Spencerville

You arrived in life, he reflected, at a time not of your own choosing, then you stayed for a time, also not of your own choosing, and finally, you left, and the only choice you had then was to leave early, but not one moment later than the time you were allotted. Between your arrival and your departure, however, you had some real choices, but choices came in four varieties — good and bad, hard and easy. The good ones were usually the hard ones.

"Choice. Pack up or have dinner?" He chose dinner and opened the refrigerator. "What should I have for dinner?" Not much choice. "Coors or Budweiser?" He chose a Bud.

The phone rang, and he chose not to answer it, but it kept ringing, so he changed his mind and picked it up. "Landry."

"Hello, Landry. This is Porter. Can you tell which one?"

Keith smiled and said, "Gail."

"No, Jeffrey. My shorts are tight."

"What's up?"

"Reminding you of the meeting at St. James tonight. Eight P.M."

"Can't make it, buddy."

"Sure you can."

"Sure I can, but I don't want to."

"Sure you do."

"No, I don't."

"Do you want the revolution to start without you?"

"That would be fine. Send me the minutes. I'm about to have dinner."

"Don't fuck with me, Keith. I have fifty calls to make."

"Look, Jeffrey, I'm... I've decided..."

"Hold on..." He covered the phone, but Keith could hear his muffled voice, then Jeffrey came back on and said, "Gail says she'll do whatever you want if you come, and anyway, you owe her for the great weed."

"Look... oh, all right..."

"Good. Do you want to say a few words?"

"Yes. Good-bye."

"At the meeting. Do you want to talk about your impressions of Spencerville after a twenty-year absence? Your hopes for the future?"

"Perhaps some other time. See you later." He hung up and said, "I'm still working on the past."

* * *

That night, Thursday evening, Keith drove out to St. James Church. The grass parking areas were filled with about fifty cars and pickup trucks, far more than he'd ever seen at St. James, except for Christmas and Easter.

He parked near the cemetery and walked toward the church. At the door, a few young men and women were handing out pamphlets. In the narthex, a group of people were welcoming the arrivals. Keith saw Gail and Jeffrey and tried to slip past them, but they spotted him and hurried over. Gail said, "So, what do I owe you?"

"A kiss will do."

She kissed him and said, "You're easy to please. I was willing to give more."

Jeffrey said, "Please, Gail, we're in church. I'm surprised the ceiling hasn't fallen in on us already."

"Surely," Keith remarked, "you don't believe in divine retribution."

"You just never know," Jeffrey answered.

Gail said, "There are over a hundred people here already. The pews are full, and so is the choir loft. I told you, people are fed up. They want a change."

Keith informed her, "No, Gail, they're here became things have changed. They want to turn back the clock, and that can't be done. You should make them understand that."

She nodded. "You're right. The three of us have rural roots, but we've forgotten how people here think. We have to change that thinking and change old attitudes."

Keith rolled his eyes. No wonder revolutionaries scared the hell out of everybody. He said, "No, they don't want their thinking or attitudes changed. They want their values and beliefs endorsed, and they want government and society to reflect their values and beliefs, not yours."

"Then they want to turn back the clock, and that can't be done."

"No, not literally, but you should paint a picture of the future that looks like the past, with brighter colors. Sort of like a Currier & Ives lithograph that's been cleaned up."

Gail smiled. "You're as manipulative as we are. Did you do this for a living?"

"Sort of... yeah, I worked in propaganda once... but I didn't like it."

"It sounds fascinating. You could use that stuff in your personal life and really make out."

"I wish." Keith changed the subject. "By the way, who's the pastor here who was crazy enough to let you use this place for seditious activities?"

Jeffrey replied, "Pastor Wilkes."

"Really? I thought he'd be retired or dead by now."

"Well," said Jeffrey, "he could be both. He's really old. But he was amenable to this. In fact, I had the impression he didn't particularly care for Chief Baxter."

"Is that so? I wouldn't think he'd know Cliff Baxter personally. The Baxters always went to St. John's in town where the important people go. This is just a farmers' church."

"Well, apparently he knows Baxter by reputation, and apparently he talks to the other clergy in town. I wish we had that kind of intelligence network. Anyway, what you're going to hear tonight is that Chief Baxter is a sinner and an adulterer."

"Doesn't make him a bad guy."

Gail laughed. "You're impossible. Go stand in the corner."