NOTE: If you haven’t been following this from the beginning, and if you want to know the full sequence of events, start with the introduction. Click on Archives on the right.
Daisy Briscoe introduces me to the new vice chair of the Fauxmont Guild over the sound of cicadas. It is mid afternoon and the heat is tolerable in today’s low humidity and the insects seem subdued compared to the intense roar they added to last weeks extreme heat. I congratulate Boyd sitting on Daisy’s screened and shaded front porch. Leggy rhododendrons stretch for light from an evergreen wall of azaleas growing between her house and the narrow street. “Thanks Fred. Now we can make some changes around here.” Goldfinches visit to feed on Nyjer seed from Daisy’s carbide tube feeder. She is enthusiastic. “This could be big for you. I am so glad you won, Boyd.”
“I didn’t win Daisy. No one else ran, so how could I lose?”
“Suppose no one voted for you?”
“I don’t think I got more than about four votes Fred.” The cicadas reach a crescendo, then all but one nearby go quiet.
“When was the election?”
“Back in May Fred. Where have you been?’
“Out of touch obviously.”
Daisy offers me some iced tea and goes on. ”The election was the first week in May. I think you were out of town or something.” Three goldfinches fly off leaving the hanging tube swinging outside the screen. A lawn mower starts up very loud next door, and soon stops with a metallic knock. The porch falls silent as it takes a moment to hear the wasp working against the screen above my head, the more distant cicadas and water running in the pipes somewhere indoors.
“It’s funny I haven’t heard about it though.”
“Bel is still chair, and I think its great, but Boyd keeps complaining …”
“Yeah, she’s taking her time about announcing anything and calling a meeting of the new Guild.”
“It is vacation time Boyd. People are away.”
“That’s a lame excuse Daisy. In fact they are trying to screw me out of the job.”
She is standing next to his chair and gives him a kiss. Boyd holds her hand until the full length of her long arm is stretched out as she pulls away to get ice tea from the kitchen. The lawn mower starts again and gets fainter as it is pushed around the other side of the house.
“How, Boyd?”
“Seeing as how I only got four votes, they are talking about another vote for vice chair.”
“Can they do that?”
“No, Hank Dumpty has already told them the by-laws don’t allow it. They’ve got to find some way to live with me!” Boyd laughs. “We are going to shake things up, big time. Bel, Diddlie Drates, my Mom, Albrecht’s parents, all those other liberals won’t know what hit them. Get every one in the neighborhood involved and voting for freedom.”
“We, Boyd? Doesn’t sound like you have much support.”
“Fred, with Albrecht, the master mind behind me, we will get all the support we need.”
“Be a good thing to increase voter turn out alright.”
“That’s just the beginning Fred. We’ve also got to get Bel out of there, and find a real chairman.”
Birds return to feed, gold flashing so bright it seems apart from the bird, like tossed coins falling through the dappled light. The engine’s volume grows again in the mower’s turn towards us. The odor of dust and hydrocarbons mixes with the sweet, sour lemonade I am sipping. A cloud rises above the intervening ferns, like visual noise, obscuring the figure of the figure behind the mower. There’s a rattle of stones and other hard stuff against the machine. One of Daisy’s pet wombats comes out the door on to the porch. “What is that Daisy?”
“That’s Dante. The racket must have woken him.” Daisy’s three wombats were sleeping in their large wooden salad bowls, each with a name engraved on an attached silver plate; Dante, Rossetti, and Gabriel. The other two sleep on while Dante walks on slowly and settles on the floor with his nose against the screen.
“Can they read Daisy?”
“What?” I wait for the mower to pass so Daisy can hear me, but it stops again with another sudden crack of the blade.
“Daisy, I said, can they read?”
“No, they’re wombats Fred. What do you mean?”
“I mean I noticed they have their names on their sleeping bowls.”
“Oh right, Fred! I put those up after they had chosen the bowls themselves.”
“How do they like salad?”
“They don’t Fred, but I found Dante sleeping in my salad bowl one morning after I had left it out on the kitchen counter. I never did put it away, and then the others also wanted to sleep in it.” She stops, waiting for the sound of a truck revving to subside. It must have gone into reverse. We hear shouts in Spanish between the warning beeps. Daisy is frowning.
“I hope they have finished with that mower!”
Boyd shouts as loud as he can. “They’ll never be finished here until we seal the border.”
I remind Boyd that not all Spanish speakers are illegals.
“Okay Boyd, enough about the Hispanics! Fred, I was trying to tell you that I went to Ikea, and bought two more bowls so Rossetti and Gabriel could sleep comfortably without a fight over one bowl.”
“What do you use for salad now Daisy?”
“Fred she’s got a ton of other bowls in there.”
Daisy had gone inside and didn’t hear my question. She reappears with more iced tea. “Boyd, I like Bel. She’s been doing a good job too.”
“Daisy, who said she’s doing such a good job? Rossetti? You’ve been fooled by all the socialist bullshit they talk around here. You know Fred, this is one good woman, and she’s been taken for a ride for years by these people.”
“Oh come on Boyd honey.”
“You have. The whole big government thing takes you in. The big daddy who’s going to protect us all, until he’s taken all our money in taxes, and all our freedoms with it.”
“I don’t see what’s wrong with the government helping unfortunate people.”
“What’s wrong is that it is the community’s job to look after its own. Not some over-paid clown in Washington spending my tax money.”
“Do you think Fauxmont could take on such a job? I mean where would the funding come from?”
“Fred, you don’t need funds when you got people who are organized to take care of themselves.”
“So you think it could be done by volunteers?”
“Yeah, maybe, partly, but mainly the “unfortunates” as my sweety likes to call them, need to do something for themselves.”
“Boyd, where do you get all these ideas?”
“All you’ve got to do is think about it honey. Government is basically evil. It is …”
Daisy was about to sit down after handing me a drink, but she strode toward Boyd’s wicker armchair and grabbed both his hands, interrupting him by repeating “Evil! Evil! Evil Evil Evil kneavel!” so close to his face they rub noses. She draws back laughing.” Boyd pulls her on to his lap where she lands with her legs up over the arm an of chair, one of her arms around his neck and the other tangled in his.
“Seriously Fred. Think about it. We all know power corrupts and absolute power …” Daisy interrupts again as she is trying to get up from Boyd’s lap. “ … corrupts absolutely”.
Her voice distorts as she rolls off his lap and unfolds on the floor bumping her head. They are both laughing and I laugh with them. Boyd is still determined to make his point. “The more taxes they raise, the more power they have, the less we have. The bigger the bureaucracy gets, the more inefficient government gets, and the more wasteful, corrupt and self serving.”
Daisy looks up at Boyd from the floor. She lies on her back playfully waving her arms and legs in the air. She addresses the ceiling, “Professor Boyd, I am listening honey, but come on.”
“No I am not rolling on the carpet with you. I got to educate Fred here.” Dante has walked over to sniff Daisy’s ear.
“Our government isn’t evil Boyd.” She stifles some more giggles as Boyd prods her with his bare toes.
“Daisy you’re acting like a cicada down there.” Dante jumps at his foot but he moves it away in time.
“Well you are going on and on like a cicada in woven wicker tree.”
Hoping to change the subject, I ask, “the seventeen year cicadas were here in 04, so who is making all the racket now?”
“Seventeen years, isn’t that about how long Bel has been in the chair?”
Daisy gets up from the floor and sits opposite Boyd, pulling her chair up so close they press their knees together. Three goldfinches fly off the feeding tube which swings empty. The mower starts up again but sounds muffled. It is on the other side of the house.
