Chuckles from Chesterfield

By the Busy Housewife

The fever is mounting – hour by hour, day by day – and the townspeople of Chesterfield are beginning to feel the tension of the times – tension arising from anticipation of that big event on Old Home Day.

Proof of the high pitch of local nerves came one afternoon last week. Suddenly, the bucolic silence of a lovely summer afternoon was shattered, not once, but four or five times. It wailed, each successive wail soaring higher than the one before it. People poured out of their homes, cars roared out of driveways, volunteers raced up the street, townspeople, visitors, everyone available rushed up the road and followed along after the engine as it leaped forward out of the firehouse and raced along the straight-a-way in the direction of the fire. Aboard the fire truck faces were grim, the hand on the throttle was steady, but nerves were taut. One thought raced through the minds of the men; nothing must be allowed to interfere with the big event ahead. However stupendous the task ahead, however dangerous, all hand had turned out and no human effort would be spared to extinguish the conflagration! On down the main street, a sudden turn to the right, another swift but sure turn to the left in the direction of the smoke and flames, a scream of the brakes, a leaping of men from the truck manning the hoses, but what brought up short, almost stopped them in their tracks? The sight of a little outhouse burning merrily. 

The utter amazement on the faces of the men who went into their task with their accustomed efficiency was something to see. In a matter of minutes, the fire was out. The sun was shinning as brightly as ever, the song of the birds could be heard again, and the long line of cars started back up the main street. Followed by a panting engine over whose strained roar could be heard, the chuckles of the perspiring firemen.

There was a sigh of relief. One less hurdle in the chain of important events. It could have been serious but instead turned out to be funny. 

In spite of the seriousness of the hug job ahead on August 25, a chuckle now and then keeps the spirits high. Chesterfield is in the throes of a clean-up. Anything that can be painted, polished, pointed-up or otherwise improved is being painted, polished, etc., etc. Anything that might appear unsightly to the visiting eye that cannot be camouflaged, buried, or blown up to get it out of sight is being hauled away.

The larges job along the main street is the painting of the Methodist Church, the smallest a local fence. Everyone is taking his job seriously and civic pride shines out of the faces of the inhabitants. It would be difficult to improve on the natural beauty of the town, any other detail necessary is being ably and nobly handled. It is hart-warming to see the response from those who honor a great man who in turn, because of his qualities, would have enjoyed the humor in the local scene and would have championed the unity of sincere effort on the part of the people working for a common goal. One for all and all for one, it will be a job well done.



August 25, 1948 Old Home Day was special

It was the day the "Dignitaries Came to Town"