About three weeks ago, I was at the Hanna, Elk Mountain, Medicine Bow High School football field. It was the second game at home and I was walking by the EMT crew that was nearby the ambulance to help any injured player. There looked to about dozen, give or take, standing around the ambulance.
I really admire this group of people because it is pretty much volunteer. These folks save lives not only in Hanna, but also in nearby towns. Then there is the highways. Throw in how the weather can become treacherous and an already tough situation can be life threatening to all involved. They give a lot of time to make sure the communities stay safe.
I have watched these hometown heroes in action on more than one occasion. Some are also with the town fire department. It is a pleasure to be around them, especially when kidding around.
“Hey, here comes Newspaper Mike. What’s up Newspaper Mike?” A couple more greetings using “Newspaper Mike” welcomed me as I got near the EMT folk. I couldn’t help but crack up and laugh.
I shouted, over as I was fairly close, “Is that my new nickname?”
The entire group broke into laughter and I felt great warmth with the moment.
I continued to walk to my place on the field I usually take pictures of the games, but it hit me; I was really a part of the Hanna community. My newspaper moniker was my identifier to the town, or at least this group that I admired.
This is not my first nickname from a community of sorts. Living overseas I was definitely a part of some expat group. I remember being known as American Mike because at the time, there were few Americans where I lived, whether I am talking about Taiwan, China or Australia. Then there was Bartender Mike because I bartended a lot in all those place, too.
Both nicknames, by how they singled me out from other Westerners, gave me a feeling while living overseas that I was a part of a group who lived in cultures that were truly foreign. Australia was different as far as standing out because of having Western looks, but I got both nicknames anyway because I was known as “American Mike” for my accent and “Bartender Mike” because for whatever reason, there were few pure bartenders where I lived. Bartenders were more barista types that knew how to make great coffee but were terrible at making mixed drinks.
I have lived in Hanna for 20 years and Carbon County 23 years and have considered it my home.
It is my home, even though for months at a time–if not actually years–I would be living elsewhere.
Its funny to me that, as recent as four years ago, I was living in Maryland, the place I more or less grew up and was not sure when I would be back to Wyoming.
Although I had my home in Hanna for quite some time and love the place, I didn’t really know a lot townspeople. I knew way more Valley people because I had bartended at the Wolf Hotel and Lazy River Cantina. I still feel very much at ease in the Valley when I am out and about there.
My strong interaction with Hanna and north Carbon County folk absolutely started when I went to work for the Saratoga Sun a little over three years ago. I had a slow beginning due to how little I knew about the area I lived.
My knowledge of Hanna’s coal and railroad heritage was non-existent. I knew Hanna had a great recreation center and I occasionally hung out at one of the local bars, but I didn’t even know where the Hanna Basin Museum was until about six months into my job as a reporter. I had a vague idea where the firehouse was, but it never occurred to me where ambulances were kept.
It is also crazy to me now that I had absolutely no idea how the town functioned. I knew I had to pay my water/landfill bill at town hall and that the Marshal’s office was on the lower level of that building.
The RNB State Bank staff I knew and the post office had my next door neighbor as postmistress, but I really didn’t know many people in town.
That has dramatically changed. So has my knowledge of Carbon County and the people who live here. In the past three years; what I have seen and done to learn about the area, and who I have talked to as they explain a subject or history to me, has undoubtedly changed me.
For the better, it is hoped.
I am on a few boards in town, something a few years back was not something I ever considered doing. Honestly, the boards I am on now I didn’t even know existed a few years back.
Although I have been interacting with the town and the communities in the north for a few years now, for some reason there have been times I have felt a little bit like an outsider. I have no real ties to the area other than what I forged myself. So many residents have real roots here and, until recently, I have lived a very nomadic existence.
Then came that little greeting from the EMTs three weeks ago.
It hit me like lightning as I got my camera ready to take pictures of the HEM football players. I am no outsider to the town I live in. I have a nickname that might be used more than I have any idea. That nickname means I am a part of this community.
That’s cool.
The best part.
I heard the nickname first, from a group of people that were joking around with me, who I admire and respect tremendously.
I remember breaking into a smile as I started clicking away at the HEM football team.
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