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(Continued)
Betsy Taylor's nicest
figurine vanished from her mantle, and in its place, a note that
read; "Your statuette has been taken hostage. Unless you come
to Town Hall on Sunday April 4th at noon, you will never see it
again."
Bobby Owens reported a
similar note where his old, favorite lawn mower used to be.
Updates came trickling in from all over town. Cathy's cake mixer
was missing. Rick's Black and Decker power drill. Marianne's most
comfortable shoes. It's as if the interloper could read minds -
pilfering a person's most cherished possession as insurance that
they'd come to some kind of meeting. How he or she got in and out
of houses like Santa Claus puzzled each victim, but wasn't too
difficult to figure. No one in Madison locked his or her front
door. Any bumbling burglar could just breeze on in and help
himself. But it was what was taken that got everyone scratching
heads. Coins and dollar bills remained on tables, the rare pearl
or gold necklace stayed put.
Naturally, Stew was first on
the list of suspects.
On Sunday April 4th at noon,
over 150 people walked into the dank, dark paneled main room of
Town Hall and what they saw puzzled them even more. Up on the
podium, under several spotlights, hundreds of items large and
small taken from Madison homes were displayed like a museum
exhibit. Stupendous Stew stood amidst the clothes and lawn
furniture and kitchen appliances (each carefully tagged with the
name of its owner), holding a microphone.
"Settle down
everyone," he said. "I had to do something to get your
attention, and I guess it worked." Stew laughed like a horse
exhaling.
There were a few uneasy
titters from the audience. "Don't worry - you'll all get your
stuff back after I have my say.
"Let me just tell you
right off that I've gotten myself into a predicament quite by
accident. Several weeks ago, I was playing poker with a gent who
looked as if he could buy and sell me. His fingers were weighed
down with gold and gemstones. His hat was one of those custom
jobbers that cost a king's ransom to make. His boots - pure
alligator - tinted green like money. This man had everything going
for him except, folks, a winning hand.
"That's where this
story gets interesting. And that's what he said, too. 'Let's make
this interesting,' he said. This ole boy proceeded to tell me that
he's got a little town in Oklahoma – owns it! - and
wouldn't you know he put it out to bet. Now, this gentleman could
have just reached in his pocket to pull out a wad of bills, but no
- he throws this idea out on the table and I looked at my Royal
Flush and I go ahead and say, 'fine.'
"When I walked into
that room, ladies and gentlemen, I was a man without a home - an
itinerant for better want of a word. And when I walked out, I was
a landowner. Not only a landowner - a town owner.
"Now, you may not know
it to look at me, but I am no ordinary rambler. I've made more
money in my lifetime than Midas himself, and given away just as
much. I am what you would call an entrepreneur without need, a
businessman when the mood strikes and a wanderer when the road
calls.
"I won your town fair
and square. But do I want to keep it? No. It is a sorry place, I
have to say. Madison, as you well know, is losing money like
moonshine from a leaky jug. But I own it, and as my dear departed
Mother used to say, 'when life gives you lemons, plant those seeds
and grow lemon trees.' So that's what I'm gonna do; plant seeds
and leave you with the trees.
"As you can see from
this selection of used, worn and loved items, Madison is the kind
of no-frills, Main Street, simple-life kind of town that people
these days yearn for. The world has gotten out of hand of late,
with Internet porn and scams, the need to do more, make more, see
more. Most folks, though, want to step back to a simpler time. A
time that seems to stand still here in Madison."
Stew stopped to take a
breath and let his message sink in. Through trick of light or
divine intervention, a lone shaft of light cast the residents'
shabby belongings in gilded splendor. Amy could see where this was
going.
"Are you proposing we
turn Madison into some kind of museum?" she asked. The crowd
chortled.
"That's exactly what
I'm proposing," Stew exclaimed, his smile sloping clear up to
his left eye. "Eureka!"
"Who'll want to come
and see some old stuff?" Bailey smirked.
"Think about it,"
Stew answered. "Millions of people pay good money to look at
old stuff. In the Smithsonian, in art museums, in living history
museums like Williamsburg. Madison could be the ultimate 'Living
in the Present' Museum - an interactive chance at the Simple Life
that everyone yearns for. You all are a reminder of how things
could be if folks put the brakes on doing more, buying more,
having more. Believe me - if marketed right, you people have a
goldmine here. Sort of like a Ghost town without the ghosts.
"I've already set the
wheels in motion. I've contacted the State Tourism Board. We'll be
getting ads out, press releases - that sort of thing. Helen, your
cooking beats any fancy New York restaurant - I know this for a
fact. Over-stimulated, stressed-out individuals will clamor to
stay in that little place of yours. Bobby - your neighbors can't
say enough about your lawn and garden. You have so much to share
with those green-thumb types looking for plain and simple advice.
Cathy - your cakes have won awards, for goodness sakes. Invite the
public into your kitchen. Let them watch you, help you, then share
a slice with them over a cup of coffee. The public will lap this
up!"
Stew spent the next few
hours laying out plans for Madison, offering advice, building
enthusiasm. Town residents began to see the potential - like
prospectors discovering gold right beneath their feet. Madison,
thanks to Stew, now had a future, and for the first time in their
lives, Madisonians had something to be proud of. A reason to stay.
The day before he left, Stew
made a visit to John Bailey's one-room office. "I'd like you
to draw up some papers," Stew said. "How many families
live in Madison?"
"If you include crazy
Birdie McMillan, then 104," Bailey offered.
"I want to transfer
ownership of the town to be divided equally among them," Stew
announced. "I have no intention to own a car, much less a
town. Not my style."
Which is how Stupendous
Stew's winning hand became the country's first 'Living in the
Present' Museum, owned and operated entirely by the 484 flush and
sought-after reality TV stars of Madison, Oklahoma, Inc.
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MALERIE
YOLEN-COHEN writes feature articles for regional and national magazines. Her work has appeared in
Sierra, Ladies Home Journal, Offshore, Westchester Magazine and on webzines that include
Ducts, Conversely, Road and Travel, Defenestration, WriterOnLine and
New-Works.
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