get a younger (14) neighbor there with lawnmower and no cold to mow her lawn. She felt helped. He was momentarily employed. Win-win.
That same helping-a-friend thing happened for me on Friday when I finally decided the sty that wasn’t healing required professional attention and was squeezed into the eye doctor’s schedule. He gave the eyelid in miserable question a steroid injection (my husband’s lame tease, “Barry Bonds” all night long) and an antibiotic, more medicine than I’ve taken in a very long time. Grateful doesn’t begin to describe the relief I felt.
My eye isn’t miraculously entirely healed and discomfort—over a week’s worth—is pretty wearing. The three year-old is still not going to sleep easily and the dear bookselling spouse is going off tomorrow for a week. Am I completely panicked? Oh, that I am.
I did sleep eight hours last night. I think we file that under, small victory.