Hope Springs Eternal
Tomorrow, March 13, voters in Salmon, Idaho, will have what may be the 17th chance to pass a bond to build a new Kindergarten — 8th grade school. The trick is in Idaho, we need a super majority or 66.6% of voters to check the yes box. So the kinds of things we might be able to get a super majority to agree on include:
a) When duck hunting, I would rather have a black labrador retriever than a calico cat
b) We should restore our right to drink beer while driving a pickup truck that is 1985 model or older
c) Ketchup is a vegetable
The sort of things that are harder to super majoritize include taxation, education, forward looking statements, the importance of stretching, etc.
It’s just this kind of podunk pessimism that caused me to snort when our dear friends decided to hold a mountain top wedding on March 10 in Central Idaho. For the record, a March 10 outdoor wedding would be a gamble in Phoenix, Arizona. In the mountains of Central Idaho, a March 10 outdoor wedding, much less one in the Salmon River Mountains, just plain makes you wonder how much they really wanted to get married.
When what passes as your limo has to chain up to get to the makeshift chapel, you know you are pushing the envelope…
To add to the risky business, the couple plans to live and work in Salmon. The bride grew up here and she and her groom think they’ll try their hand at raising milk goats, selling cheese, building things.
So how ludicrous when March 10 boasted blue skies and high 60s on the ridge; when all the trucks made it up the snow-covered road without incident; when no one could imagine a more beautiful wedding…
In their bravery, the newlyweds and their families caused me to hope. If they could pull off this hare-brained scheme, maybe their livelihood in Salmon could pan out, too. Maybe this attitude of “anything is possible” would become contagious, and we’d all become infected with it. I swear as I was thinking these sappy thoughts, a bald eagle flew behind them, high above the Salmon River where the steelhead were migrating upriver.
What if people who believe in the podunk-meets-paradise dream become the super majority? Oh, sweet Jesus, let them be registered voters.