The Town

FEELING G00D

 

I don't even have to open the bedroom curtains to know it's a lousy, gray, weeping day. The chilly rain has been filtering down on Rosedale for almost a week. And why not? Our small town was here first and eventually we became a middle sized town. With that came the German measles and house after house lost family. The minister of our only church, God's Way, semi non-denominational, used enough of our contribution funds to purchase a large lot as a cemetery behind our church. He assigned himself the center spot and allowed for a circle around him to hold his family and the elders of Rosedale.

 

The cemetery quickly became a place to relax, sit on a stone bench and meditate about god, eternity and how much rake-off our minister was getting as lot after lot was quickly covered with black loam and a sheet of green plastic grass. Within ten days or so enough real green fuzz would be visible, freeing the ground cover for the next 'guest.' Reverend Flannery stayed with us as long as he could, four years, and then ceremoniously filled the center plot. He certainly wouldn't be lonely.

 

Reverend Jackson came to us quickly and was immediately a hit. With a pleasant smile, clean shaven face, twinkling eyes and a voice that could be heard throughout our church without a mike. But we had one small problem. Jim Folley and Sally Donner, both elderly folks, have never given in to buy new fangled hearing aids. They take advantage of us all by being graced with the use of the front row seats whenever they deemed they would honor us with a Sunday visit.

 

Our circular cemetery made it to the CNC network show, 'Strange Places' and an article in Time magazine appeared on page six, a prime spot. All of the hullabaloo set off an influx of lookie-loos. Our super markets stayed open until nine at night. Our barber shops and hair dressers seldom had empty chairs. The piece de resistance was little Rosedale lost its thorns when we began to get donations for a new, bigger, better, hospital. I personally felt we were hurting ourselves because the more people we buried, the more famous we got. Why make our residents healthy? My thinking really sickened even me so I put in my $500 donation that allowed me to have only my name on a bronze plaque over any patient's door on the fourth floor. If I'd have put a thou, that I couldn't afford, I'd have my name on the first floor above the offices.

 

Sadly, Jim Folley who's hearing was bad, lost his sight. No sense his coming to services which released the seat next to Jane Folley. She met a nice old man, a widower, who moved here, didn't know a soul so Jane took him under her wing and soon they were a twosome. Her new man bought her hearing aids for her 68th birthday and now she stays home with him and no seats are left empty for 'special' people.

 

Winter hit Rosedale like a witch with a switch. My god, it was cold. We had more snow in two weeks than we have had in two years. People at the super market were coughing on their hands and selecting tomatoes, Georgia peaches. The flu spread itself. Schools closed but not soon enough. Three children passed in one week and had to be buried at  Ridgeway, a small cemetery near the up and coming town of Blacksburg.

 

Without knowing the children or their parents I drove over to the funeral just to support those suffering enough in their grief. On the way home from there, my chest started to ache and I had a bad coughing spell, had to pull over to the side of the road just to calm myself. I admit, I was scared I'd fill a hole soon but as long as I am writing and telling you about it, I'm still here. And I want you to believe me because you have to-I made up my mind years ago.

And so far I'm keeping my promise to myself.  I AIN'T GOIN'