Volunteering and the American Way

It may be that I have a skewed perspective since I live in a small rural community, but what I witnessed Friday night was nothing short of amazing.

If ever you need to reaffirm your faith in the country, go to a small town football game on rivalry week. That is what I did on Friday. It was the 79th annual Coffee Pot game, which pitted the cross county rivals Tullahoma and Coffee County Central High School.

People that live within 15 miles of each other and have common state pride have such loyalty to their own city that this rivalry is truly a gem.

I sat on the home side, CCHS, with my sister-in-law who attends the school. It was here first coffee pot game, and I would venture a guess that is was one of a hand full of games she has been to period. That being said, I am not sure she noticed many of the nuances that made it special.

Coffee County is home to roughly 40,000 people. At least a quarter of which were at the game. I am not making this up. Each set of grand stands holds roughly 4,000 people and the entire field was lined 3 and four people deep; almost completely around the perimeter. Not to mention the 3 or 4 hundred kids standing in the area around the concession stand. It was literally 1/4 of the county. Amazing in its own right, but it was the spirit that brought them there that amazed me. Good natured competition.

Sure, some of the kids fought, but no adults. After the game, both teams met on the fifty for a moment of prayer to give thanks that there was no serious injury and that the game had been a good one. No armed escorts to the team buses and no serious incidents at all.

That is how it is supposed to be. I went unarmed to this event and never felt in any way in need of armorment. It was a great time, even if I did have to sit among the enemy. And that is the beauty of it. The American way lives on despite the tumultuous world around us. And in Manchester Tennessee, a small county of country folks managed to, at the same time, despise each other and respect each other, while crammed into about 5 acres of property. Simply wonderful...

Tullahoma won naturally.

Still, there was something else. From my perch crammed behind a fat woman in a stadium seat and a buffoon with very sharp knees, I noticed that several of the men I saw were wearing emergency pagers. The mark of a volunteer fireman. I thought it odd, so I started counting. In the 15 rows between us and the concourse I counted 35 pagers. Each row had a breadth of 30 people or so I found 35 pagers among roughly 450 people. Another amazing stat.

In the wake of 9/11's anniversary I think it is important to remember the 343 paid fireman who lost their lives in the line of duty. It is also important to remember the men who are willing to be called out of their beds, in the middle of the night, to drive across the county to enter raging house fires in homes of people they don't know.... for free. They hold down regular jobs, the have families and, much to my enjoyment, were at the home town football game on Friday night. These men do not get paid for their time, they do not get reimbursed for the purchase of the equipment they must obtain to do this job, nor do they get the gas money to fly across the countryside to aid a comrade. It is totally volunteer; their time, money, life...

So while we observe the tragedy that has recently befallen our country and remember those that have passed, let us not focus on the apparent degradation of our proud nation, but on the selfless heroism and community spirit that is still alive and well today. Maybe just not in the media.

Oh... happy b-day MOM.