The Cow Path or get out of my way!!!

 

Opening day for the box in 2006

Did I mention that a woman drove through my library box in the middle of the night? It was the first "get out of my way" moment this week. There was a big bang, and when I looked out my front window, books and puzzles were strewn down the road. The fire dept, police, and paramedics showed up. My dog about had apoplexy. Everything is now cleaned up, and we are in recovery mode. It was way too much excitement for a retirement community.

Debris from the box.

My beautiful husband with his library box.

Cow Paths

I was raised in rural eastern Oregon, in a community of fewer than 800 people. It was a railroad town that served several large ranches. We bragged that one of the daughters of a rancher was a Pendleton Roundup Princess. Her father drove their Cadillac slowly through town each day when he picked her up from school. We did get out of the way when that car came driving through. No Ford pickup for her.

Cattle were allowed to be free range within limits...fences were a serious business for those people. But most interesting to me was the fact that roads often followed the cow paths. It was so simple. Cows know the easy way up the hill and around the bend.

My dead husband was like the cows. He knew that the simplest and fastest way to the sink or the front door, and the furniture had to be arranged in such a way that his cow path did not have to vary. If it was in his way, he would push it to the side.

It was fine, though. Being married is hard and full of compromises. If you cannot live that way, DO NOT GET MARRIED. I was known to laugh at him and tease him about it. We loved each other.