Dearest Grandest Kids,
Today we participated in our small-town-festivity. It is the Annual Fall Pheasant Hunt Lunch/Dinner that Elmo Daughters of the Utah Pioneers do to raise money for their Camp. (They don’t go camping, that is what each group is called–a camp, you know, like the pioneers.) Well, I have never been before until this year. I always thought it was just for pheasant hunters. I actually think it is supposed to be just for the hunters, because they ran out of food at 4:00. But anyway, we met Sam there for lunch and had a cheese burger and a cream soda. Lots of town people were there. It was so warm outside that we sat on the benches they had set up and ate our burgers. As we left, I said, “That was such a fun, small-town thing to do.” Grandpa said, “Yeah, next time I want a hamburger with sweet pickles on it, I’ll come back.”
But don’t pay attention to his grumpiness. It was fun. I think someone should open the DUP Building as a burger and pie place all the time. I love small-town things like this, and like honking at chickens or peacocks to get out of the road or following a herd of cows with the cowboys and their dogs guiding them out of the way, and everyone in town knowing what your problems are and concerned about how you are doing.
Wish you were here with me in our small town!
Love you all!
Grandma Dottie, Small Town Girl (from the Big City)