Days 12-15: Lyfe in Forsyth

When my older brother informed me he was moving from Tennessee to Montana I was giddy. Images of snow covered mountain peaks and cool streams flooded my imagination.  They'd now only be 7-8 hours away from us and more importantly, living in the middle of the best trout fishing in the lower 48.

"So where will you be?" I asked,"Missoula...near Glacier...Flathead Lake area.."  
"Forsyth."
"Forsyth, where's that?"
"Near Billings."
"Where's that?"
"It's on the eastern side of Montana."
"Oh, are there mountains?
"Not really."
"Are there forests?"
"We've got bluffs."
"Does a river run through it?"
"Yeah, the Yellowstone."
"Oh, okay..."
"I hear it has all kinds of fish; bass, catfish and even paddlefish."
"And trout?"
"No trout."

My giddy became glum.  Instead of seven hours they were fifteen.  Instead of mountains there were plains.  Instead of streams there were gulches.  My brother and his family weren't moving to Montana, they were moving to Western Dakota.  Why in the world did he want to move to a place like that?  I am ashamed to admit that I didn't even attempt to answer this question until almost ten years later when this sabbatical and my nephew's graduation overlapped.

Welcome
My brother had hoped we'd arrive early enough to help one of his neighbors brand some of their cattle.  Unfortunately, we didn't get there until closer to dinner.  I'm sure his friend was really disappointed to miss an opportunity to have help from the likes of us.  I'm sure at some point I would have asked if some cattle feel superior because they're wearing name-brands.  It's probably best we arrived when we did.  In an interesting side-note my brother informed me that brand collecting is big money.  Turns out there are no new brands.  If you have cattle and want to brand them, you have to purchase the rights to a brand.  Before there was a market for internet domains, ranchers created one for brands.  Basically, ranchers created the internet.

The First Supper
(Counterclockwise: my brother, Easton, Kelsey (Easton's girlfriend), Ashton, Kathy Leaver, Katie,
Christie, Benjamin, Will, Jane and Annalee) 

Part of hospitality is
knowing what your guests love.
Is there any doubt how welcomed
Benjamin feels by the Cap'n?

Soon after arriving we were whisked down to the church fellowship hall for a welcome meal.  The hall was set up for a graduation party for my nephew (Easton), his girlfriend and class valedictorian (Kelsey) and their friend Eric.  You can see their names on the wall in the picture. If the fellowship hall looks new that's because it was recently finished.  When my brother arrived they soon started plans for a new hall.  They refused to go in debt for the project instead completing sections as money was donated.  It took a few years, but they now have a bright, open, accessible and debt-free fellowship hall.

Life on the Range
When my brother said we were going hiking I wondered what that might look like.  Would we just walk down a dirt road or head along a fence post?  And what is there to see that you can't already see somewhere on the horizon?  To get to the hike we drove thirty miles.  The first five were paved.  The next twenty were gravel and dirt.  The final five were just a general direction.  As soon as we hit the dirt road the kids moved from the cab to the bed of the pickup.  There they enjoyed the ride as if it were a roller coaster.  Free of seat-belts and even seats, they were pretty sure they were getting away with something.

No seat belts...no seats, just a dirt road, the bed of a pick up truck
and the wind in my face.  

Ten miles into the trip I had yet to see what might be worth seeing.  Clearly my brother was excited about this place but it all seemed so flat, dry, brown and well, sort of dead.  My opinion started to change after we got mooned.  "Over there," my brother pointed, "there's one."  "One what?" I asked.  "An antelope."  Sure enough, one, then two, then three antelope were less than a hundred yards away at home on the range.  They saw us, stared until we got closer and then turned to bound away.  If you've ever seen an antelope bound away then you'll understand what I mean when I say it mooned us.  Their bodies are brown, but their butts are snow white, almost human like.   It was like they were mocking us.  Not much further along I saw a little creature scamper into a hole.  "Prairie dog," my brother replied.  "They're all over the place."  Sure enough we soon came upon a whole prairie dog village where dozens of the little fellas chirped warnings to their neighbors that strangers were coming.  Next we saw a pair of Sage Grouse just sauntering up the fence line.  And then a gaggle of turkeys and then, believe it or not, a Great Horned Owl.  I kid you not.  In the middle of the day one of the biggest birds I've ever seen swooped down, perched on a fence post and stared us down.


Various forms of life continued to surprise us as we hiked from the cistern to the edge of what my brother called a form of the badlands.  You can see one of those forms of life below in the hands of Benjamin.  I almost stepped on this guy who fortunately was not a rattlesnake.  It wasn't until we were driving home that I began to realize how wrong I'd been about this open range.  It may look lifeless but only because I hadn't known how to look.

A hail of  Graduation party  

Erin had to work but was able to fly in on Saturday.  I went to pick her up at the Billings airport and encountered this.  

 Though the storm followed us to the 110 miles to Forsyth, the graduation party went on.  Playing the role of the mean uncle, I was able to get my niece to say nice things about her brother.

Graduation

Graduation was on Sunday afternoon.  My nephew was one of 28 graduates.  That's right, he had just a few more students in his entire class than any of my kids have in any of their single classes.  You might think 28 students would mean there were only a couple of hundred spectators.  The entire town of Forstyth has about 2,000 people, at least half of them were at the gym that afternoon.  

Life in Forsyth
In between graduations and meals my brother showed me the town.  He introduced me to the ladies at the hardware store where I bought a fishing license.  When he introduced me to Carl at the second hardware store, he also asked if he could borrow the key to the church.  Turns out that Carl is the caretaker of the Presbyterian church next door.  He pulled a key from a hook and handed it to us.  No questions, no signatures, just "here ya go."  My brother pointed out murals on the walls of buildings which were painted by a local artist.  Also there is "The Roxy" which was voted best small town movie theater in Montana (or something like that).  My brother made sure we got down the see the Yellowstone River as well as the town museum.  Before we left he took us out to the ranch of Easton's friend Eric so we could ride horses.  He wanted us to see it all.

Despite sharing parents and a last name, my brother and I are different.  He hunts, I fish.  He's a conservative Baptist while I'm a progressive Presbyterian.  He builds guns, I brew beer.  He's a member of the NRA while I'm a Washingtonian for Greater Gun Responsibility.  These differences used to cause tension between us.  That began to change when I started pastoring a small church.  Instead of arguing about hell, pacifism or sanctification we began to talk about pianists, session/deacon meetings and potlucks.  As it turns out, small churches have a lot in common regardless of their denominational affiliation.  What we have in common is greater than what we don't.  After visiting Forsyth I know the truth of that even more.


South Tacoma and Forsyth
Though I'd never been to Forsyth something seemed familiar.  Like an itch you can't scratch or a name you can't remember it began to bug me.  What is familiar about this place?  It wasn't until Sunday night while sitting around a campfire in their backyard that it dawned upon me.  It wasn't Forsyth that was familiar.  It was my brother's view on Forsyth.

Few places could be more different than South Tacoma and Forsyth.  Yet, many have and would ask, "Where is the life here?"  To many both places look lifeless, but that's only because they haven't been taught how to look.  It turns out, despite our differences, both my brother and have come to see life where it is often missed and dismissed.  What a gift to get to see what he sees.  What wonderful hospitality.