- Last night brought Paradise its wildest
thunderstorm of the season. Thunder roared, lightning crashed, wind and
rain assaulted the earth.
-
- It was glorious.
-
- The aftermath, however, was a whole other
thing.
-
- This morning Burl Jr. the New Caretaker
and I left the Mountain at 8 o'clock on a quick run to Paradise Feed. The
electricity was out, but the sun never lies. (Neither do the battery-powered
atomic clocks conveniently located in both the main house and the Annex.)
-
- On our way we passed toppled trees, downed
fences and an aggravated power company crew. "Too bad we don't have
any traffic signals in Paradise," Burl Jr. said.
-
- "Why's that?"
-
- "Because it'd be so much fun to
see how people react when they go out."
-
- "I'm missing something," I
said. "But it's not the traffic signals."
-
- At the feed store, we were greeted by
the biggest damage yet. Everyone who worked there was standing by the big
40-foot hay barn, staring in disbelief.
-
- Burl Jr. and I stared too. Last night's
wind had picked up the whole structure, carried it about 20 feet and then
dropped it back onto the ground, shattering every support. It squatted
where it hit, caved-in like a barrel with crushed staves.
-
- Burl Jr. whistled. I shook my head. We
were in the presence of the true power of the storm.
-
- Phyllis, who pretty much runs the place,
came over to the truck. "You came for hay, didn't you?" she said.
-
- "I'm not going to get any, am I?"
I said.
-
- "We can't go in there," Phyllis
said. "Only thing keeping the roof up is the 20-foot pile of Bermuda
at the back."
-
- "We wanted alfalfa," said Burl
Jr.
-
- Phyllis looked relieved. "Oh, then
you would've been out of luck anyway."
-
- "When will you have any hay?"
I said. "Alfalfa or otherwise?"
-
- "When we get ourselves a new barn."
-
- "When'll that be?" Burl Jr.
said.
-
- "Oh, I imagine sometime after the
insurance company finishes roasting us over a hot fire."
-
- Phyllis went back to the barn. Burl Jr.
and I went back on the road. Our destination - the next town, about 10
miles away, and its County Farm and Feed.
-
- A long, tall drink of water wearing a
nametag that identified him as Albert the Manager greeted us with a grin.
"Why, we've got plenty of alfalfa!" he said. "No problem.
Only $8 a bale."
-
- "Eight dollars!" Burl Jr. looked
like he was about to choke. "That's $2 more than Paradise Feed."
-
- "That's not how I see it,"
said Albert the Manager. "How I see it is that Paradise Feed doesn't
have any alfalfa for sale. That makes what we're asking the going rate.
That's business."
-
- "That's robbery!" Burl Jr.
said. "You're buying it from the same farmers Paradise Feed bought
it from and paying the same price. Can't be more than $3 a bale."
-
- Albert looked thoughtful. "I guess
you could wait for Paradise's new barn," he said. "Or you could
lease yourself a big rig and drive 500 miles to Iowa City, Iowa, where
the farmers with the alfalfa are. You licensed for that?"
-
- "We'll take eight bales of alfalfa
right here," I said.
-
- Albert was already writing up the sale.
"Thank you kindly. Just bring this ticket to the big trailer outside."
-
- He gave me a familiar "Hey-We're-All-Hard-Working-Men-Trying-To-Make-Our-Way-Through-This-World"
kind of gaze. Turned back to Burl Jr. "Things change, son," he
said. "That's how life is."
-
- Burl Jr. didn't say anything. Not until
he and I were out in the parking lot. "What was that old boy doing,"
he demanded, "telling me 'things change?'"
-
- "Believe it or not, Burl,"
I said, "he was trying to keep everything cool. And maybe teach you
something about life."
-
- "I'm not a kid. I know how life
is! That's why I'm so mad."
-
- "That'll change, too."
-
- "I don't want it to. I want to be
me, fighting and kicking to the end!"
-
- Burl Jr. wore a look I've seen in my
mirror many times. I thought about all the changes I've gone through in
my life. Who I was. Who I am. Who I'll be.
-
- I started chuckling.
-
- Burl Jr. stared. "Why are you laughing?"
-
- "Oh, I guess because it's so much
fun to see how people react when the traffic signals go out."
-
- By the time Burl Jr.'s seat hit the seat
of the truck, he was laughing, too.
-
- ***
- Copyright C 2006 by Larry Brody. For
permission to reprint this column, please write to LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org.
-
- Author Larry Brody's weekly column, LIVE!
FROM PARADISE! appears on his website, www.larrybrody.com. He has written
thousands of hours of network television, and is the author of "Television
Writing from the Inside Out" and "Turning Points in Television."
Brody is Creative Director of The Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts, the
world's first in-residence media colony. More about his activities can
be seen on www.tvwriter.com and www.cloudcreek.org. He welcomes your comments
and feedback at LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org. Brody, his wife and their dogs,
cats, horses and chickens live in Marion County, Arkansas. The other residents
of the mythical town of Paradise reside in his imagination.
|
