Hill-Topics
Well, Hillsboro, you've done it again. The 37th Annual Hillsboro Arts and Crafts Fair has come and gone without a trace, as if all of the tents and vendors and shoppers blew in and out with the gusting wind. We had an opportunity to go behind the scenes from start to finish, from the marking of the streets, to pitching the tents and all day Saturday clear through cleanup time.
My wife, Claire, and I played a minor roll this time, filling cups with ice and pop for two hours at the chamber of commerce concession stand, located smack-dab in the middle of things at Main and Grand Avenue.
My partner was city administrator Steve Garrett. He did the diet and I did the regular. The bank clock temperature read 93 degrees. It felt great to put hand and arm into the icy water trough to retrieve bottles of water.
As someone who gets paid to micro-manage our municipality, Garrett said he marveled at how the fair seems to run almost automatically, with everyone doing their jobs. I agree.
* * * * *
One of the great things about being a newspaper reporter is getting to meet the most interesting people in the most unique settings.
But I don't know how many reporters have ever interviewed a nine-year-old like Arik Schmidt, like I did last week, on his farm west of Hillsboro. That's where his parents keep the Osage Mule Company wagon rides and school fields trips.
Arik is a remarkable boy, (see story page 1) who will represent Kansas in Mitchell, S.D. at the National Pedal Pull Championships.
While he's excited about going to the Corn Palace, going to nationals means that he'll miss one of his favorite annual events, taking the whole company to Harvey County Lake to give rides to children who've had or been diagnosed with cancer.
Like I said, he's a remarkable kid.
We'll all be pulling with you Saturday.
* * * * *
Our youngest daughter, Jillian, came to the Arts and Crafts Fair and was duly impressed, not only with the caliber of the art, but with Main Street business.
She was most astonished to visit our local coffee shop, "There's nothing like this in Fort Scott, and we're twice as big," she exclaimed.
Sometimes it seems our kids have to experience something for themselves before they'll agree with us.
Hillsboro is a special place, we've told them. Special indeed.
Claire and Jillian had an emotional moment when shopping and they came upon a rural scene in a handmade frame. The inscription read "Wherever you wander, wherever you roam, be happy and healthy and glad to come home."
For a family which has been changed by colleges and moves and such, it is a fitting new family creed. We hung it up in the house and look forward to being together down the road.
* * * * *
Well, for those of you who've been following my photographic misadventures, here's another one I've lived to tell about
After covering the middle school football game from the sidelines Thursday, I moved to the sidelines at Tabor Saturday evening, totally oblivious that I was far too close to the sidelines of a college game.
I had my new camera to my eye, focusing on a developing play out at mid-field when, blam! I was broad-sided and knocked flat to the ground by a running sidelines official, who was not happy to meet me that way.
After a few expletives on his part and a dozen apologies on mine, he went back to the game, and I moved back where I was supposed to be, behind the orange yard markers.
A few plays later, the official came over to see if I was OK. I said sure. In truth, I had a headache, my nose was scraped from the camera hitting me, and I was embarrassed beyond belief. I'm glad there was no coverage by ESPN or a giant screen to show the instant replay.
"I haven't been hit like that since I played in college," he said. Thankful not to have been thrown out of the game, I said, I was surprised, too.
I spent the rest of the half taking pictures from behind the end zone. I took a shot of the Tabor player found on today's sports page. I felt like apologizing again at halftime, but he was with the other officials and still hadn't come off the field.
The scab on my nose should be gone any day, and no doubt my bruised ego will heal.
— Grant Overstake
