By Madeline Lau
After days of mysterious rain, and more than one flash flood warning, I awoke this morning to sunshine bursting through my window, and the promise of excitement in Joseph. See, any time the sun is really out, so is every last person in town, soaking up the rays, doing yard work, walking dogs, chasing babies—it’s a community that comes alive when the thermometer starts to climb. I pulled on my new cowboy boots and started down the dusty country road that takes me smack dab into town, headed toward the café where I get my morning coffee and dose of local gossip.
The big news today was the return of cowboy Doug, who had been away for several weeks acting alternately as a private security guard and vagabond Romeo visiting lady friends in Arizona. Doug, with his moustache and occasional cowboy cravat, had been much missed around our breakfast table, since he’s really the only one who can put cantankerous Stormy in his place. Stormy, you may remember from a previous column, is a beloved thorn in everyone’s sides, who recites terrible poetry at the drop of a hat and tucks himself in behind the breakfast table like a toad settling on a lily pad. As Stormy and Doug began their daily squabble I noticed a small brown head poking sneakily through the double doors to the kitchen.
The cowboys and I exchanged wary glances as we realized the toughest partner of them all was about to be set loose on all of us: Amy, the daughter of the café owners, had come to breakfast, pink flip flops and all, and was taking no prisoners. She settled into all of us, digging through my purse and beating on poor old Doug, before I was able to come to my senses and pick her up feet first to go down to the park. Amy, as scary as she can be, is only five, and loves to play in the sunshine, so we were off and had a pleasant afternoon playing “grandmother and granddaughter” wherein she was the elder among us and we made a pinecone pie.
After I dropped off a visibly calmer Wild Amy, I skipped on down the road, waving at folks watering their yards and planning the rest of my weekend. I had to stop at least twice to pet friendly dogs and look for wild animals on the roadside, but when I made it home I poured myself a big honking glass of lemonade and went to flop in the yard.
There’s something about the pace of Joseph that just can’t be found anywhere else, and all the residents here know it. It’s a regular point of discussion, how most folks living here can’t stand driving in cities or hardly frequent stores where they don’t know you by name. My own wonderful roommate, a Joseph native, works at such a store and regularly comes home to tell me “I saw someone I haven’t seen in 50 years! Literally! But we caught up like it was just yesterday!” It’s a truly special place.
On that note, I was perturbed by a recent article on Joseph in a famous national magazine many people read. The writer started his diatribe by stating that he “didn’t expect much from Joseph” and that was his first major mistake. We may be small, we may be in the middle of nowhere, quite literally at the end of the road, but this town has heart and joy like I’ve hardly ever seen anywhere, and whether the sun is shining or not folks soldier on in pursuit of the grand ol’ American happiness they feel they deserve. Shouldn’t it be like that everywhere?
– Madeline Lau grew up in Stayton, graduated from Scio High, and has been keeping Our Town readers entertained with adventures and discoveries since she was just a tad bit older than Wild Amy. Well, maybe a tiny bit more than a tad.
