No, not a good year for the world, even when viewed from Fly Creek. If, however, you narrow the focus from the wide world to our hamlet itself, things look different. Here at least, 2006 has been a year of happy endings; there’s good news to cheer us. For instance:

On Thanksgiving morning at half-past three, the Fly Creek fire siren wailed for a road accident. Response was immediate. Fifteen members of our new fire company leaped out of warm beds, dressed, rushed to the firehouse, and drove out in fire trucks and rescue vehicles.

Though there were no fatalities, the accident scene was a poignant one. A young serviceman had been driving his family from his duty station in Virginia, heading to Mohawk and a Thanksgiving at grandmother’s house. They’d driven eight hours and were 20 miles from the trip’s end. Then, north of Fly Creek, the van veered off the road, leaped a ditch, and struck an embankment.

Our emergency crew found most of the family standing dazed in the frosty stubble by the wrecked van. They hustled them into the warmth of our rescue truck_two adults, three children, and a small dog. The Cooperstown ambulance arrived and hauled two of the kids to Bassett. The rest of the family, wrapped in blankets, were cared for till relatives arrived from Mohawk. Even the dog was gently held and comforted.

But where’s the happy ending? Well, only a year ago that fire siren might have gone unheeded.

Only a year ago we had no first-responder team. Only a year ago, until the Cooperstown ambulance arrived, that family might well have wandered cold and dazed, alone in the darkness, bereft of any sense that other humans cared.

The family’s story represents a miracle that’s occurred in Fly Creek over the last 12 months. The hamlet took in hand a dysfunctional fire department. It cleaned house, got the right people in office. And then came the real miracle. In face of claims that nobody volunteers for fire service any more, 50 Fly Creekers did just that. They created a brand-new fire company and fire police and auxiliary. It was all in place on that Thanksgiving morning, ready to serve.

And Thanksgiving wasn’t the only family holiday when the new company leaped from bed in the middle of the night. Late on Christmas, not long after midnight, they were up and out again, rushing to another car wreck.

From worse than no fire service to a dedicated, trained, compassionate one. That’s a happy ending. That’s a miracle.

And here’s more good news from the last year_though what occasioned it was, like that family’s van wreck, an awful thing. You remember it, six months back. The June floods. They ravaged some villages and hamlets around here, and they had their way in Fly Creek, too. Water poured down the hillsides, then down the valley, flooding homes, tearing out trees, ripping up roads.

Back in June, the new fire company was still getting organized. But that didn’t stop the community from swelling their ranks and using the reclaimed firehouse as an operations base.

Dozens of volunteers worked together to clear roads and culverts. Five separate teams worked around the clock, pumping cellars at the waters rose. Still other volunteers hauled food and drink to the firehouse to keep the crews fed.

Anne and I ended up with a special job in all the confusion. We gave refuge to animals flooded out of their barns and took part in Fly Creek’s first livestock drive in decades. You might remember the description from a column back then:

"Moments later a ragtag parade followed them down Cemetery Road. Here came Debbie Dickinson, leading another goat. Then Edwin Cook, steadying a handsome, skittish stallion, its eyes rolling with fright, with a second goat pacing alongside it. Next was Caryl Voght, holding onto still another goat that wanted to go every way but forward. And finally Kim MacLeod, tenderly carrying a brown-and-white kid in her arms, with a bearded old billy, its dad, trotting behind her and baa’ing in protest."

When waters receded and those animals could go home, Fly Creek witnessed a second livestock drive as neighbors turned out again to lead them back up the road. As the animals pranced and cantered along, we all marched with them, laughing at their antics. I think we all knew that our impromptu parade celebrated community and survival.

That’s good news for us, I think. Whatever the grim world situation, out here in the countryside we hang together, tending to our needs and to one another.

Maybe the world should be run from Fly Creek.

Jim Atwell lives in and views life from Fly Creek. Learn about his book at JimAtwell.com.