Hoxeyville, Part IV

Thought For The Day

When I saw her I knew I had to meet her. She was surrounded by friends and admirers. There was nothing to do but make our entourage more interesting than what she was doing. With the casual, in charge air of  a war correspondent I walked up to her and said:

"I'd like to get some pictures and interview a few people. Who should I speak to for permission?" 

The look I got from her told me she was right where I wanted her to be. She almost stuttered when she asked who I was and  why I wanted to take pictures. I decided at that moment to see if it would work. 

"Herb Ratliff, free lance journalist. We're doing a piece for Life Magazine." 

Then I just waited. There was a pause while she moistened her lips and swallowed. She pointed out the Mayor, who was watching our exchange. When we made eye contact he moved toward me smiling. Bingo! We're in.

When the Mayor came over we introduced ourselves around and explained our reason for being there. We were doing a series of articles about small towns in rural areas. Michigan was our current focus. 

I asked if he was willing to participate. He couldn't say yes fast enough. He invited us to stay for the festivities. He even offered to show us his collection of different types of wood. He also had a collection of animal fetuses in formaldehyde. (I could have lived without that.) He said there was going to be a program that evening and a talent show. 

"Would you fellows like to participate in the talent show?" He asked. 

Fred, Doug and I looked at each other and grinned. This was working out much better than we expected. It was getting on toward dinner time. The Mayor invited us to stay, offered his home for showers and promised a great evening of fun. 

While Doug showered Fred and I worked out a little program to perform for the talent show. Fred was able to magically simulate the sounds of a variety of musical instruments. That would be a part of the program. Doug, Fred and I would sing a couple of songs for the rest.

Now, where did that lovely wood nymph go?


Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! - Nymph in thy orisons,
be all my sins remembered.
--Hamlet, scene i

.................to be continued

©Herb Ratliff, July 19, 2012, All Rights Reserved