*We passed by a very remarkable scene at the courthouse– which we have to pass by every time we head to town– about 9:30pm. I’ll talk about it soon.
I’m coming to understand that Daughter K has my gift of story-telling.
The Sheriff’s race was contested. Our neighbor is a guy we’ve gotten to know a bit, and who we like, and would probably trust. He served some time in Afghanistan. I think he was in the calvery. He lost his hearing and now has a horse. He’s our “neighbor” because we share a property line.
See how easy it is to write this shit?
But seriously, Our Neighbor is a deputy sherrif. We know him a little, and like him a lot. We share a property line. We were interested in his views on the sherrif’s race.
He gave them to me. I asked a few questions, he gave me answers; we discussed a few general matters, and I voted for a Democrat for Sherrif.
And then he ended up aploogizing. Turns out that since this is such a small county, and since the county seat is in such a small town, people gather at the county seat— actaully at the “tennis court” across the street from the courthouse– to see the election results come in.
He apologized that he hadn’t told us about this before.
AND THEN I turned left and saw the trucks and cars at The Courthouse.