I often get, "It is beautiful where you live, but it is too far out."
I have lived most of my life "too far out." And I would have it no other way. Those of us who grew up with rural living know the significance of dried beans and canned preserves. We grew gardens and froze corn. And the drive into work or school was frustrating at times, but the rewards of leaving the chaos at the end of the day driving back home to a stretch of nature I now see was a blessing.
I don't find that today's rural women are quite like those I remember when I was growing up. Recently I was thinking about the loss of a dear friend's mother, Ms. Elaine Husser, and I had to marvel at the oxymoron of such a woman. It can best be summed up as a delicate strength, a gentle stubbornness, and an equipped dedication to a rural way of life. To use the word equipped I refer to the nucleus of all farming families back in my childhood: the Bible.
And that is where my mind has gone each time I have thought about Chanda and her family. Growing up, visiting the Husser home in the Canaan Community was like falling into a handwoven quilt just taken off the line having dried by the sun. Like every household back in my childhood, Ms. Elaine was the hub of that wheel. Mr. Huey ran the dairy barn while Chanda and I tromped through the mud poking the sleeping pigs and climbing over hay bales. We snacked on pickles and saltine crackers, drinking water straight from the garden hose, while Ms. Elaine --- after waking up with the sun --- tidied her home and prepared for dinner.
Chanda's parents were both up long before we stirred from her bed, and breakfast was cooked and on the bar in their kitchen that opened to a den. There was a television in the corner, a couch, a chair, and a rocker with the Holy Bible resting nearby. Lunch was cold sandwiches and dinner was your traditional southern spread of garden vegetables and roast or chicken.
Throughout the day as we had run wild in the fields, exploring nature and solving made-up mysteries, we had deep childhood conversations about the important things in life like scratching off scabs to rub blood together mimicking Grizzly Adams.
Ms. Elaine and I shared the same birthday. As I grew older, she would call my house on my birthday or shortly after to remind me of this. We both had that celebrated day which got lost between Christmas and New Year. And for my graduation gift she bought me a jar of pickles because she laughed at how I always tore through them at her house.
There was a piano in their house and music was often playing by the fingertips of one of her children. Later they closed in the garage and a pool table became the highlight.
After raising four children of my own, I realize one of the things I enjoyed most about visiting their home was the constant laughter of kids of all ages coming and going. And the consistent presence of Mr. Huey and Ms. Elaine.
I was blessed by so many role models in my life growing up, but when I think back to women like Ms. Elaine, they stand out as pillars of all that was right and simple yet so complex. Dedicated to a life that was not easy, but fruitful and was not fancy, but exquisite. These country women lived the truest form of "simple abundance."
Ms. Elaine was a blessing to her four children, her husband and to me. She will forever be tucked away in my childhood memories. A little girl living "too far out" where the dairies hummed and the frogs croaked and a family's Bible wasn't just a book, but their way of life.
