"Why is the town having an 80th anniversary celebration?"

This a question from a reporter in our neighboring community, as related to us yesterday by the police chief.

"How do you explain to someone that this is more a family reunion, mixed in with a whole bunch of school reunions, than a simple anniversary?" he asked us.

In the end, he told the hapless reporter to simply get in her car and drive the six miles out here to find out.

To be honest, I feel a little cheated by this celebration. I remember the 65th anniversary celebration, when we were still new to this town. It was such a warm feeling to be here, a part of all this. We were there for just about every activity. Now, 15 years later, I realize we are still new to this town. Really only knowing a handful of people here. All around us, under the white tent pavillions set up in the town's main park, others are having the reunion of their lives. People who grew up and worked here when this was a company town, and everybody knew everybody else, and all their business. When everyone worked for the same employer, just different shifts, or different parts of the plant.

Somehow, we don't really fit in. We're still observers looking in from the outside. And like another family of new arrivals (from my home town, his father retired from the same employer as mine), only 17 years in town, we left the party early after the drawing for prizes. Leaving so many others to while away the evening visiting under those tents.

Of course, the town's more of a suburb, now. Probably as many vehicles heading out of town to jobs in the nearby city every morning as there are workers coming in from the city to work at the refinery that is two-thirds of our town.

Generations of people lived here, sharing lives, joys and pains, in those 80 years.

The woman next door grew up in our house. In her life's journey of getting married, having a career in the sheriff's office, and raising... what, three children?... she has managed to move all the great distance of... across the driveway.

And there are many others like her in town.

In a population that census put at ~480 people, they had over 800 pre-registered guests for this anniversary shindig.

That's a lot of kinfolk coming home, wandering around to see the changes. The brand new streets and sidewalks. (Mayor confided to us over coffee and donuts that arranging this celebration was a bigger chore than rebuilding the mainstreet. A woman passing by commented that she hadn't seen him out there laboring on the street, so that's no great surprise.) The baptists in the town's historic landmark hotel. The sunny streets that used to be lined with deep, shady cottonwoods that so many have come of age and been removed. With no replacement trees planted, we are so sad to see.

But it was a big celebration, for a town so small. It started early in the morning, at the town office. Working down the line of red-hatted ladies (the second from the left we learned came from Edinbrough). Just like the registration line at elections, with pretty much the same people.

Followed by coffee and donuts. Passing by the small sign for the town's members in the armed services.

Nine of them. One of whom I've mentioned, who we've known literally since the day he was born. I was surprised at a couple others who I had not known took that avenue in life.

"You don't hear much about them, anymore," the town's previous mayor said as he stopped with us at the sign.

Which, I suppose, is a really good thing. Because the only news that is likely to make much noise, will be bad.

Then that afternoon, the town picnic.

Catered by our local, nationally famous Mexican restaurant. And while they said the picnic was from 12:30 until three o'clock, we found the caterers were only there until two. Much to the chagrin of eldest son, who opted for a late shower before following us to the park.

We offered him the scraps I'd saved for the heelers, but he declined.

At least one of the old classic cars from yesterday's show, which we missed, was hanging around.

I was surprised at the number of little kids playing in the sand park. As many as there were 15 years ago, when that is where our boys were. 'Course, a lot of those were probably grandchildren and great-grandchildren just visiting, but there have been a lot more youngsters running around town this summer. Lots of bike traffic.

Which is a good thing.

'Course, being an 80th celebration, there were plenty of these around, too.

The post-feast activities began small, with a short presentation by the local twirling group...

who were more than a little overwhelmed by having the entire crowd of hundreds of people suddenly move in to surround them. They were doing great practicing beforehand by themselves.

Then the new chief of police moved his fancy new SUV into the middle of the blocked off street (immediately south of the caboose...)

Using the loud PA system of his enforcement vehicle, he began to announce the time for the prize drawings. Only to have a train come noisily blasting past at 65 mph on the nearby (<100 meters) transcontinental railroad.

Now locals, in our community and in the one six miles down the track, all know there is no point in even trying to maintain a conversation when a train is passing. You all learn to automatically pause mid-sentence when the train gets too loud, and then resume your sentence unbroken when the train is past. Do this myself regularly in my hunter safety classes taught at the old depot, not ten meters from the same tracks.

But the chief, like some kind of rookie, keeps on talking. Even though nobody heard a word for 30 seconds or more.

Asked him afterward, how long he's been here. In our state, 15-some years. But in town, next to the tracks, only three.

He'll learn.

(This was during our third or fourth conversation of the day with him. Not the first, where we commented on seeing a town police officer going around changing trash bags in the pavillion barrels. And asking if that falls under the "other duties as assigned" clause of their job. (And yes, it does.))

So, promptly at three, the mayor and his assistant came over to the new cop car, and the drawings began. By my best count, 200-some of us standing around, mostly in the shade, waiting to see if we had the right ticket.

We didn't.

Would have liked either of the two prints they held up until the end. Both by a local artist, both of local features in town.

So, with 800-some registered, and only 200 present to win, there were a lot of unanswered numbers called out. Mayor took to pulling two at a time, holding the second as a reserve.

One six-pack of Dr Pepper and a hand cooler from the local bar (we only have one) had to have winning tickets pulled six times. After five failed numbers, the chief pleaded to the crowd "It's not diet!"

With so many tickets to draw, what are the odds of the local Mary Kay representative being drawn when her own donation is on the block?

Pretty small, but it happened. She, of course, asked them to draw again. And then went home with nothing. (Her son, however, won a choice of red or blue ballcaps. Picking the red, a son of a postal worker in the crowd shouted "Who would want a red hat?" Looking directly at the boy's father. In his red ballcap.)

Following the drawings for "park prizes", most went back to visiting under the tents. Those with younger children gravitated to the east side of the caboose, where a pinata was hanging in a tree.

Took a bunch of swings for the really small crowd to bust open that sombrero. The older crew made short work of their burro.

All action we missed, since the police chief was giving us a personal tour of his new prize possession. Purchased used from a sheriff's office in Utah, his new SUV (which we said is about time to buy, the old cars not being very practical in our town in the winter) came equipped with every law enforcement gadget available. He was disappointed I had already noticed the red and blue lights in the grill, but was impressed I knew what wig-wags were.

Never seen the flashing blue lights inside the taillight assemblies before, though. And we now have a vehicle with a dash camera (actually on the passenger seat, so it can monitor anybody in the cage as well), so watch for us on television in the next few years. He pointed out the video recording system will also play videos, so when the cop is staring down at the screen. he may be watching the next hit from Blockbuster, rather than recording your crimes.

This conversation had started, however, with me chiding him about the town number he'd put on this vehicle.

01.

Not "1", mind you, but "01". I asked him if he had great plans of expansion that the town was not aware of.

He hadn't even thought about. Since the police force has a vehicle "99", the car they park around town with a cardboard dummy cop in it (really), "01" just seemed natural.

Then we left him to supervise the "other duties as assigned", and headed home. A short stroll past the town's twin cannons...

and our dry fountain.

And that was perhaps the greatest disappointment of all. Besides not having activities in the old historic hotel (the baptists had a sign directing visitors to the town office), 15 years ago they set up a temporary rig to get water flowing through the fountain. A rare event, but I was hoping it wouldn't be a once-in-a-lifetime one.

Perhaps at the 90th anniversary. By then, I suspect we will be involved in the planning and running of things. And it is likely we'll be the ones welcoming children and perhaps grandchildren back to town. Staying out on the front yard visiting 'til well after dark like our neighbors.

And may we please have no need of a hero map.