Rupert, ID

On the third leg of my journey home (LA to ID) I rode with an all time city girl. She is a world traveller and one of the most adventurist spirits. She knows Rupert, ID well and talked about the things she wanted to see there. Aguila's tacos and the Rupert Square were among the most important. She was describing Rupert to her family and talked about how it was the smallest type of town.

I started to defend my little home by saying things like "It isn't how they show small towns in the movies. The judge, the sheriff, and the richest man in town aren't all the same people. People don't know everybody's business ALL the time. And we use WIFI internet. It doesn't take 5 days to send an email or fix a car."

After debating whether it is best to raise a family in the country or the city and enjoying the differences we had quite an amazing trip and I had a familiar encounter with home.

We were just about to exit "town" and get on the main road to get to my house. My friend was speeding up in the lonely 25 mph zone. I glanced over and just as I was about to say "You might want to slow down" we saw the daunting flashing lights of blue and red.

WE stop. He stops. The usual expressions of panic filled the car. We saw a dark figure get out. Strangely, he chose to come to the passenger side. I rolled down my window and looked up into the face of the man who held my friend's fate and said,

"Hi Brother Dudley." This man has been known to stand up in church and declare that no matter who he went to church with he would still give them a ticket. He has always been a friendly guy and with a little prodding he started telling me all about his kids, "Well you know Mike don'tya?" No, but I nodded. I delighted in the new grandbaby. I told him about Italy. With the nicest exchange of words he said "Well, I am just going to give you a warning this time. Good to have you home." As he walked away I said "See you in church tomorrow!"

In the following days I gloried in walking around the fields and ditchbanks. I could see nothing but country for miles, that settled so softly in the twilight. I could smell the fresh cut hay . . . and the skunks. I was talking on the phone one night and did a loop around my house. I was just about to turn to go back when I looked up and saw a skunk 8 feet away from me. We both turned from each other and started sprinting. My dad, still on the phone with me, laughed at the encounter. I walked around my Aunt's house to avoid the skunky dwelling. I had almost reached my driveway when I saw it again! I did a weird curve to avoid it and sprinted to my house.

Flash forward a few weeks and imagine the square filled with everyone and sometimes their dogs. We had a five-day patriotic festival for the 4th of July. We had swing bands, blue-grass bands, country bands, and other types on our gazebo. Each night as I walked around and saw families reuinited for the most spectacular Rupert holiday I reflected on my experiences and thought how very wrong I was to say Rupert wasn't THAT small. In a matter of weeks I ended a conversation with a policeman with "see you in church", I escaped a skunk, I took 2 mile walks without seeing a soul, and I went to the biggest event of the year (came out with a tamale and fresh fries--a mark of the community I guess). It just doesn't get any more small town than that.