Hit with a haymaker

LIFE IN A NUTSHELL

by Terri Winder

It would most certainly have been a declaration of independence, had it been a permanent truth.  As it was, it was a curious announcement of sorts, placed on the back page of the San Juan Record (as though it were an afterthought when, in reality, the back page gets as much or more attention that the front page).  The title read, “Blanding has in with Rainmakers”.

Weather is usually the safest topic to discuss in any company, but the gauntlet has been thrown. I heard someone say that that statement could cause problems, and their comment reinforced an uneasy feeling I had when I read the quip.  For those who may not understand, I’ll explain: 

You see, there has been an ongoing enmity between Blanding and Monticello ever since the beginning of existence.  Anyone who has lived in the county is aware of it.  I think it started out as a family matter, since almost all of the pioneers who settled Bluff, Monticello, and Blanding were related. 

It was kind of a “My town’s better than your town, come join me” thing.  However, the roots of sibling rivalry run deep and everyone wanted to prove their independence. 

It got worse when the youth of the towns intermarried and were forced to choose up sides.  It’s a little more complicated than that, but I think that’s it in a nutshell.

Having a mother raised in Monticello, and a father raised in Blanding – and having lived in both communities – I love and appreciate what they each have to offer. 

Still I am neither ignorant of, nor immune to the whole rivalry thing – and an assertion that Blanding has an in with the rainmakers is a dangerous statement, indeed. 

What is more valuable in San Juan County than rain?  What do we collectively pray for more than rain?  How do we judge our righteousness as a community if not on rain? 

And it’s not “Rainmakers”, it’s The Rainmaker we give credit to, and, simply put, if we get rain it means He likes us.

Of course, I don’t want to rub anything in, but Blanding got a lot of love this past week.  Tuesday afternoon there was a matinee thunder and lightning and hail and rain storm that was worth watching.  It could have been entitled, “A River Runs Through It” as every storm drain choked back muddy water and wide pools formed across streets. 

It came just as school ended – one of the busiest times of day – and so it was no passing storm, but a memory maker.

No child was left behind; they all got home wet.  And after they got home, they changed into swimsuits – or not – and ran out into the swirling amalgamate, singing even as the birds do after a thunderstorm.

So, I don’t want to be prideful, but take that, you folks who missed out.  How is it spelled?  Neener, neener, neener?