That old hymnal

In one of my previous posts, I mentioned the Avery United Methodist Church.
This is the church my late mother grew up in. We averaged maybe 19 people a week when we regularly attended in my childhood. Mom taught Sunday School at the church for many years, including many as a child herself, teaching those younger than she was.
The Avery church has never really left my mind. I had another reminder of it come across me at work last week.
The church, like many others, had a revolving door of ministers. It was often a training ground for young ministers and a pasture on the way to retirement for others. One of the young pastors I'd known and formed a bond with came to my workplace the other day. Not to see me, but seeking a service my work provides.
I have begun to realize that, while life can throw these blasts from the past at you, it's nothing compared to the impact the music can have.
In addition to the sermon, each week at the Avery church, someone would choose the songs we would sing during the service. Though we had a rotation of leaders, and three hymnals to choose from, we most often would choose music from the same one. Quite often, we would choose songs that we all knew best.
Not every week, but I would say at least once a month, our small congregation would sing "Amazing Grace", "In the Garden", and "The Old Rugged Cross."
We never really followed recommendations from the United Methodist Church organization or any other outside leadership group. We chose songs that we knew, songs that we enjoyed and songs that we, even as small as our congregation was, could truly harmonize on and feel we were truly praising the Lord as best we could.
Of course, any joyful noise made to glorify God pleases Him, but there was always just something about singing songs we knew that made it that much better. To me, anyway.
As I grew older and learned how to play the trumpet, I was never really interested in playing the songs they taught us at school. I wanted to learn how to play these hymns that I'd been singing for years. There was a time I could play some of them pretty well.
Time marched on, and even though I left the Avery church, it and its music, has never left me. I can still sing every verse, word for word, of "In the Garden" and "Amazing Grace." I'm glad I can, because, much like my congregation of old, I believe these songs truly capture the message God wants us to remember. He's there for us, and it is only through His grace that we will be saved. I really don't know if we need three hymnals' worth of songs to get that message across.
My church today, when I am able to attend, often has songs predetermined by the United Methodist calendar. It makes me sad, to be honest, because I miss the songs I know and love. That, and I just don't know the lyrics and melodies of most of them. We don't sing any of them often enough for me to get to know them.
I am reassured each time I sing in the shower, or sing my wife to sleep, that there are things that are always going to be with me. God's grace and mercy will be, as will those tunes that remind me of that, as well as my old home.
Take care of yourself and thank you for reading.

Pleasantville Pig Out 2017

This past weekend, I had the honor and privilege of serving as a judge for the Pleasantville Pig Out's barbecue contest.

Pleasantville, Iowa, is the third-largest community in Marion County, and it is everything that a small town should be. There's little crime, good schools, a wonderful coffee house, a great restaurant and much more. For the many years that I've had the pleasure of visiting and getting to know the people of that community, there is no more appropriate name than Pleasantville.

The Pig Out was spearheaded by former Recreation Director Brandon Bingham, and his wife, Angel. That was seven years ago, and the two are still very much involved in the event. Neither will take much credit, and they certainly would not be able to have made the event what it is without the help of many others. In my opinion, I believe the Pig Out would be successful if they were unable to contribute, but it just wouldn't be the same. They do this while running a successful business, Bing Bang Media.

For each Pig Out, I have served as a barbecue contest judge. When I refer to this as an honor and a privilege, it's not an exaggeration. The ability of a community of around 1,700 to host many times that one weekend a year is remarkable.

The 2017 Pig Out welcomed 10 cookers participating in the barbecue contest. Each year, contestants submit entries in the categories of pork, ribs, beef, poultry and one dubbed "wild card." The wild card category has produced many interesting - and delicious - entries over the years, including cake and alligator meat. Even for standard barbecue categories, each of the others has produced creative - and again, delicious - entries.

Beyond the food, the Pig Out also includes a car show. I didn't count, but I believe there were around 150 classic and modern day automotive wonders, filling nearly every street around the town's square this year.

Those are just two of the main components of the event that contribute to the atmosphere of what a small-town festival should be. Every sense was touched by this year's event. The sunshine and warm temperatures were perfect. Along with the smell of the barbecue and the sight of the cars, the sounds of children playing could routinely be heard. Little League ballplayers constantly called out to peddle their bottles of water. All of them seemed to beam with just as much community pride as the adults of Pleasantville.

From my vantage point, looking out the window during our judging procedure, the line to the food was consistently full for nearly two hours. Saying it was a long line presents a connotation of negativity that didn't seem to exist. No one seemed unhappy, as they know that the barbecue is always worth the wait.

For me, a visit to Pleasantville - even when there is no barbecue involved - is always worth the trip.

Boyhood home still resonates

Avery. 
It is a tiny village six miles east of what many others would consider a tiny village known as Albia. I lived in Avery for about eight years of my childhood, but it is truly where I grew up. 
The simple boyhood privileges of whiling away the daylight traversing the sparsely-graveled roads on my bike created memories for me that have already seemed to have lasted a lifetime. There was literally only one paved road that ran through Avery, and all the further it went was to Albia. Pavement ended at a set of railroad tracks on the eastern outskirts of our town. 
I had the pleasure of growing up there from the late 1980s through the early 1990s. In those days, everyone at least knew who their neighbors were, even if they did not socialize together. You were able to use the names of every home's occupant as a point on the map. 
"Don't ride past Gene's house" would be an occasional request on particularly hot days. "You know where June lives? Those people live just a few houses down" was another to help someone who may be unfamiliar with the area. 
There was always the fear of strangers coming to town with bad intentions, but it just didn't happen. Even if it did, the people of Avery were so close-knit that if anyone looked out their front window and spotted some shenanigans, they were not afraid to come out and try to put a stop to it themselves. Or, at the very least, gather enough information to pass on to authorities. 

When we were kids, we never really wanted to spend much time outside. Home video game systems were slowly starting to develop a few years before we moved out, which reduced some of the time we spent outside. But for the most part, if we weren't riding bikes, we'd be looking for other chums in town to meet to put a baseball or football game together. 

Summers were meant for being outside, enjoying your freedom from school and homework. We had all school year to waste our days inside a stuffy classroom No one wanted to go in until we were told, and even then, we fought the requests as long and as hard as we could. 
Avery still exists, though the number of people who continue to be there - who were when I was a kid - continues to dwindle. It still has the charm, though my last few visits haven't seen kids riding their bikes. I can only pray that they continue to do so, and they haven't all been sucked in to video games and other indoor entertainment. 
Even if no kids continue to live in Avery, that does not change the fact that simple, small town life can be inspirational. It can help one develop a sense of, and an appreciation for community. I know it did with me. 
I believe that, in today's world, we need a greater sense of community to try to bring us back to some common ground and maintain us as the UNITED States of America. My goal with this blog will be to try to look at different things that go on in our world, and bring them back to how it will affect our small towns and families - both of which are basic building blocks of community. 
I hope you will join me on this journey and find what I share to be worthwhile. Take care of yourself and thank you for reading. 
An old friend who inspired me to try blogging