And They Lived Happily Ever After

Once upon a time…

Once upon a time there was a small town in southeast Michigan—Amy, Auburn Heights, Auburn Hills—that created a community who lived forever.

In the days of the Heights, children and adults celebrated holidays with parades and ceremonies at the cemetery or fire station.

Halloween crammed magic into one hour each year, starting with the fire whistle at six, and ending at the elementary school for cider and doughnuts at seven, with children skipping home past streets lit by orange flares to commemorate the night and hint about Fourth of July fireworks.

In the fall, an elementary school held their annual Fall Festival with classrooms set up for cake walks, white elephant sales, fishing for plastic ducks and prizes, hot dogs and cotton candy.

Residents gathered in the hills across from the elementary school—known, of course, as the School Hills—for Independence Day fireworks, shot off by our fire department, with the National Anthem and glowing flag at the end of the show.

Children pulled sleds to those slopes for wintertime play, from the easy runs to the dangerous, death-defying twists and chasms with dead trees in the path.

Our friends lived on our streets and in our neighborhoods. We attended the same high school, so every name became familiar.

Neighbors took up collections for illness, death, March of Dimes, and delivered cakes and casseroles.

Corner stores sold pop and penny candy. Mothers sent children for bread, milk, even cigarettes.

You could believe that there were many small towns around America like the Heights, but that would not be accurate. Our sense of community was an enchantment that followed us through the years, across the state and country, and even outside U.S. borders. (Right, Niki?)

A clever wizard created a way for us to overcome age and distance, and relive those memories with each other, triggering more. So many families from different income levels and backgrounds were gathered in one memorable community, and as the years went by, our common bond kept us close.

I am one of many grateful for the opportunity to keep this community alive and thriving, thanks to Joanie, and to every one of us who read, share, and remember our hometown.

Once a resident of the Heights, always part of that community, no matter how many miles and changes can come between us. Over the years, we’ve all experienced loss, grief, joy, and challenges.

But one thing is true.

And they lived happily ever after…