Those 70ish Girls

Sometimes during my recent visit to Murdo, there would be times when I wouldn’t be involved in a long drawn out conversation, meeting other people, or I would be taken to someone’s house for dinner or some minor business or for a quick pop in. I didn’t have a car so I relied on others. It’s these small things and short moments that add up.

One such time was when friends and I had stopped to check on a bridge game at the Senior Center on Main Street. These eight people playing bridge were serious players. They studied their cards intently. They even had these wooden racks on the card table holding their hand. I was trying to joke around with them only to be met with cold shoulders and icy glares. Brrr. The cards were their focus. This showed me that no matter how small a group met regularly to play bridge, to them it was a big thing to meet and have fun, serious fun. They didn’t like me goofing around. Seems like a small thing to me, but not to bridge players. It was a big deal, no pun intended.

I relied on Paul and Ralph or Suzanne to drive me around (also cousin Mark and Dave). I had just a glimpse of the senior center and what people did to pass the time. They totally were immersed in the game. I never learned how to play bridge. Someone mentioned that only smart people played it. That could be the reason I don’t play bridge.

Another small thing happened that made me feel…uh…small. We were going to the alumni luncheon at the Harold Thune Auditorium where 300 people attended but first we stopped by the ambulance garage where the 1960’s and 1970’s graduation classes were meeting. I would’ve been in the Murdo High Class of 1967 if my parents hadn’t moved me to California. It was well attended and there were homemade desserts on a table with lots of cold water bottles. It was hot in that metal building so I was guzzling cold water and trying cookies and other goodies. Every treat was homemade which is special. I kept wondering where the bathroom was.

I enjoyed taking pictures of my cousin’s friends and mine but after a couple hours, everyone left since it was so hot in the metal building. I zipped in back to use the bathroom. I washed my hands and since I was hurrying, I jerked on the paper towel roll with wet hands and watched as the entire roll fell off the holder falling directly into the toilet. I grabbed it but it had hit the clean water soaking one end of the towel roll, so I decided to just fish it out and hang the roll up to dry. I’m probably getting demerits for that and guilt fills my mind as I write about it. It’s a small thing but will haunt my memory of the 2026 trip to my hometown. At the time, it wasn’t a small thing. The cops might be looking for me right now or at least the janitor.

The entire 8 days I spent in Murdo, I experienced how close these people were and how family meant so much to them. They’d ask me who my parents were or when I had graduated. They looked at me askance as I said I hadn’t graduated from Murdo High but had attended Junior High in Murdo. So as one cousin said, I am an imposter.

Another time I was touched by how kind Murdo folks were. We were in this ginormous line at the auditorium waiting to pick up our lunch. We were talking to a man pushing his mother in a wheelchair and they actually knew my Aunt Loretta and he explained that his Mother had cleaned rooms at my aunt’s Chalet Motel. She asked how Loretta was doing and I realized she wasn’t all right mentally so I tried to break it to her gently that my aunt had passed away about 18 years ago. The lady said, “Aww, that’s too bad. I really liked her.”

Also while standing in line at the auditorium, I noticed my shoe laces were untied. This was complicated by the fact that my laces had been chewed by my puppy when at home and I had them tied in three places. Ralph bent down to tie them, but I stopped him and leaned against a wall to do it myself, knowing the job wasn’t easy. He showed me how helpful people are regarding such a simple yet sweet thing. He knew I had lost my husband a year ago and I was still pretty fragile. The help he was offering was a small gesture but not for me.

When you’re in your 70’s, the little moments take center stage because there isn’t much you haven’t experienced and the big moments in life are pretty much over or things are passing by like a bullet train that’s not stopping at your departure depot.

I’m going to remember my trip to Murdo, but mostly I hold these memories of the people there closest to my heart.