Fellowship

We’ve got a pretty good thing going the second and fourth Sunday night of every month.  There’s a small group of folks from our church that come over to our house for a little “fellowship” time.  I love them all. We have soup and we talk.  Everyone in our group, except my husband and I, have lived in the Skagit Valley longer than I’ve been alive so I have learned much about local history and some of the characters that have called this place home over the years.

We talk about our relationship with God, but we also talk about the past.  Some of their stories need to be written down. 

Pat and Richard Smith, partners in Skagit Valley’s Best Potatoes are in our group – they know everyone and everything about farming.  Gary and Nancy Hoffman from Bow are also in it and between the two of them, I’m sure they’re related to half the county.  Bev Seaman lived in La Conner for years and always brings a fresh perspective to our conversations about past events. 

They all refer to local places by the names of previous owners and to people by who is related to whom.  It’s a language all their own, and being one of the true newcomers to this valley, I’m lost in half the conversation, but try hard to keep up.

This past week I steered the conversation a bit by asking two of the guys how it felt to say goodbye to their family farms, as they have both recently left their lives out in the country and moved into town. 

Dallas Wylie, one of the nicest guys you could ever meet, recently sold the house on Fir Island he’s lived in with his wife for over 48 years.  His grandfather built it in 1934.  The street even bears the Wylie name, harkening back to the days the farm was established in 1913.  He and his wife, Darlene, spent months purging, reliving old memories, giving away treasures to their girls and grandchildren, and then moved - without as much as a second look back.  Now in their mid 70s, they are ready for a simpler life with no yard work and a house with less upkeep.

Don Summers, a gentle soul I dearly love, also recently left the property that’s been in his family since 1870 when his great grandfather, Henry Summers came from England and homesteaded a chunk of land on Pleasant Ridge, again, on a road that now bears that name.  Don worked hard for many years to keep the place in good shape for the next generation, but when none of his nieces or nephews wanted to take on the responsibility of ownership, he was left with no choice but to sell.  He’ll soon be 80.

I expected a bit of heartache or melancholy in their voices when they talked about walking away from such a legacy, but surprisingly, they both said they felt no emotional attachment to their homes whatsoever – it was time to leave.   What got them choked up, however, was talking about past kindness’ from neighbors in their times of need.  The buildings are easy to walk away from, but relationships are what impact the heart.