Where we belong is where we are

The teen-aged boy, whose name I didn't catch, reminded me that "if you take care of your truck, your truck will take care of you." He was one of a couple dozen young people who were helping to set up the flea market at the Phillipston school. Several pickup trucks were shuttling items from the church basement to the school.

I know some of the people, but very few. This is an odd thing about being in Phillipston. I've been in this town all of my life, but the focus has always been on the lake. Even the people on the lake whom I knew as a kid, they're long gone.
So, even with a life-long connection to the town, I can probably greet one percent of the townspeople by name.
The easy thing to do, of course, is nothing. Our camp, as we well know, is a very fine place. There's plenty to do for work and play and relaxation.
But, friends beget friends and pickup trucks beget even more. On Friday evening, the night before the bazaar and flea market, we work hard for a couple of hours. The young people, Boy Scouts, mostly, work well with the adults. During the previous week, people spent several hours each event in the church basement, sorting and pricing the sale items. (Other people had spent several mornings during the past month doing the same at one person's home.)
Now it is time to move stuff. The crew carries the goods from the basement and onto the lawn and then onto the trucks. A couple of the men coach the young people on the best ways to load a truck - heavier boxes on the bottom, oddly-shaped things on top.
At the school, another swarm of people unload the trucks and find places for the goods on tables in the gym. Those of us who don't know people's names get along fine. We can still joke, coach, and praise.
By 9:30, we've emptied the church basement. We know that there are more items at the aforementioned person's house, but we don't have any more room on the tables or floor.
A dozen people were  laying out the vases, fax machines, dish sets, Christmas ornaments, tea pots, rugs, baskets, bread boxes, statues of Jesus on the cross, vacuum cleaners, crutches, boogie boards, espresso machines, empty suitcases, badminton rackets, and, well, you get the idea.
I drove home, windows down, trying to remember the names of the people I met. There will be a quiz in the morning when we open up for business.