Foible #5: Rush Hour

With the population of our town aging, the nursing home had to undergo a major expansion. The problem was that there was no room on any side of it to expand. It was boxed in by the public pool on one side, the post office on the other, and the high school property abutted right behind it. There was space across the street though, so they built a beautiful addition on the other side of the street.

There were two problems though. The first was that to save money the new building did not have its own cafeteria so the residents there had to cross the street back to the old building for their meals. The second problem was that the street they had to cross was Main Street, which was also Highway 11 through our town with a posted speed of 35 miles per hour.

So, three times a day a long, slow brigade of canes, walkers, and shuffling feet crossed the street and brought Highway 11 to a standstill. It wasn’t so bad at breakfast time because most of the nursing home residents ate around 5:30 and there wasn’t much traffic then. But at noontime and at 4:30 in the afternoon when most of the senior citizens ate their dinner, the traffic could back up and reach as far as Miller’s horse farm about a mile outside of town.

The Miller daughters were quite the entrepreneurs and each day after school they set up a lemonade stand at the end of their lane alongside Highway 11 in anticipation of the daily 4:30 traffic jam. They quickly expanded to selling Girl Scout cookies, candy, gum, soda, bottled water, newspapers, and magazines. They made quite a handsome profit because who could resist two cute little salespersons by the side of the road when you are stuck in traffic.

What could be done? The nursing home could not afford a second cafeteria. The town didn’t want to use the school buses to bus the residents across the street because it was harder to get the seniors to climb the bus steps than it was just to have them walk across the street. The town didn’t want to put up a traffic light. Sheriff McFadden didn’t want to hire another deputy to direct traffic all day, but something had to be done. In the meantime, concerned citizens put up homemade signs along the road that said such things as “Drive Slowly, we love our Grandpa” and “Endangered Species Crossing” with a picture of an old person with a cane.

The solution finally came when the school crossing guards came forward with an idea. As a group, the school crossing guards were not that many years away from being in the nursing home themselves, so they had a vested interest in this problem. They expanded their volunteer duties. They worked the nursing home for breakfast and then hurried to school for the beginning of its day. They came back to the nursing home for lunch and were off duty to the end of school at 3:40, and then hurried back to the nursing home for the 4:30 rush hour.

Things worked very well as the crossing guards got the seniors to cross in small groups and gave traffic a chance to clear. Everybody was basically happy. The seniors got their three meals a day as well as three “outings” of exercise. Neither the town nor the nursing home owner had to spend any money. The crossing guards felt like heroes and were greatly appreciated for their generosity. The only ones that were a little unhappy at first were the Miller daughters. Traffic was moving much better so they had to move their lemonade stand and magazine rack in to the very the edge of town to catch the spot where traffic came to a stop, and even then sales went down because the traffic did not stop for very long. But the Miller daughters, bless their hearts, didn’t stay unhappy for very long as they decided to give all their proceeds to the crossing guards for their generous service to the town.

So, everything has worked out, at least for the warm months. We will have to see what happens in the winter.

Foible #4: One ATM in Town

While out for a walk one morning, I remembered that I needed to buy a birthday card for Aunt Hazel. I never quite knew what to write in Aunt Hazel’s card because she did all the talking whenever we saw each other. Come to think of it, I don’t know if I have ever spoken a full sentence to Aunt Hazel before she just took over. Anyway, I had to get her a card and with no cash in my wallet, I headed for the only ATM in town.

Since it was the only one, they made it a drive-thru, but I didn’t realize that at the time. I arrived to find a line of three cars so I stood behind the last car to mark my place in line. I felt kind of naked standing there because the other people in line had a ton of steel surrounding them to protect them and clothe them, while I stood there out in the open.

The first car finished and we all moved up. I took about six steps. The exhaust of the car in front of me made me cough a bit. By then, a car pulled up behind me and I turned around and blushed, feeling naked again, but the woman just smiled kindly at me.

Just then, the car in front of me turned on its windshield washers and wipers. It wasn’t raining. She just needed a cleaning. Some of those windshield washers are powerful and two sprays went up over the windshield then over the car roof and doused me. Of course, the driver did not notice, but the driver behind me did and she called out of her car window and offered me a tissue. I gladly took it and used it to clean my glasses. The windshield washer fluid did wonders and my glasses have never been so clean. I’ll have to remember that.

I thanked the woman for the tissue. The line was moving ahead again so the windshield washer driver was now at the ATM and I walked up behind her. By this time, other drivers on Main Street saw me standing there. They all looked at me funny and smiled. No longer embarrassed, I now nodded to some onlookers and waved to others.

Finally, it was my turn. The security camera of the ATM was set up to get a good look at a driver seated in a car. So, I am sure they got a good picture of my belly as I stood there punching buttons. I’ve lost a few pounds so probably no one will recognize me on the security tape.

With cash in hand, I turned and waved to the line of six cars now behind me. Some politely honked back as I stepped over onto the sidewalk and headed toward the card shop. Certainly, I now had something to write in Aunt Hazel’s card. I would tell her about the ATM line and getting the money to buy her card.

Foible #3: Hot Pink Construction Shirts

Always concerned with safety, our highway department was constantly looking for new ways to keep its workers safe while they were repairing potholes, laying pavement, or landscaping near roadways. Someone in the highway department had read a study that hot pink was the most visible color and that it was scientifically proven that drivers would notice workers in hot pink shirts much more quickly than with any other color.

Always wanting what was safest, one summer they bought hot pink shirts in XL, XXL, XXXL for all their highway workers. The workers got noticed alright and they were no injuries due to inattentive drivers. But, the workers were whistled at, waved at, stared at, honked at, laughed at, and even propositioned by passing drivers. All of the male workers quit and the highway department was worried that it was not going to be able to complete all the beatification projects and fill all the potholes before summer was over. The female workers, however, did not quit, but there were not enough of them to do all the work.

Our highway department was in a quandary. However, things worked out as they always do in our town. More women were hired and there was a batch of new men who applied for the job who did not seem to mind wearing the hot pink shirts. In fact, these men seemed to enjoy wearing the shirts. They were all hired right away. Suffice it to say, that summer the landscaping along the roadways and the flowers beds that lined Main Street never looked better. Everyone in town commented on how nice everything looked. But even after things worked out so well, the highway department never again used hot pink construction shirts after that summer. And the flower beds suffered because of it.

Foible #2: A Visit From Our Pastor

(This is a true story.)

During church services, pastors are used to having the long parts. The people are used to the short responses: “Amen” or “Thanks be to God.”

When pastors visit your home, the same dynamic applies. At least, that is the way it is with our pastor. Pastor Kerchner has the long parts when he visits us and we just reply “Yes, Pastor” or “That is so true, Pastor.”

One summer night, Pastor Kerchner was holding court around our dining room table with our family as his small congregation when he decided it was time to leave. Only thing was, Pastor Kerchner’s process of leaving takes an hour and twenty minutes.

Pastor Kerchner rose from his dining room chair and being good church-goers we all stood up also. He stood there for twenty minutes delivering a monologue. Then he moved to the front door and being good church-goers we followed in procession. He stood by the door talking for twenty minutes. Then, he moved out onto the porch and, you guessed it, stood and delivered another twenty minute address. He then moved to his car while we stayed on the porch. Twenty minutes in that configuration. He climbed into his car and rolled down the window. Twenty minutes. He started his car but this did not stop him as he talked over the idling engine for another twenty minutes. Finally, he slowly pulled out of our yard talking the whole way.

My Dad finally got in more than a short reply.

“Good night, Pastor Kerchner,” Dad called out. “It was nice listening to you.”

Truer words were never spoken in a more polite manner. My Mom and all of us kids turned and covered our mouths to squelch the laughter as we hurried into the house. My Dad stood on the porch waving before he realized what he had said and turned a bright shade of red.

Foible #1: Do-It-Yourself Fireworks

Old Man Jenkins bequeathed a strange thing to our town. He didn’t like people but he did like certain things, so in his will he left enough money to the town to buy fireworks each year. But there was one catch. If the town didn’t use the fireworks by midnight on July 4th, then the town would lose Jenkins’ money and without it would not be able to afford to buy fireworks on its own.

Our town always had their fireworks on July 4th itself. This year the weather was gorgeous on the 1st, the 2nd, and the 3rd, but the mayor wanted to stay with tradition and shoot them off on the 4th. On the evening of the 4th, all the people gathered in the fairgrounds including our local radio station. Our town was the only one I know that broadcast their fireworks over the radio. Mostly the broadcast consisted of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ with an occasional ‘that’s a big one,’ but the senior citizens seemed to like it so they continued the tradition. This year the radio meteorologist had some bad news and confirmed that a large thunderstorm would reach us just about dusk.

Sure enough, the big drops started just as darkness was falling and the fairgrounds cleared out of the gate; but not before the mayor got the idea to give every departing family one of the fireworks. The fire chief was not pleased with this and neither was the police chief, but the lawyer on the town council said it was the only way. If the fireworks were given out before midnight then this would satisfy Old Man Jenkins’ will of ‘using’ the fireworks and the town could continue using Jenkins’ money to buy fireworks the next year. So, each family carried a good size rocket to their car and no one set them off that night because of the weather.

First thing the next morning the radio started broadcasting a plan that had come to the mayor in a dream. At 9:30 that night all the families whose last names began with the letter ‘A’ would fire off their fireworks. Then, at 9:31 all the families whose last names began with ‘B’ would fire off their fireworks, and so on. So, there would be a 26 minute fireworks show with rockets firing off all around the county.

Children came out in their yards and spun around to catch sight of the random barrage of fireworks that happened in minute intervals. From our yard one explosion would be near and to the west and a second later the next one would be far and to the east. Kids were spinning around so quickly to catch sight of them all that there were many reports of kids throwing up from dizziness. These were the only reports of injuries that night. People loved the random zaniness so much that this ‘Do-It-Yourself’ Fireworks became the new tradition in our town.

The Inspiration of Garrison Keillor

When I was in my 20's I heard Garrison Keillor on the radio and was inspired to become a storyteller. My stories were all for children and a few books came out of it. Now in my 40's, I recently saw Garrison Keillor at Tanglewood in western Massachusetts and he inspired me once again to create stories but this time for adults. I must be growing up.

This blog will contain little stories of small town foibles with a fable occasionally thrown in.