Life in Kickapoo Center at the turn of the Century
It's a Ball pint glass canning jar. The lid says Kerr"from the makers of Ball( registered trademark) fresh preserving products" . On the outside of the jar are foam letters, butterflies, flowers , old buttons and glitter. At the bottom of the jar it says Happy New Year. Inside are red strips of paper. Each strip has a phrase or sentence. The first I pull out says, ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas. I screw the lid back on and redeposit the strip of paper. It's a special gift from a granddaughter.
The holidays have whooshed by. Whoosh. Even after last night's champagne, I can feel the wind. Here in Kickapoo Center life is tranquil. In Prairie du Chien, a small town at the extreme southwest corner of the state, they drop a carp at midnight on New's Year's Eve. When we lived in Arizona, we managed to miss the dropping of the pine cone in Flagstaff. We don't have TV so we didn't see the famous Times Square spectacle. I ask Dawn, What do they drop in Kickapoo Center? She doesn't answer.
Candidates for the New Year's Eve ritual here might be manure, a raccoon, antlers from a White Tail Deer and farmer overalls. I won't muse about resolutions. The apple ale, venison jerky, a goose, cookies, fudge, nut mix, cranberry sauce and beers of the world are a pleasant memory. The jar is a lasting creation of good feelings and affirmations. One which I may add to from time to time and share with three year old Sophia as she grows up.
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