Reflections

This week as I walked away from the polling place, I was caught with yet another wave of nostalgia. Perhaps that's just the way of us 50+ year olds. We're past the mid-point and more prone to reflection.

This time I was hit with early memories of voting in Ruston. Everyone went to town hall on Winnifred Street. Mrs. Prettyman was in the office (or Verna) to say hello. Marilyn Pudlo, Etta Garrison and Norma Doucette greeted us when we went through the door every year. We saw our neighbors. We said hello to familiar faces. The whispered huddles would gather on the lawn out front to discuss who was running against whom. It was a warm connection despite sometimes contentious local races.

It was a celebration of our citizenship that we don't get with an envelope, one more community-building tool that we have lost. I still occasionally see a neighbor when I vote now, but its not the same going to an unfamiliar place with so many strangers. And we soon lose even that privilege.

I am thankful I started in Ruston when I did, to have personally walked through so many of our transitions. The subtle nuances of these changes will be lost as time and memory fade, but they build the foundation of who we are today. I hope we will hold our heritage dear, that we savor and protect that foundation.

Such are the reflections of an aging lady who, despite being thankful for who we are today, will occasionally long for days long ago.