By Roslyn Ryan
Editor

I paused when I came across the following statement in an article last week, and something compelled me to jot it down:

“I moved to a small town and nobody played chess there, but one guy challenged me to a game of checkers,” said a man who had moved to a remote county in Colorado.  “I always thought it was kind of a simple game, but I accepted. And he beat me nine or ten times in a row. That’s sort of like living in a small town. It’s a simpler game but it’s played to a higher level.”
A simpler game, played to a higher level.  Life in a place like Powhatan may seem uncomplicated—or even, at times, less sophisticated—to outsiders. But the actions of officials seem to resonate more here because they have such an immediate impact on so many people.  We care what happens to our neighbors because we know them. We care what our leaders do because the ramifications are impossible to ignore. We pay attention to issues that may haunt us down the road, because we hope our children will have a place here as well.

As we move through the important issues of the next few months, we hope our leaders will remember the impact of every decision they make. The problems we face, on their surface, may seem simple compared to other places. The stakes for Powhatan, however, have never been higher. 

* * *

You know those moments in your life when you realize that, while you are not exactly old, you’re not young anymore either? The following is an actual conversation I had with a friend’s teenage son the other day, about a song on the radio:

Me: “Yeah, it’s a catchy song I guess, but why is he rapping about his underpants?”

Him: (Giving me a look as if I’d sprouted a second, third, then fourth head) “He’s … not.”

Me: “He is.”

Him: “No. He’s saying ‘other Benz’…as in Mercedes Benz. Not ‘underpants.’ He’s talking about a car.”

Me: “Oh.”

Him: “Wow.”

Me: “...”
And right there, with that, I officially became my parents. Not the worst thing in the world, certainly. Just a bit sooner than I expected.