- "Where is this place, Pleasantville? Do you suppose
you could direct me there? It sounds familiar."
-
- As her machine gun query concluded, I noticed her finger
was pointing to the writing across the bug deflector of my truck (Pleasantville
News & Views). "Oh that," I said trying to search for an
answer which might beg a second question, "well, it's more a state
of mind than a physical place . . . although one could just as easily advance
the opposite opinion." Her initially serious look softened. "Oh,
okay. Well," she replied with quaint sincerity, "thank you."
She drove off.
-
- I sat on the pine bench atop the deck which runs across
the front of the general store. I opened my Coke took a swig then sat forward
- I began to think.
-
- "Ma-am, you'll have to turn left or right when you
get to the end of this road - either way, you'll still be in Pleasantville.
It's too bad you didn't have more time or I'd have told you a little bit
about this place. You see ma-am, Pleasantville is a place you come when
you get to wondering who/what/if you are. It's a place where you can make
sense out of the senseless, an oasis for a morally desiccated soul - its
rain can heal you like the waters of Lourdes." Taking another swig
I continued to muse.
-
- "Ma-am, it's a curious thing for those who don't
understand how they ended up here. If I'd have asked you, you'd have responded
like all the others. You'd have said you felt an overwhelming urge to take
a drive today, and on the way you heard songs you'd not listened to in
years - you even remembered the words. Despite your long drive you marveled
at how quick your journey was. Finally, once here, you were at a loss
to explain how the old farms, homes and people all seem so familiar. That's
okay, those of us who live here understand." I drank that last of
my Coke.
-
- "Yes ma-am, I wish you had a little more time. I
could have told you about the folks of Pleasantville - folks like Harvey.
He may seem like a frail wizened old farmer but I promise you he's anything
but. Most days his slight, solitary silhouette can be seen walking this
road. There is something magical about Harvey. Perhaps it's the way he
stops then studies the things around him. Despite walking this road a
thousand times his smiling grey eyes squint against the sun to drink in
every detail. He explores Pleasantville in a way that can cause you to
pause and stare with him. Though you may not see at first with your eyes,
just look with your heart, you'll discover what he's looking at. Harvey
is a man of few words but the little he does say can stop you in your tracks
and cause you to reflect, like the time he commented: 'Funny, where the
time goes.'" I entered my truck and began to drive.
-
- "Ma-am, before too long you'll find your way back
here - people always do. When next you answer an overwhelming urge to take
a drive, we'll be here. When you next feel your heart filling with a curious
spirit, we'll be here. The next time your mind tilts on nostalgic axis,
we'll be here. Finally ma-am, the next time you feel an overpowering urge
to return to a place which leaves you feeling you've come home, we'll be
here."
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