My Hometown

There are very few moments I ever think quoting Jason Aldean isn’t literary suicide, but this is one of those moments. 

There ain’t a corner of this hallowed ground

That we ain’t laughed or cried on

It’s where we loved, lived, learned real life stuff

It’s everything we’re made of

This past week I’ve been continually reminded why I stayed here, and why I’m more proud than ever to call Fargo, “home.” 

It’s the way my hometown pulls together to support one of its own.  The way the local bank creates something called “Pay It Forward” to foster a spirit of giving. The way the folks at Anne Carlsen Center and the local detox do so much behind the scenes (with so little recognition). The way local businessmen rebuild downtown and the way a local foundation creates Giving Hearts Day and inspires hundreds to give millions to thousands in need. 

It’s the way my workplace learned yesterday we would be hosting the funeral for Officer Moszer. Doing so would be no small undertaking—it would be our 12th event day in a row, would require everyone coming in on a Sunday to cover the ice, build the stage, place over 1400 chairs, and clean every room. It would likely take most of the night. 

And not one person in the room thought twice about doing whatever it would take to exceed every expectation of the family and friends of one of our own. 

Proud of you all. Proud to be here. Proud to follow your example. 

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