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Northwest Salmon

 

Editorial

In need of new choir members

by John Suhr
surhs@reporterandfarmer.com


For the past 20 plus years I have been attending a Memorial Day address or service. If not in Webster, one of the other communities we serve or some other location I may have been at the time.

They are powerful messages presented at these events and can have an impact on a person’s life. What many do not realize is that much more than the message, it is the sacrifice.

The sacrifices that the men and women not only sitting in the front row, but all around the location that the message is being presented. Names are read or shown on a screen. These are the names of men and women who have served their country with pride and are not here that day to listen to the impact the message has on those around them.

Whether you or anyone in your family has ever served your country or not, there is no reason not to attend. Even if you say you do not know anyone who has gone to battle for the freedoms we and so many people around the world have, because of their sacrifice. Don’t wonder any longer if you are missing something other than an hour or so out of your long weekend. Become a member of the choir showing your support for our fallen soldiers. Attend a Memorial Day service near you.

You may even be surprised at who has served their country. Become a choir member praising our men and women who have served and continue to serve. A choir member honoring the fallen who made the ultimate sacrifice. Remebering those who served and are no longer with us today.

Memorial Day is much more than a three day weekend. It is more than a day to fire up the grill and barbecue. It is a day of remembrance. It is a day we should be singing praises to those who are still with us and fought for our freedoms we to often take for granted.

In this week’s paper there is a list of services going on around the county. Attend a service. Listen to the impact our brave men and women have given.

You may be surprised, especially in a small community, who has served or has a member of their family that has or is serving.

 


Columns

Rumor mills will end when you

cease circulation

by Amanda Fanger
reporter@reporterandfarmer.com


“Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.”

Those are the words of the late Eleanor Roosevelt, on the topic of rumors. She seemed to capture within that quote the very essence of what so many face, sometimes on a day-to-day basis.

Rumor mills can run amuck anywhere, but I’m convinced that rumors and small towns are nearly synonymous. My question is: do they have to be?

There has been more than once when I’ve heard someone describe how terrible they think rumors are and in the next breath turn around and begin talking about some of the latest gossip they’ve heard about so and so. I’m sure you can relate.

It’s easy for us to sit and say we hate rumors, but quite another to willingly exempt ourselves from partaking in gossip.

Rumors can be demoralizing to the people they are about and have the potential to wreck lives, especially in a small community. I’ve seen it happen a few times.

The best thing to do when you’re caught up in a rumor mill (I say when, not if, because it will happen sooner or later) is to walk tall with your head held high; do your best to live in a way that when someone hears a rumor about you they won’t believe it because it doesn’t fall into line with the nature of your character.

However, if you are the victim of a rumor, it does not in any way, shape or form give you the right to spread additional rumors just to get back at any parties involved in spreading rumors about you. If you’re spreading a rumor because it makes you feel better about yourself, that, too, speaks to the level of your character.

Rumors are part of an ugly, nasty game that you don’t and shouldn’t want to be part of.
Each time you chose not to spread a rumor, a little piece of the monster dies. If enough people get on board with this concept, rumors will go extinct.
~af~

 

 

A stroke of ingenuity

by Emre K. Erku
sports@reporterandfarmer.com



Similar to many of Day County’s heart and soul – those bearded faces; those hard working grunts competing with one another to see who the hardest working grunt is – he’s in agriculture.

For decades, I gathered from him last week near the laundry room of my luxurious Bristol apartment, he’d spend his working hours tending all the waves of cropland I see on my morning drives to work; knuckles like mountains over the tractor steering wheel every day.
Some may call him a roughneck. However, to yours truly, he is the very foundation of true American grit that nowadays is seldomly emulated by high society. He is blood, sweat and tears.

Even more so after he unveiled to me his current state of affairs. His situation, which would strike the fear of God into the Devil himself, personifies human will and perseverance.
A couple years back this grizzly neighbor of mine suffered a stroke. That’s right; only in his early 60s and the poor guy is handed one of life’s many atrocities. (Many a sleepless night I ponder my own demise.)

If you calculate the costs of treating a stroke on a farmhand’s salary and benefits, you better believe it doesn’t look too feasible. But, for him, a stroke of communal ingenuity played the ole boy’s cards just right.

Of the 12 or so of his colleagues, they all decided to pool in a certain percentage of every one of their paychecks to finance abrupt healthcare situations like his – let’s say $10 or $20 every payday.

From this, instead of basically being $20,000 in the hole dug from some high interest loan, this ole boy was able to receive the treatment necessary to get him back on his feet... literally.

This office pool got him down to Sioux Falls. This office pool got him all kinds of therapy. It got him nice nurses (he still keeps their signatures in a logbook). It got him sustenance and hope, and it got him walking again. He even told me he was being cared for by a nurse who wore a wig because she was personally undergoing chemotherapy treatment due to breast cancer. And when it was nice out, he told me, she’d wheel him down to the river, almost like a hot date.

And just like that, he recovered. Fortunately, she did too.

Before we stopped talking, he showed me her picture, and he told me he sometimes glances at his logbook, full of all the nurses’ signatures, before he goes to work early in another brisk South Dakota morning.



“Ray”

Fiksdal Funeral Home

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