“You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” –Eleanor Roosevelt

I’d heard that voice before. It was the lion tamer in my head, ready with its whip and chair.

As I sat behind the other auctioneer waiting for my turn, it piped in again.

“What do you think you are doing? This is your hometown, you know. These people have known you longer than anyone, and you are getting ready to humiliate yourself in front of several hundred of them. I told you a long time ago to get back in your cage, and you didn’t listen. Now, look what you’ve gone and done. You have no choice but to get up and try to pull this off. You will likely fall on your face, but you were warned. Yes, you’ve done this enough times to know what you are doing, but this crowd is different. These are your people from long ago, so good luck.”

Once again, I told that voice to shut up. I didn’t completely doubt it, but I couldn’t let it win. I had been professionally trained, volunteered for this, signed up willingly, gave my word, told everyone I would, and now it seemed there was no way out of taking my turn calling bids at my hometown’s annual church picnic auction, a fundraiser that supports the private Catholic school I graduated from so many years ago.

I wanted to help, but I also wanted to run away. I knew I had to go through with it, and I did. And I didn’t fall on my face, at least, I don’t think I did. I am a novice with a long way to go before I sound like the professionals who have been doing it for years–if I ever do. But, I think I did okay. Once again, I was “Colonel Kathleen,” the title used by auctioneers.

Perhaps it is because the fine folks from my hometown are kind-hearted, or maybe I really did do okay up there behind the mic, but I survived my turn calling bids, I was warmly received and the show went on. I faced that fear, and made it through the “baptism by fire,” as a fellow alumni friend called it.

I did the thing I thought I couldn’t do.

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The celebration is a much-anticipated, locally famous community-wide effort that fosters the ever-present, strong sense of community in our small hometown.

The community continues to support a small grocery store with a big reputation for “Tipton Sausage.” It was recently purchased by a young couple with family ties here, feeding the mouths and the souls of area residents. Everyone is thrilled to support this legacy by supporting the new owners. Gail stocked up on this famous sausage this weekend.

The annual celebration includes a train ride around town. I didn’t get to take the tour on it this year but Gail did. She captured its reflection as it ferried the riders down Main Street.

If you have never been to Tipton, Kansas, I hope you someday will get the chance to take your own tour around town. You cannot fail to notice the pride that the residents have in their small town, there is nary an unkempt house or yard to be seen. Everyone takes care of their own space to continue to present and preserve a beautiful community.

Our annual visit last weekend also consisted of a visit to the cemetery. We normally take a burger and a beer to Mom and Dad, but the burger line was too long, and the storm was brewing, so it was only a beer this year. I know they understood.

The storm did indeed continue to brew. Suzanne and I headed home with our families in tow and stayed just ahead of it. Unfortunately, the storm did shut down the celebration, but only until it passed. The folks in our hometown are resilient; they just keep going. It’s what they have always done. The auction typically continues until late in the evening, and since it was already simulcasted online, the remaining items are being sold online, instead of the live/online combination. The burger and beer stands were in business throughout, as I understand from Gail and other family members.

Another church picnic is in the books; thank you to our hometown for continuing this legacy. Thanks especially to all our hometown readers. There are two–B.G and S.L–who gave me the nicest compliments on this blog at the picnic. You both made me realize I can share both joy and pain with my writing. I believe that joy multiplies when shared, and pain is divided when shared. My goal is to do both.

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I have saved the most exciting news for last: Suzanne is now a grandma! Jasper Ellis Miller was born to her daughter at the end of July, on the same day I gave birth 23 years ago. Mother, baby and grandma are all doing fine, and Suzanne has now joined the ranks of grandma with Gail and me.

Welcome, Jasper! Congratulations, Suzanne!

Thank you Tipton, Kansas!