It’s funny how things happen.

The school gymnasium over in Rindge had begun to clear out that Wednesday around 9:15 p.m. Folding chairs sitting empty on the battlefield. Small pockets of community members left to muddle things over. The quiet after a storm.

I had lingered a bit myself that night, wanting say goodbye to neighbors and friends, wish them luck with the next day’s snowfall. Thank them for coming out to the school’s deliberative session. And that’s when I made a new acquaintance.

Jane Fedorowicz had spoken that evening in front of the 338 Jaffrey and Rindge residents. In a vibrant violet sweater and a shag of beautiful curls, Jane stood out at the microphone. And her message was well-said, kind and direct. It resonated.

On her way out I had a chance to catch Jane, share my appreciation for her thoughts and contributions. “Where are you from?” I had asked. (We flatlanders can pick one another out of a crowd that size with ease.)

Well, wouldn’t you know, Jane and I were neighbors for many years back in my hometown. Maybe it was the high tensions and emotions of the night or the late hour on a weekday, but I was so elated to see someone from home that I think I may have reached out and given my new acquaintance a hug. Or maybe I just wanted to, but either way I really was glad to have a piece of my old home here in Rindge.

I told Jane this meeting had me thinking about home. About being a kid, and school, and families, and community. All of it. I was raised in a single-family home, the youngest of four. It was a loving family, but we struggled most of the time. My hard-working mother wasn’t always free to get me to practice or pick me up after school, pack me a lunch or bring me to the library for a school project. She worked, basically around the clock, and then did all the mom stuff. At times, it was really hard.

Jane kindly listened.

Yet, despite the struggles, I did well. My friends’ parents helped me get to soccer practices. The family run grocery store down the street gave me after-school shifts whenever I needed them. The town librarians all knew me and welcomed me all those summer days when I had nothing going on. Families on our street gave me and my siblings rides if we missed the bus and mom was working.

And school, well school knew about the hardships in my family, I’m sure. And they gave me every opportunity I deserved and needed as a kid. Scholarships for field trips (but I hadn’t given them a check yet… “Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of, Taylor”).

Encouragement to pursue my talents and passions (Thank you Miss Bachman for that “Annie” solo in fifth grade. “Maybe far away or maybe real near by…”). And just extra understanding and encouragement for a kid who had it a bit rougher than ones she tried to keep up with.

My new friend, who surely wasn’t expecting a middle-aged mom of three to take a deep dive into her childhood 10 minutes after meeting her, was right there with me.

Our communities need strong schools, Jane said. The schools need our support. For the kids.

Jane got it. Thanks Jane.